34. Bastian
Bastian
T he sight of her trembling, with tears on her cheeks, had me on high alert, muscles and shadows ready to rip apart anything or anyone. But when I saw the dead plant in the gloom and the way she yanked on her gloves, I understood.
Her poison.
“Come with me.” I had to place a hand at the small of her back to get her to obey. “It’s all right.”
But she shook her head over and over, staring at the ground a few feet ahead. “The roses. I killed them. That whole plant—gone.”
“It’s all right,” I murmured in the low, soothing tone I’d used with my father on his bad nights. “The gardeners will clear it up.”
The sharp creases between her eyebrows cut deep. She held up her gloved hands as though only now truly seeing them. “I am death walking.”
She wasn’t even hearing me, not really. So, I rubbed her back and ushered her along. Maybe showing her would work where telling her didn’t.
The palace hothouse loomed from the darkness, a ghostly set of glass towers that glowed from within.
Her breaths had calmed by the time we reached its doors and, arms folded, she peered up as we entered.
The thick, humid air hit us. Tropical trees with broad leaves soared into the darkness, and around us ferns lined the path.
Buzzing insects blanketed the building with their hum, like a calm version of the magic running through the River Velos.
Pale orchids grew on the trees, adding their vanilla scent to the air.
Instead of fae lights drifting along to show the way, blue and violet glowing fungus encrusted the trees and fallen trunks, and tiny flowers with nodding heads spilled motes of glimmering pollen. It drifted as we moved, sparkling with each step as it rose around us.
Her mouth fell open as she took it all in. Her tears had stopped.
Watching her experience it all—the way she took in a long breath of air scented with dampness and growth, and the sweet pollen—heightened every sensation. She made the tree’s shadows darker, the glowing mushrooms brighter, the heady smell more intoxicating.
She moistened her lips, and I found myself caught up in that simple gesture. “What are all these plants for? Do you eat them? Or use them for dyes? Why build this whole glasshouse and go through the trouble of magically heating it?”
There she was. My practical ember. Although, if it distracted her from poison, I would accept practical.
“One thing I realised during my time in your country is how humans and fae are different.” I set a slow pace along the path, keeping my hand on her back, enjoying her warmth through the sheer lace.
“We have an inherent cultural appreciation of beauty, in art and nature. It’s why we favour human artisans—if they can already create beauty, we want to enhance that and see what heights they can achieve. ”
She made a soft sound, but said nothing.
“There’s beauty in stories, music, song, dance, people… in physical love, as well as emotional.” Even if it could devastate—I couldn’t deny its beauty. “In passion of all kinds.”
Her brow creased. “So, they aren’t tropical vegetables?”
I chuckled. “If we only grow vegetables, what will we look at while we dine? What will give us a reason to eat? Why bother living for tomorrow if not for things that feed our souls?”
The crease deepened as her gaze skipped from plant to plant.
“There is beauty in the world, Kat. And beauty has a value.”
She snorted and eyed me sidelong. “I was asked to spy on you because of my looks. Don’t you think I know it has value?”
Was that all she saw? What she had that someone would pay for?
“Not that kind of value. Not the kind that is used or paid for or coveted.” I splayed my fingers across her back, enjoying the way it made her draw a quick breath. “I mean, inherent value.”
She pursed her lips, making a faint sound that said she either didn’t understand or wasn’t convinced. Yet the hothouse plants still held her attention, so maybe deep down she knew.
“Beauty can keep us going. It gives us a reason to live and fight.” My chest tightened with the heavy truth of it. If not for being able to take pleasure in life, I would’ve given up long ago.
This was why I needed her to understand.
“It is a balm for the soul.” My voice came out rough and raw, and her gaze jerked to me.
Her eyes gleamed with turquoise and violet light. The closeness of her attention—the softness of it—almost silenced me.
“It is a balm for the soul, no matter how broken that soul may be. It is something . And when you have nothing left, even a scrap of something is important.”
She bit her lip and bowed her head.
We hadn’t raised her outburst, but the words surfaced now. It wasn’t worth saving. I would give her every scrap of everything if it made her realise that wasn’t true.
My shadows pooled around her, barely skimming my feet as we walked on in silence.
I tried to keep my eyes on the path ahead, but they kept returning to her, gauging her reaction, whether she believed me.
Her fingertips toyed with a shadow that reared up at her side.
I wasn’t sure if she realised she was doing it.
“Why are you being nice to me? Why save my life? Bring me here? Have me live with you? Give me this?” She touched the bulge in her glove where my ring sat. “I spied on you. I lied to you. I tried to poison you, for fuck’s sake.”
The ghost of a laugh hummed in my throat. “You didn’t though, did you? You took it yourself like the wonderful idiot you are.”
Her teeth showed for a second before she bowed her head as if trying to hide her smile. She took a long breath before turning back, the smile gone. “I am sorry, you know. Truly. I just… I couldn’t escape him.”
My teeth gritted together as all the things she’d told me about unCavendish blasted through me at once, a horrible cacophony of every sentence in her report. Listening to her answers, I’d bitten my cheek until I’d drawn blood. If not for the grounding metallic taste, I’d have lost my fucking mind.
“You already apologised.” I stroked her back, letting my thumb run along the groove over her spine.
It was meant to be reassuring, but I ate up the little shiver she gave in its wake.
“And I cut you off. Quite rudely, in fact.” Letting her continue would’ve broken me, and I’d already been dangerously close to that.
So I’d pushed her away. “That’s on me. You don’t owe me anything—apologies included. ”
I still owed her, though. I’d said the words, yes. But actions mattered more, and this, tonight, was a small thing I could do—a step towards earning her forgiveness.
We walked on, the quiet between us soft and calm until she gave a sudden exhale as though reaching a decision. “I need to tell you something. About unCavendish. I’ve found out—”
“Not here.” I used a shadow to squeeze her hand in reassurance. “It isn’t secure and… and unless it’s an emergency, can I just be Bastian rather than a spymaster? Just for a little while.”
The look she gave me was tender enough to break me. I had to look away and busied myself shrugging off my jacket, in danger of wilting in the heat.
Aside from the low neckline, Kat’s gown covered her to elbows and ankles. Since entering the hothouse, a pink flush had crept across her skin, and now she fanned her face with one hand.
“You can take off your gloves, you know. I’m the only person here, and you can’t poison me.” Too late for that. She’d seeped under my skin months ago.
“The plants,” she muttered, frowning as she wrung her hands.
I blocked her path and stopped, forcing her to halt. “You’re going to melt.”
Her lips flattened.
I loved her determination. But sometimes, I cursed it.
Sighing, I pulled one of her hands free. “You can’t hurt me, Katherine.” I tugged the little finger of her glove, then the next and the next, until I could peel the light fabric from her skin.
It was ridiculous that doing this made the hairs on the back of my neck rise. I’d seen her naked, tasted her, explored her sweet slickness—taking off a glove shouldn’t feel this intimate. Yet goosebumps pricked her forearms, so I wasn’t alone in this feeling.
I rubbed the dark stain of her fingertips, and shuddered at the sting followed by the heady resonance of our magic meeting. Our first touch since sunset. I hadn’t accounted for that and the way it rushed through me, hot and intoxicating.
Kat’s nostrils flared as she took in heaving breaths. She watched, eyelids fluttering until our magic faded, leaving a deep ache in me.
I removed the other glove and caught her hands between mine. Eyes closing, she sagged, like my touch was a relief, even without our mingled magic.
Fuck. The way she responded… it had spelled my doom in Albion, and she was no less dangerous here.
I wasn’t supposed to be seducing her. This was meant to be a comfort.
“Come,” I rasped, and led her to a quiet corner where a glass-walled room stood separate. Vents kept this space cooler than the rest of the hothouse.
Her eyes widened at the tall spikes of deep purple flowers with black centres. “Aconite.”
I braced myself for the scent.
Death.
It made the instinctual part of me want to turn and run.
Weapons could kill us, yes. But iron and aconite? They killed slowly .
A clever joke for the gods to make it such a beautiful plant.
As long as I didn’t eat or touch it, I’d be fine. I planted my feet and nodded towards the hooded flowers. “Try touching it.”
“But I’ll…” Her eyes widened. “You think I won’t kill it because… My poison is its poison.” She examined the nearest plant, then took a deep breath.
Slowly, slowly, she reached out. Half an inch from the purple petals, she faltered, and I willed her on.
She straightened her back and crossed that gap.
Breath held, she waited. Glaring at the flowers, daring them to die, I waited.
Nothing happened.
Kat’s chin wobbled like she might cry. Then she laughed. A laugh of relief. Of surprise. Of pleasure.
The most perfect sound I ever heard.
She looked up at me as if to check I saw the same thing she did. When I nodded, she flung her arms around me and buried her face in my chest.
I’d have been a liar if I said I didn’t love it, seizing the opportunity to hold her close. “You will learn to control this gift, Kat. But in the meantime, you’re not alone.”
She pulled back, eyes glassy-bright as she looked up at me. In a small voice she said, “It feels like I am.”
“No, you’re not. You have Ella and Perry, Rose and Ari, and…
And I’m here.” I wanted to say “you have me” but stopped myself.
If I’d been drinking arianmêl , I would’ve spouted that and all sorts of things I shouldn’t.
Enjoying myself too much in Lunden had made it harder to keep myself reined in now I was home.
“ Now you are, but…”
“I know. My work.” I sighed and pushed the hair from her face. “I need you to be brave for me, Kat. You can face this. I know you can.”
She frowned. “I don’t feel very brave.”
“You’re the Wicked Lady.”
“She wasn’t brave, just desperate.”
I shook my head, not understanding her distinction.
“We needed food. If I couldn’t get it…” She shivered against me.
“Once, early in our marriage, Robin and I were attacked on the road.” She winced as though she hated the reminder of her husband even more than I did.
“The highwayman took a tidy sum from us that night. A few months later, I found Robin’s papers showing all his debts. ”
Every muscle thrummed as I held myself very still. After seeing the bruise on Kat’s cheek, I’d asked Asher to pay him a visit to make sure he understood that he wasn’t welcome in the same room as his wife, whatever he thought his marriage entitled him to.
I hadn’t trusted myself to face him. Not with our mission so close to success. Ripping apart one of her subjects with my shadows wouldn’t have gone down too well with the human queen.
“His debts?” I prompted her, since she seemed lost in thought.
“I did what I could.” She shrugged. “Sold some furniture, the silverware, gilded candlesticks—that sort of thing. But once that was gone… I couldn’t sell any land or the house.
I couldn’t get a job. Robin had already used my dowry to get a creditor off his back…
and buy himself a new wardrobe.” Her smile could’ve cut glass.
“I had no option. The only way I could see to make money…”
“Was the Wicked Lady,” I said into the silence she left hanging.
“So you see, she’s an invention of desperation, not a sign of bravery.”
I frowned at her until she cocked her head in question.
“And yet you faced me down on the road. You spied on me. You let me have you in a number of compromising positions, one time in front of dozens of other people. You rode in that race and kept yourself together when you dangled over the waterfall, inches from death. You shot a fucking Horror in the eye.”
Her laugh was dismissive, as if everyone did such things. “I was terrified the whole time.”
“We only get to be brave when we’re afraid.”
Her face dropped. She blinked, and I could see her replaying what I’d just said.
“You are brave, Kat. Probably the bravest person I know. It’s just… somewhere along the way, you convinced yourself that you weren’t.”
She shook her head and went to reply—to argue, no doubt.
“My father told me that who you really are is what you do when no one else is looking.” The words unfolded in me together with a deeper truth. “You, Katherine, are only yourself when no one else is looking. The rest of it? It’s a mask you wear to keep yourself safe.”
Brow creased, she turned to the aconite. “Maybe what you think is a mask is the real me.”
But she didn’t sound as sure as she had earlier.
I’d take that as progress.