A Touch of Poison (Shadows of the Tenebris Court, #2)

But Prince Sepher and Zita didn’t seem to mind. In fact, while pouring coffee, she invited me to their bed. I chuckled to myself about that the next day as I walked through the city to Kaliban’s house, taking a break from research.

When he opened the door, he eyed me and the basket of food. “You do remember I can’t take your memories, right? Or has your mind broken and you’ve forgotten?”

“I remember. Are you going to let me in?”

He made a low sound but let me pass. “Why are you here, then?”

“I don’t know.” I shrugged and placed the basket on the side as he watched me from the doorway. “Maybe I just can’t get enough of your outstanding hospitality.”

He grumbled in the way Morag did when I was hardest to love. “I suppose you’re going to want tea, aren’t you?”

“See? That’s exactly what I mean. So welcoming.”

Filling the kettle, he muttered, “You’re almost as sarcastic as…” As he put it on the stove, his words faded into silence and a tightness pulled around his features, making my heart clench in response.

The slippers. His partner must’ve been sarcastic too. Maybe his prickliness was understandable.

“I got you some cake.” I held it up as I emptied the basket. “Lemon drizzle—one of the queens of cake, if you ask me.”

He raised his eyebrows, peering at the wrapped loaf cake. “One of the queens? You have… some sort of ranking system for cakes?”

“It’s more a hierarchy. But doesn’t everyone?”

Eyes narrowing, he canted his head. “I’m sure I’m going to regret asking, but… what is your hierarchy of cakes?”

I gestured with the bunch of kale I was putting away. “So, the queens are top tier. Obviously, they’re lemon drizzle, coffee cake (without walnuts), and lemon tarts.”

“Oh, obviously.”

“And pastries are included. It would be ridiculous to have a whole separate system for those.”

“Yes, that would be the ridiculous part.”

I pointed a carrot at him. “Don’t think I missed the way you eyed it. You know she’s a queen. And I know you’re dying to get your hands on a slice.” I finished putting the food away and dusted off my hands. “It goes perfectly with a cup of tea.”

“Ah, so I’m getting out plates and a knife as well as the cups, then.” As he fetched them, he frowned.

“What’s wrong?”

“Not wrong, just…” He ended on a brisk sigh and poured us tea. “There’s something different about you.”

I stiffened as he slid my cup across the table. “I thought you weren’t going to read me.”

“No, not like that.” He stirred a dash of honey into his drink, eyeing me like he was seeing into my soul. “I heard what happened… that you’re no longer married.”

“I prefer ‘happily widowed.’”

He chuckled. “It fits nicely. Though, I thought it would leave you afraid. Closed. But… your demeanour. You’re embracing… well, everything, rather than trying to shut some things out.”

I sat back, rubbing my chest. Was I so obvious? “I’m not sure how to take that.”

He lifted one shoulder. “It’s not an insult, and it’s not dangerous, either. But I think you’re starting to understand—you can’t shut some things out and let others in. You shut the door and you lose it all.”

You can’t choose what you numb. If you’re deadened, you lose the good and the bad. It was like he’d been speaking to Ella.

“Your magic seems more under control, too.” His gaze dropped to my fingers. “No gloves. You must be feeling more confident.”

I pushed my hands into my lap in case he decided to test out my control. Only the nails were purple, but I still didn’t trust that to mean I was safe to touch anyone. That I hadn’t hazed by accident for a while was a small matter of pride for me. I’d take my victories where I could. “It seems… a little easier to keep hold of.”

The corner of his mouth rose. I couldn’t decide if it was an amused smirk or a happy smile that he tried to smother. “And let me guess—it’s because you’ve been letting go a little?”

It was my turn to grumble as I focused on stirring lemon and honey into my tea.

“It’s all about balance, Kat.” When I looked up, I found him placing the teaspoon on his finger, finding the balancing point.

I raised an eyebrow. “Rather a literal illustration, don’t you think?”

He huffed and grabbed the spoon, using it to point at me. “Such a disrespectful child. Fine, let me give you a more metaphorical one. As a human, I doubt you’ve heard how the universe was created.”

I blew across my tea. “I’m all ears.”

“Blunt ones,” he muttered. “In the time before, there was only the eternal nothingness of the heavens and the Celestial Serpent. He ventured through the darkness searching for something, anything, but there was only himself—as dark as the night itself.”

“That sounds lonely.” I ran my nail over the rim of my cup.

“Hence his search. After an age, he finally spotted something—a light in the distance. It took him aeons to reach it, but he kept his gaze fixed on that distant light, since it was the only thing he had. Little by little it became clearer, until he realised it was another serpent. The Tellurian Serpent, as bright as he was dark—his equal and opposite. She was as overjoyed as him, for she had a similar story of journeying and loneliness and a search for something amidst the void.”

Although it was a myth—and a myth about two snakes no less—I found myself smiling. I’d never searched through endless space, but I had known the void of loneliness.

“In their joy, they shared themselves, all that they were, all that they’d thought in their journeys and had no one to speak of it to, and in the lifetimes their conversations stretched over, they fell in love. Because although they were opposites—him angry where she was joyful, him guarded where she was curious—they brought out the best in each other. Her curiosity drew him from behind the walls he’d built. His anger at the universe for leaving them to suffer alone gave her passion. Coming together changed them both. Glimmers of light began to twinkle in his scales. Points of darkness speckled hers.”

The panel in Bastian’s office. “A light serpent with dark stars, and a dark serpent with light ones.”

Kaliban inclined his head. “Though there were no stars then. Only the two serpents… until they mated.”

What was a fae story without sex? I hid my smirk by taking a sip of tea.

“The Tellurian Serpent grew thick, and the Celestial Serpent slowed his pace and helped her in their eternal flight. But when her time came, she didn’t lay an egg.” A hint of sadness marked his downcast gaze. “Her body heaved and broke apart, glimmering scales creating the sun and stars, one eye forming the earth, its black pupil the Underworld. While her other eye formed another world.”

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