She might’ve woken.
Of course, I wanted her to wake. To be safe and healthy and whole.
And yet…
I winced.
Because once she did, I would have to tell her the news.
2
Kat
Distant voices—soft, almost musical, echoing like they were in a large space. Not familiar.
I fought my heavy eyelids. The idea of lying here in some unknown place with unknown people prickled me—far too vulnerable. And the lack of footsteps punctuating the sound felt off.
Unsafe.
I managed to pry my eyes open, letting in bright, bright light.
Was I dead? I’d heard stories like that. King Arthur when he began his adventures in the Underworld had first seen a pure white light.
I squinted and tried to keep quiet—whoever was nearby, I didn’t want them to know I was awake—but my body wasn’t entirely under my command, and its stiffness made me groan.
Nearby, a gasp. The rustle of movement. The sudden silence of a held breath.
So much for secrecy. I tried to rub my eyes, but maybe my body was taking a while to catch up with my mind, because my arms wouldn’t move. Instead I had to blink away the weight of sleep and this blinding light.
A white ceiling vaulted overhead—marble, judging by the veins creeping across it and down the walls. The veins led to a large cabinet divided into little drawers, with two large glass doors. Inside glinted jars and bottles in a hundred sizes and a hundred colours.
And there.
To one side, shadows churning, sitting forward in his chair, silver eyes wide—Bastian.
I smiled. I couldn’t help it. Not with the way his eyebrows inched up in the very image of hope. Not with the way his familiarity soothed that uncomfortable sense of vulnerability that came with waking somewhere so unfamiliar.
His chest and shoulders sank as he let out a long breath, relief palpable in the still air. “Katherine.” He said it softly, like I was a forest animal he didn’t want to scare away.
Something warm kindled in my chest, and like a fool, I nodded.
In a single smooth movement, he stood.
He made it a step closer before something came crashing down inside him. His chin dipped and his eyebrows thundered together as his gaze slid from mine. For a second, his eyes screwed shut.
Was that regret? And… something else? Something dark, like the shadows pooling around his feet. His hands fisted, and the shadows snapped close, like a hound whose leash had been yanked.
In silence, he pivoted and strode for the door.
He crushed my heart under the ball of his foot with that turn.
But then I remembered.
The poison. The changeling.
The truth.
I let my head sink back onto the pillow as he called into the echoing hall for someone.
He’d betrayed me and I’d betrayed him. Of course he wouldn’t come to me, and I didn’t want him to, either. It was only that moment when I’d woken—the instant before I remembered everything.
There were snatches of other moments, too. Asher treating me. Talk of blood. Snow. A deer’s antlers. Strange fever dreams.
Eyes shut, I shook my head, like that would toss it all into some semblance of order. I could sort through the past later—I still didn’t know about now. “Where am—?”
But when I tried again to lift my hands, I couldn’t. And not because they wouldn’t move. No. Because leather straps bit into my wrists, binding me to the bed.
Heart leaping, I yanked. “Bastian?” This had to be why he’d worn that momentary look of regret. What had he done? What was he going to do? Was this retribution for my plan to poison him? My throat clenched. “What’s going on?”
From the doorway, he winced at my wide-eyed stare.
Was this how he’d looked at his father before he’d killed him? He was a bad ally. Not someone to be relied on. I had to remember all those hard-learned lessons.
Sitting up, I held my breath for the count of three in an attempt to control it. “What are you going to do to me?”
He flinched. “What? No, I’m not…” He shook his head, jerky rather than smooth as he returned, giving the bed a wide berth. “It’s nothing like that.” But another wince creased around his eyes. “You’ve been thrashing around in your sleep. We didn’t want you hurting anyone.”
He couldn’t lie—not directly. Still, I tugged on the bindings. I was trapped and the sweeping arch of the vaulted ceiling and something in the air told me this wasn’t Lunden. “Where are we?”
“Elfhame.” Arms folded, he leant against the cabinet and watched me like I might still run despite the straps. He didn’t come and unfasten them, either.
Alba. The fae realm. “How? Why?” But I knew and that knowledge unfolded, revealing more memories. “The poison. Asher said the healers here—”
Through the door swept a tall woman, her long, cream braids adding to the impression of height. “Awake at last.” The briefest smile flashed over her lips as she pulled on a pair of gloves made of some sort of fine material that sheened in the light.
“This is Elthea. She’s been looking after you.” There was no warmth in Bastian’s tone, just something stiff and almost formal.
“That’s right.” She stood over me, peering down. “You almost died.” She said it as though it was my fault for doing something foolish.
Which, I supposed was right. After all, I’d known what was in the glass when I’d gulped down the aconite-laced mead. Then again, I’d been fully aware of the consequences of not drinking it.
Bastian may have hurt me. He might even have manipulated the simmering competition for the queen’s hand. But I held with my decision: he didn’t deserve to die, and if I’d let him take the poison, it would’ve been a diplomatic disaster.
I gave Elthea a faint shrug as if to say, “Humans, eh?”
She checked me over, peering into my eyes, placing a piece of carved crystal over my heart, then pausing, head tilted as though listening. As she noted the results in a book, she asked questions: whether I felt dizzy, if I could feel and move my legs. Next, she made me track a little ball of fae light that moved slowly at first, then darted across the ceiling.
All the while, Bastian watched in silence.
Eventually Elthea nodded as if satisfied. She unbuckled the straps around my wrists and took a step back before glancing at him. “Have you told her?”
Another wince. He shook his head, and unease slithered through me.
Dread. That was the other feeling I’d seen warring its way across his face, and now I felt it too.
“Told me what?” Goosebumps crept over my bare arms as I swung my legs over the side of the bed. “What is it? What’s wrong?”
Elthea lifted her chin, closing her notebook. “I haven’t been able to fully remove the poison from your system. Its power seems to reset with nightfall.” Her lips pressed together. “Your condition is stable, but you need”—her pale eyes flicked back to Bastian who appeared frozen—“the antidote every day before sunset, or the poison will resume its effects as though you’ve just taken it.”
“Is there enough antidote? Asher said it took a week to—”