65. Kat
Kat
“N ice,” it turned out, was an understatement.
Our room was large and furnished in Dusk colours, with a canopied four-poster bed and sunset painted across the ceiling.
Granted, it was missing a window and ivy grew in through cracks in the wall, but roses climbed over the windowsill and somehow the room wasn’t cold.
Bastian muttered something about it being magically sealed.
The guards removed our manacles and deposited our saddlebags—they must’ve found our stags.
They left, locking the door behind them.
Bastian drew a long breath like it was the first he’d taken in minutes, and the colour flooded back into his skin.
The purple stain rushed back into my nails and fingertips, too, much less welcome.
He shuddered as if shaking off the iron’s effects, and then he was towering over me, cupping my cheek. “Are you all right? Are you sure ?”
I rubbed my chest. “The healer said it just missed my heart. That’s the only reason I survived long enough to get here. But I’m fine.” I closed my fingers around his wrist. “Are you? You looked so ill.”
“A little nauseous and weak, but I’ll be fine. As long as the exposure isn’t prolonged or in the bloodstream, iron poisoning wears off eventually.”
“So… since I’m not fae, if I wore something made of iron, it would cut off my magic but otherwise I’d have no ill effects?” I felt tired and queasy, yes, but not so long ago, I’d had an arrow sticking out of my chest. I’d take queasy over that.
His expression closed down into a frown as he slid his hand to my shoulder. “Why?”
I cleared my throat and backed away, slipping from his grasp. “Don’t you want to discuss what just happened? The princess—she’s alive .”
“No. Not yet.” Absently, he touched the scar on his chin.
I couldn’t argue—he had a lot to process.
He canted his head. “I’m much more interested in you explaining why you want to know about iron.”
“Do you really need to ask?”
“I want to hear you say it.”
I pointed towards the door. “That is the first time I’ve known peace in months.” Except for when I’d sunk into his arms, utterly torn apart. “I poisoned Ella, and then I killed all those people. Even the Lady of the Lake said I can’t control my magic.”
“That isn’t what—”
“You don’t know what she meant, Bastian. Maybe that’s exactly what she was saying. I seek to control it, but I never will. Doesn’t that fit her answer?”
His mouth flattened, scar going pale.
“I can’t control my power, so I need something that will shut it off. I couldn’t live with myself if I killed someone by accident.” I swallowed, eyes burning. “I’m not sure I can live with myself after…”
Those bodies at my feet. So many of them.
He gave me a gentle shake, bringing me back.
“They were going to kill us, Kat. Maybe she wants me alive, but…” The muscles in his neck corded.
“As far as she is concerned, you are expendable. At best, you saved both our lives. At worst, you saved yours. Both are worth whatever bodies you left on that battlefield.”
“But the pain—”
“Do you think they’d have given you a painless death?” He splayed his hand over my chest. “Did that arrow hurt?”
Not at first, but as oblivion had rolled in, yes.
I bowed my head. “I still can’t control it. I’m a danger to everyone. That’s why you have Rose guard me all the time, really, isn’t it?”
His silence was enough of an answer.
No one in the city was likely to harm me. Not while I lived under his protection. But I was a danger to them.
“Not… solely,” he said at last. “I want to keep you safe, whether that’s from attack or from how much it would harm you if you inadvertently hurt someone.”
“Then you understand why I need iron.”
“It will make you sick. It nullifies your ring and fae charm itself, but it blocks all incoming magic, including healing. It’s not the solution it seems to be. Maybe you didn’t feel too bad just now, but you were only wearing it for half an hour. Over time…”
“But I’m not fae.”
“No, but you heard the Lady of the Lake, and Elthea, too.” His face tightened at her name. “You’re not entirely human—not anymore. Iron makes gifted humans sick after a while. Who knows what it would do to you in the long term?”
“And what about the constant fear of poisoning someone? Isn’t that enough to make me ill?”
His hands fisted as he huffed. “Iron is a punishment, not something you do to someone you love.”
My next argument died on my lips. Love ? No, he… he just cared about me. But my chest was doing something strange, like my heart danced, forgetting entirely about its normal beat.
“We’ll find another way.” Jaw muscle twitching, he backed off and turned away. “I’m running you a bath.”
I swallowed, searching for my voice as he threw open the bathroom door. “That isn’t going to fix me.”
“No.” With me following, he stalked into a bathroom with no ceiling. Above, the evening sky lit up with the first stars. “But it will get rid of the stink of whoever’s shirt that is.”
I sniffed the shirt. “Are you saying I smell?”
“Of another man.”
I sat on the edge of the large bath as steaming water ran into it. He glowered, looking between two bottles of bubble bath.
“You know I don’t need your permission to do this, don’t you?”
“You don’t need my permission for anything.
But I hope you’ll reconsider.” He showed me the labels, and I chose the hyacinth and amber scent over the lilac one.
“You’ve been making progress,” he muttered as he poured a generous dose into the bath.
“If I help you, you’ll be able to use it.
I felt you drain the trees—your magic is unseelie, like mine. ”
Use it ? I’d done enough with this power. Nausea rose in me, and I distracted myself by asking, “So… I didn’t poison the trees, I… drained the life from them?”
“Sort of. Their magic, not their life. But they’re connected—all living things have some link to the power that runs through the universe.”
“Ariadne said something like that. She feels it when she uses her magic—threads connecting everything.”
He made a soft sound of amusement. “Of course a threadwitch would see it that way. But I’m sorry. I sent you to all the wrong people for help and… it’s taken me embarrassingly long to realise.”
“Well, you were avoiding me a good portion of that time.” I arched an eyebrow at him and grinned when he looked up from frothing the bubbles.
“I was a coward, I confess, afraid of being alone with you too much.” His gaze drifted away, following the scented steam. “What a waste of time.” He seemed distant for a beat before shaking it off. “But you avoided me, too.”
“Fair point.”
We chuckled, and he left me to bathe. The water was hot and wonderful, the sunset beautiful, and there was no scar on my chest. I could almost persuade myself that although we were captives, this space was a haven from the outside world rather than a prison.
Overhead, the sky darkened to night, and when I emerged, I found Bastian already sprawled across the bed, asleep. I wasn’t surprised after the battle and the iron.
He thought he could help me, but it was better if I had no magic and couldn’t hurt anyone. I would get hold of iron. Somehow.