8. Bastian
Bastian
“Y ou didn’t tell me your little friend had woken up.”
Midway through asking Queen Braea a question, I clamped my mouth shut. Her dark, dark eyes stayed on me, level, a glint of amusement in them.
I loved her as my queen. But I also hated how she saw right through me so easily… and raised her findings in the middle of a morning report before removing her earrings like nothing had happened.
Exhaustion dragged on me. I hadn’t slept well after Kat’s debriefing.
Any moment of quiet I found, her words gnawed on me, becoming dreams where I cut the changeling down again and again.
But each time, he rose, slashed and bloody, and came after Kat, dogging her every step, sinking his fingers into her, ripping her apart while I could do nothing but wade through his blood.
My day had been filled with re-interviewing witnesses to the previous Hydra Ascendant encounters. I’d read and re-read every report from the time and summoned everyone involved to interview them personally. If I’d missed any detail the first time, I’d find it now.
So far, though, nothing.
The frustration of that had made sleep difficult last night. And when I did manage to drift off, instead of nightmares about unCavendish, frustration of a different kind found me, tightening down my spine and low in my belly as I played out how that moment in my office might’ve gone differently.
Except it never would’ve ended with fucking her on my desk until I couldn’t think straight. Not in reality. I’d destroyed any hope I had with Kat when I’d used her.
Listening to her apologise to me had only added fuel to my guilt.
Especially when I couldn’t even bring myself to say it back.
It was too big. There were too many words. An explanation I didn’t know how to give.
Now, I stood before my queen, fresh from those impossible dreams, groggy and grumpy and attempting to put a professional face on it all.
“Didn’t I mention it?” I raised my eyebrows. “It must’ve slipped my mind.”
Sitting at her dressing table, she pulled pins from her elaborate hairstyle, depositing them in a dish. The tight curls eased over her shoulders as they were released. “You ran a stag to death to bring her here. She must be important. Too important to slip your mind.”
“She uncovered the changeling. I would’ve felt bad if she’d died on my account.” Not untrue. Just not the entire truth.
Clicking her tongue, she shook her head. “Really, Bastian. First you don’t report to me as soon as you return, then this? You’ve got me wondering what other secrets you’re keeping.”
I bit my tongue on the reminder that Dawn was Ascendant by the time I reached the palace. It wouldn’t help. “What could I possibly be hiding from you, Your Majesty?”
In the mirror, she arched an eyebrow at me. “Isn’t that the question?”
I held still, used to these games, and returned her penetrating look with a bored one. She was the person who’d taught me how beneficial it was to put others off balance, and it was from my baba I’d learned a mask of boredom could hide a multitude of sins.
“I want to meet her.”
“That won’t be—”
“Ennet,” she called, voice taking on a commanding quality that would pierce the doors to her chamber.
At once, her assistant’s face appeared at the door, notebook and pen in hand. “Your Majesty?”
“Arrange a ball for next week.”
Ennet pulled a slim diary from her pocket. The pages flicked themselves. “Your Majesty’s calendar is full all week. There’s nothing until next month.”
“Fine.” Braea flicked her hand, impatience huffing through the solitary word. “Arrange it for then. Just don’t bore me with the details.”
“Very good, Your Majesty.” Ennet scribbled in the diary before tucking it away. “Any particular theme, or should I take care of it?”
“I want to reward this human of Bastian’s for services to my court.”
“She isn’t mine,” I said a little too quickly for my bored exterior.
Ennet shot me a glance but nodded. “Bastian is right. We don’t steal humans anymore, if you’ll recall. You agreed—”
“Oh, I know very well what I agreed, Ennet!” Braea slammed another hair pin into the dish. “Stars above, must you be so literal? All I mean is for you to organise something in the girl’s honour.”
My blood ran cold. I wanted to lurch forward and stop this, but I needed to remember myself and what it meant to be calm.
Oblivious, Braea went on. “Show her the Night Queen rewards loyalty.” She snorted. “Maybe even blow her little human mind with all the wonder of fae hospitality.”
“That won’t be necessary.” I chuckled and waved my hand, proud of how at ease I seemed.
“Nonsense!” She shook her head before disappearing behind her dressing screen, which showed the night sky lightening ready for dawn.
Not long before Sleep would claim her and I still had questions—questions that related to work rather than to a ball that would draw far too much attention to Kat. “We need to—”
“The girl saved your life, and I want to meet her,” her voice cut from the other side of the screen. “She will have a ball. Ennet, you will arrange it. That is that.”
“Consider it done, Your Majesty.” Even though the queen couldn’t see us, Ennet bowed her head before starting for the door.
Braea emerged wearing a dressing robe. “Oh, and have it in the lodestone ballroom. Invite Dawn.” She gave a narrow smile that made her black eyes glint. “I want them reminded that a mere human girl foiled their attempt to poison my Shadow.”
I bit back a groan. Great. So Dawn would also be reminded of Kat’s importance.
Not missing a step, Ennet scribbled in her notebook. “Goodnight, Your Majesty.” With a bow, she exited.
“My dear Bastian.” Braea sighed as she approached. “There’s no need for that scowl. I’ll ensure everyone knows Kate—”
“Kat.”
She flicked her fingers dismissively before cupping my cheek. “— Kat is not only under your protection but mine . She’ll have a lovely time, I’m sure of it. Happy?”
“Ecstatic.”
Hand sinking, she huffed out through her nose. “Fine, sarcasm will do.” She swept over to the bed with a yawn. “You’re lucky. Most queens wouldn’t indulge you as I do, you know.”
“I know. And I’m eternally grateful.”
That also wasn’t a lie. She alone was responsible for putting me in this position. Not just living in the palace with all its benefits, but in a role where I could hold so many strings—strings that held our two courts in balance and kept everything under control.
“I’m the one who should be grateful to you.” A sadness flickered at the edges of her smile, and I wondered if she thought of the daughter I’d killed for her.
If I dwelled on it, I could feel her blood on my hands— royal blood—mingling with my father’s.
I could hear the thud of her head landing on the throne room floor and rolling, the collective gasp in response.
I could smell her fear before I’d struck—so overwhelming it had blotted out every other scent.
That was why I didn’t dwell on it.
Instead, I watched the queen I’d given so much to as she smoothed a lightly scented oil into her bronze skin. “Have you made any progress with your investigations into the changeling?” she asked, not looking up from the floating hand-mirror.
“I have a few threads I’m pulling at, but the Hydra Ascendant business is taking up most of my time. Kat was able to give me some useful information about unCavendish, though, and—”
“Un-what?”
“UnCavendish. That’s her name for the changeling.”
Braea’s eyebrow rose, sharp as a blade. “Is it, now?”
Even in small ways like this, Kat’s influence had crept under my skin. As sweet and sharp and insidious as her poison.
Despite the sting when I gave her that first touch of the day, I would gladly lick the stuff from her fingers and beg her for more. Fuck antidotes. Fuck everything else. Fuck—
Good gods, Bastian. Control yourself.
I swallowed down the rising madness and cleared my throat.
“She’s been very helpful. It’s just a shame she burned the note I recovered from their spies.
” Decoding it would’ve given us information about what Dawn had really been up to in Lunden.
It wasn’t as though Caelus had made any real attempts to woo the human queen.
“Hmm.” Braea’s expression soured. “I suppose there’s nothing we can do about that. Now—”
She yawned, wide and uncontrolled. The dressing screen showed the brightest point of night, moments from the sun breaking the horizon.
“It’s time.”
She grumbled and hunkered down in the bed, her mirror landing on the side table. “Of course it is. I’ve only been doing this for centuries.” Another yawn smothered the end of her sentence. “Good morning.” She waved me away.
“Good morning, Your Majesty.”
When I reached the door, seconds from dawn, her voice drifted over. “Thank you, Bastian. For all you sacrifice for my court. It doesn’t go unnoticed.”
I paused in the doorway, a tightness in my chest, but she didn’t say anything more.
On the dressing screen, day had broken.