Prince Cyrus had shielded his escape—could he be behind it? Making him look like a hero? That was the kind of self-aggrandising thing I could see him doing.
But, no, Lucius seemed more likely. He was behind unCavendish. He wanted the Crown of Ashes. This could all be a distraction to help him get it or information on its whereabouts. Or maybe even assassinate the queen.
My head buzzed with the possibilities, aching behind my eyes.
“I think the king’s behind this.” When Ella shot me a wide-eyed look, I added, “Maybe. But if he is, then Bastian’s in danger.”
Ari used her emergency sewing kit to stitch into the makeshift bandages, whispering her magic. Not missing a beat in her chant, she tilted her head in question.
Ella passed her another strip of torn fabric. “I think Ari’s wondering what makes you think that.”
“If Bastian believes it is Hydra Ascendant, he’ll ensure the queen and king are safe. Since the attack seems to have broken out here, the king seems the more likely target, so Bastian will go to him.” Though most likely he’d split in two so he could check on both, but I couldn’t reveal his secret. “And if the king is behind this…” I swallowed and clenched my hands as a chill slithered down my spine. “Well, he had unCavendish try to take Bastian off the board once before. What better way to get rid of the queen’s greatest asset than in a ‘rebel attack?’”
“Doesn’t that mean Asher’s in danger?” Perry pushed herself up from lying on the settee. “And the others too, I mean.”
Ari pressed her back down, but shot me a fearful glance. Those “others” included her husband.
“Perhaps. But I think they’ll be looking for you rather than the king.” Bastian would choose his duty, but he wouldn’t stop the others coming after the people they cared for.
Ella arched an eyebrow. “What’s your plan? I assume you have one.”
“Find the nearest lodestone and get to Dusk’s side of the palace. Either he’ll be at the queen’s apartments or someone there will know where he is.”
Or I’d find one side of him guarding the queen—at least then if the king managed to kill his other half, it wouldn’t matter. Explaining his apparent death without revealing his secret might be a challenge, but changelings made an excellent excuse.
“Good plan.” Rose planted her hands on her hips. “Let’s help barricade Perry in, then get going.”
“I’ll stay.” Ari looked up from wrapping bandages around Perry’s leg, while Perry squeezed Ella’s hand. “I’m no fighter—I’ll only slow you down. I’ll be safe here.”
“Me too.” Ella winced as Perry let out a pained grunt. “I think I’ve had my fill of fighting for one day.” She gave a tight little smile, gaze flicking over to the blood stained carpet. We’d piled the bodies in the corner.
That settled it. We moved Perry into the next room along the hall, since the door to the yellow parlour was damaged. Ella would lock it after us, then she and Ari only needed to slide some furniture against it and wait out the rest of the attack with Fluffy to protect them.
Not ideal, but we had no ideal options.
As I readied to leave, Rose held out her palm. We fell silent as the clink of metal passed outside. She lifted her nose and sniffed as the sound faded.
“That was a large group.” Her brow creased. “Ten at least—maybe a dozen.”
Shit.
Too many for me and Rose to take if we encountered them while we were out there.
But if I hazed…
My heart tolled, heavy in my chest. “Why don’t you bring over that cabinet so Ari and Ella don’t have to move it far? That’ll give that group a minute to get clear away before we head out.”
“Good thinking.”
Rose headed over to the heavy item of furniture, and the instant her back was turned, I slipped out.
“Wait,” she called as I shut the door. “Kat?”
I slid my stolen dagger into the lock and hammered my fist on the hilt. The tip pinged off the dagger, so I shoved it further in and hammered again. The lock clunked. Jammed or broken.
Someone rattled the handle as Rose called, “Kat? What the hells are you doing?”
“Katherine Ferrers.” Ella’s voice snaked up from the mangled keyhole. “You let us out this instant.”
“I’m sorry.” I glanced along the corridor, but there was no sign of the troops returning. “If I’m on my own, I can unleash my poison without fear of hurting you.”
“Fuck,” Rose huffed, followed by a scraping sound like she slid down the door. “Fuck!”
“I’m sorry. But I need to do this.”
I pressed my hand to the door, as a frustrated sob filtered through.
“You’d better stay safe,” Ella hissed, voice cracking.
“Don’t I always?”
“No! You fucking don’t.”
“Well… maybe this time will be different.”
With that, I squared my shoulders and started down the corridor. By Perry’s reckoning, we were on the western side of the palace, roughly towards the middle. The throne room had to be east from here, so I aimed for a turning that would take me that way.
This time was different.
I was different.
I had thought my identity erased the moment I’d taken that poison and given up on survival.
But I knew who I was.
I knew exactly who I was.
I’d killed Horrors. I’d faced one of the Ladies of the Lake, a princess thought dead, and a changeling who’d fooled and abused me.
I’d killed a husband who’d wronged me more times than I could remember.
I’d endured Elthea’s treatments, even when they crossed the line into torture.
I’d learned how to turn power that had been thrust upon me to my ends. I’d turned poison into a gift.
And today I’d used that poison to protect my friends.
My gift might be death. But I used death.
I was not the powerless woman who’d woken in the Hall of Healing.
I was Katherine Fucking Ferrers, and I was going to go and save the man I loved.
92
Bastian
Faolán’s nostrils flared as he lifted his head.
“A scent?” I murmured as we passed through the wide corridor.
“It’s them. They’re all together.” He shot ahead, and we followed. Each turning made my heart beat faster.
We have them, I told my other self. A few times, I’d felt the slight dizziness as our awareness came together and he checked in to see whether we’d found Kat. I’ll show you when we find her. You focus on the king.
I felt his grumble but also that it was edged with relief.
She would be fine. She had to be. And if she or any of the others were injured, we had Asher.
The trail led us to a bloodstained carpet and a busted door. My stomach dropped.
Faolán scented the air. “Not theirs.” Blade ready, he crept into the room.
More blood and something pulpy mashed into the carpet. Lysander wrinkled his nose.
Faolán shook his head. “Still not…” He stilled, then hurried over to the bloody settee. “Hmm.”
That hmm made my veins freeze. “Faolán?”
Exhaling, he strode out to the hallway, while Lysander and Asher gave me questioning looks. I shrugged and followed him. They didn’t understand his different hmms, and I wasn’t going to dangle bad news in front of them until we knew more.