4. Kat
Kat
I could feel the calculation in her stare.
She didn’t only want to know who I was, but why I might matter.
I returned her look, keeping my face neutral.
Dawn and Dusk cohabited this city and the palace, but I didn’t understand the intricacies of their arrangement.
And hadn’t all the stories warned against offending the fae?
(Fairly sure almost poisoning one was considered offensive, though.)
“Amandine. A delight to see you as always.” With the flat line of his lips, Bastian looked anything but delighted. “Katherine is a guest of Dusk and will be staying in the palace until she’s ready to return home.”
“A long way for a human to come.” There was the briefest hesitation before the word “human” like she found it distasteful to say.
Behind her, the other Dawn guards stood at attention, but I caught their gazes snapping this way. To our left, I could feel the scrutiny of the Dusk guards and when I glanced over, I found one had stepped forward, both hands on her spear.
Clearly, it wasn’t standard procedure to stop the Night Queen’s Shadow from entering the palace.
Tension twisted through the air. Not only did I not fully understand the undercurrents here, but I had no power to do anything to defuse the situation or get Amandine to back down and let us inside.
Either she didn’t notice the Dusk guard’s approach or didn’t care as she went on, “Has His Majesty authorised her entry to Elfhame?”
Bastian’s mouth curved in what might’ve been a pleasant smile, but the way it made his eyes glitter reminded me of the murderous look he’d given me when I’d stolen his orrery. “ Her Majesty has. We arrived by moonlight.”
Amandine gave a soft grunt. “Of course you did.”
It sounded as though that meant all was well and I should be allowed to pass, but she remained there, spear blocking our path. The hair on my forearms prickled against the silk of my sleeves.
The Dusk guard took a step closer and opened her mouth.
But with the slightest twitch of his fingers, Bastian silenced her before he met Amandine’s sharp gaze. “Was there something else?”
The guard’s jaw shifted from side to side before she exhaled and took a step back. “Not at this time. I trust you’ll warn your human to follow our rules, Marwood.”
“Of course.” He smiled blandly as we continued on our way. “And when she awakens, I’ll ensure Her Majesty understands just how helpful you were.”
I caught Amandine flinching as we passed. I didn’t know whether to revel in the small victory or reassess Bastian—even with his “diminished” power, he had more than I’d ever known in my life.
The bridge’s gentle arch made it look safe.
It was perhaps wide enough for four people or two sabrecats to walk abreast, but it had no guard rails.
A moment’s carelessness and splash —I peered over the edge—make that crash .
Unless you fell from the very centre, you’d be lucky to avoid the dark, jagged rocks on the way down.
Swallowing, I shifted to the middle of the walkway. On the other side, a shimmering waterfall emerged from below the palace, feeding the river at the bottom of the gorge, and I fixed my attention on that.
When the tingle on my skin grew, I assumed it was my fear of falling over the edge, but as we approached the midpoint, the feeling peaked. It buzzed, like a whole swarm of bees, making me sway with the intensity, my brain foggy.
“Kat?” Bastian closed the distance between us like he might grab my arm.
Stopping, I warded him off and took a deep breath. With each second I acclimatised to the heavy feeling, less overwhelmed by it. “I’m fine, it’s just…” I managed to pull my back straight and continue on the path. “Is that magic I can feel?”
He gave me another long look, sticking close. “The river is enchanted to protect the palace. It feels… thick and humming.”
“Like bees.”
He gave a low grunt. “Something like that, but… angrier. Wasps.”
Frowning, I glanced back along the bridge as we stepped off its stone surface. The hum was intense but not angry.
But as we entered the palace grounds, surrounded by formal gardens, with a huge entrance ahead and a stable block to the right, I found myself walking alongside a stone-faced version of Bastian.
One who didn’t invite argument. My mind was still swimming from the magic, so I kept my head down, ignoring the questioning looks that followed us as he led me to a side entrance.
So many questioning looks. They crawled over my skin, and I hugged myself tighter. This much attention wasn’t safe. Especially not in a place where I didn’t understand the rules.
My body was still recovering, a wave of vertigo sweeping through me at one point. I waved off Bastian’s help and pushed myself on.
At last, we reached a set of double doors that Bastian unlocked with magic. When we entered, the bergamot and cedar scent told me they were his rooms before I even lifted my head and took in the formal antechamber.
As the doors closed, the stone in his expression softened the barest touch, becoming sandstone rather than granite. He took off his jacket and hung it, then half turned to me. “Are you…?” He finished the question by sweeping his gaze over me.
I lifted my chin. I didn’t need looking after like a child, and I didn’t need him hovering this close like he was going to take my arm. “I’m not about to keel over.”
Nodding to himself, he stalked ahead into a grand sitting room. It made the space he’d been given in Riverton Palace seem not just small but gaudy in comparison.
Decorated in grey, black, and a dark teal like the deep sea on a summer’s day, the large space somehow managed to feel enclosed—safe, even. Add a few gilded accents, like the shooting star design of the fireplace and the celestial map covering the ceiling, and it was both tasteful and luxurious.
Voice clipped, he explained where the main bathroom was and his bedroom. A locked door led to his workroom, but he said his offices were elsewhere in the palace, so I wasn’t sure exactly what kind of work it was for.
Maybe for torturing humans who spied on him.
He herded me to the door opposite his bedroom. “And this is yours.”
I raised my eyebrows at the fact I was staying in his suite, but realised before I asked—if he was my antidote, I needed to stay close.
When he leant past me and opened the door, it unleashed a waft of fresh paint smell.
The walls were a pale, silvery grey, a little lighter than his eyes, covered with two huge paintings: one of the night sky with a crescent moon and one showing the sunset with a single bright star glinting.
The large bed was draped with violet silk the same colour as one of my favourite gowns.
A vase of white roses sat on a round table before the fireplace.
“And your bathroom is through there.”
“My own—?”
When I turned, the intensity of his attention stole my words. For a second, it was as though he hadn’t spent most of the time looking everywhere but at me. It was as though I was the only thing he’d ever seen.
Then it was over as he glanced around the room. “Does it meet with your approval?”
He had to know it did. From the thick carpet underfoot to the rich wood of the furniture and the clustered fae lights overhead—this was one of the most exquisite spaces I’d ever set foot in. And somehow it was mine, for a while at least. “It’s beautiful.”
With a curt nod, he backed away to the door. “Well. I’m sure you must be hungry. I’ll have someone bring you lunch—a late lunch.” As he paused in the doorway, the faintest smile flickered over his lips. “They make some excellent cake in the kitchens.”
I think I smiled back. Because it felt like a private joke. Like old times. Like we could pick and choose what had and hadn’t happened in the past, and for this short while we were choosing only the best moments and none of the bad.
The seconds drew on, marked by the ticking clock on the mantelpiece.
Then the spell broke.
He cleared his throat and turned, already halfway out the door as he said, “I need to get back to work. I have meetings and—”
“How long will you be gone?”
He frowned over his shoulder at me, shaking his head like he wasn’t sure how to answer. “I don’t know. However long it takes.” The creases between his eyebrows deepened, edging towards annoyed rather than confused. “I don’t normally have to answer to—”
“I don’t want you to answer to me, Bastian. But”—I gave the clock a pointed look—“I’m on a deadline. If you’re not going to be back until after sunset…” I spread my hands, attention catching on the shocking darkness of my fingertips.
“Ah.” He nodded slowly. “Deadline. Dead being the operative. Of course.” He stalked closer, not cracking so much as a smirk at his own joke. The man who’d taken every opportunity to tease me or make me laugh would’ve grinned, even if it was sardonically.
That was when I realised.
This stone face wasn’t a mask—this was the real Bastian.
Aloof. All business. There was no one else around and he wore his shirt sleeves rolled up, yet he was still distant. The cool formality hadn’t been an act in front of the people of his city and the guards.
The person I’d met in Albion had been the act. He’d used it to gain my trust in the hopes I’d open up to him about being a spy.
The knowledge gripped my heart.
In the library, the first time we’d kissed, I’d noticed how he’d held back—how he’d kept control. It had felt dangerous at the time, and I’d been right. Our relationship was a danger because it had edged into reality for me but hadn’t for him. He’d only wanted me as a means to his own ends.
Hands folded, I held still as he approached. I had to ignore the burning of my eyes. There wasn’t space for that—not when we were stuck living in such close quarters. Not when I was the foolish one for believing in a lie.
He stopped, toes at the hem of my dress. I stared ahead, noting how the light grey of his shirt was the same colour as his eyes, taking in the pearlescent gleam of its buttons and the steady rise and fall of his broad chest. He stood there a long time, as though trying to decide how to do this.
At last, I swallowed down the salt coating the back of my throat and gathered myself enough to hold out my hand. A handshake. If he was going to be all business, then so would I.
But at that same moment his chest rose and fell deeply and he reached out—not for my hand, but for my cheek.
Even before he touched me, I sucked in a breath and lifted my head. As our gazes collided, his thumb brushed over my cheekbone.
It was so light I might’ve questioned whether he’d made contact with my skin or just the fine hairs there. Might’ve, if not for the fact it reverberated through me in a more intense version of the hum I’d felt on the bridge.
It vibrated along every nerve like I stood at the centre of an orchestra as its music rose in deafening crescendo. Every part of me trembled like I might tear apart on the next tick of the clock.
My lips parted, but I didn’t have breath to make a sound.
It affected Bastian, too, because the hairs on his forearms rose and the skin around his eyes tightened.
A shudder ran through his entire body and his pupils contracted in—was that pain?
But even if I’d been able to speak, I didn’t have time to ask because an instant later his pupils blew wide and the momentary tension vanished.
The stony faced stranger vanished at the same moment, leaving the man I knew.
This was Bastian, gaze flicking between my eyes and my mouth, leaning closer, fingertips hooking under my jaw. This was Bastian, wanting and hungry, seeing me—truly seeing, a softness in the crease between his brows that said he cared.
I shouldn’t want him to care and yet it sent my heart soaring. Maybe it hadn’t all been a lie. Maybe I hadn’t been entirely wrong. Maybe he—
But then there was a gulf where he had stood only an instantago. The magic, gone. My cheek, cold.
And Bastian, striding out the door.