The next day I woke late, finding Bastian in the chair by my bed. The only sign he’d moved was that his hair was damp and he wore a fresh outfit—shirt and trousers in charcoal grey.
As I bathed and dressed, body sluggish, he brought breakfast to my room, pushing the vase to one side. Today it contained a fresh bouquet of white roses, petals edged with fresh green. Their soft scent drifted through the room alongside the array of pastries he set out.
“Dessert for breakfast?” I eyed the options—puff pastry folded with chocolate and hazelnut, lemon tarts made with flaky pastry, little egg custards, almond and raspberry frangipane, slices of apple in a pastry nest topped with apricot jam, and a bowl of fruit to one side. I didn’t know where to start, but my mouth watered.
He shrugged and poured coffee for us both. “The kitchens must’ve been baking today.”
Something about the way he said it—too light, too casual—made me give him a sidelong look. “They just happened to be baking a batch of various delicious pastries? Total coincidence.”
His mouth twisted to one side. “You know I can’t say yes to that. Fine. I requested them so you’d have something pleasant to wake up to. Happy?”
I grinned as I selected an almond and raspberry frangipane. “Ecstatic.” I didn’t know whether I was more pleased by the pastries or the fact I got to have breakfast with the real Bastian rather than his business fa?ade. Gods knew how he felt about me—he did sweet things like this, but I still caught signs of guilt about the past or over my marriage. But it felt good to see him rather than his mask.
I ate more than I needed, using each mouthful to wipe from my mouth and throat the sensation of the manticore venom.
After breakfast, when I stretched to try and give the obscene amount of pastries and one lone apple space to move down my stomach, he watched me, lips pursed. Did even he think I’d eaten too much?
He frowned. “You look like you’re gearing up for something.”
“The start of my day?”
“I was hoping you might rest.”
“That sounds an awful lot like sitting here bored.” Which would give me time to think about the appointment. At least if I went out, I could see Kaliban.
Shoulders sinking, he sighed. “I should’ve known you’d say that. How about I bring the work to you?”
I gave him a mutinous look and opened my mouth to argue.
“I’ll give you space in my workroom.”
I clamped my mouth shut. “Access to Bastian’s mysterious workroom. Now that’s an offer I can’t refuse.”
The corner of his eye tensed, like he was trying not to wince, but he led me into the hall and unlocked one of the few rooms in our suite that I hadn’t yet seen.
Light streamed through the floor-to-ceiling windows, hitting drifting motes of dust and…
And a fucking mess.
A grandfather clock missing its pendulum. Cracked vases and bowls. A teapot with no spout. Canvases stacked against the wall, their images jarred by rips. Various blades without hilts and hilts with no weapons. Glass-fronted cabinets filled with broken mechanisms and cogs. Stacks of books so tattered, I feared touching them would make the whole pile crumble to unreadable fragments.
Clearing his throat, Bastian brushed past me and gathered assorted tools and a pair of goggles from the large central table. It had been so piled high with stuff I hadn’t even realised it was a separate surface from the side boards and shelves around it.
On the table sat a collection of cogs and gems and the jumbled insides of a broken orrery. The subtle hum of magic whispered over my skin.
“This is…”
As he cleared the table, Bastian’s shoulders hunched, like he was bracing himself.
“Not what I expected from your workroom.” I gave the space another inspection. It was hard to tell how large it was with so much clutter.
He made a soft sound and scooped the broken orrery onto a velvet-lined tray.
I craned over his arm as he carried it away. “Are you… fixing that?”
“Trying to,” he muttered.
The fragments of vase I’d found in his suite in Riverton Palace. My fence’s off-hand comment about him buying broken things from her. “You’re fixing it all, aren’t you?”
Brow low, mouth tight, he turned and glanced over the collection. He wrinkled his nose and sent a shadow to swipe dust off the grandfather clock’s face. “Trying to. But there are more broken things than I can keep up with.”
“Has it crossed your mind that they aren’t all your responsibility?”
He ignored my comment, still focused on the assembled items. “Besides, I don’t have time. Not for hobbies and tinkering, anyway.”
I bit back a laugh—not at him, but of disbelief. “Bastian Marwood’s hobby is collecting broken things and trying to fix them.”
He picked up a piece of vase and peered at it. “Just seems a shame to see it all thrown away. So when I find it, I rescue it.” He scoffed and screwed his eyes shut, dropping the pottery shard back in the pile. “That sounds ridiculous, doesn’t it?”
“No.” I touched his back. “It’s… somewhat ambitious—over-ambitious, even. Kind of sweet. But not ridiculous.”
He gave me a long look, as though waiting for me to add something. When I didn’t, he nodded with a soft sound and ushered me to a chair he’d uncovered.
I could feel his discomfort. He didn’t let other people in here, and I wasn’t about to mock him for such a noble pursuit… even if it was doomed.
So when he brought me a stack of books and a pot of tea, I smiled and set to work.
The next few days went much the same. I lived in this contradiction, trapped between exhaustion and nightmares about my last appointment. I wanted to eat everything, like my body needed the energy, but certain food textures reminded me of the appointment, forcing me to leave the meal uneaten. Bastian hovered nearby, only letting me out of his sight to sleep, wash, and go to the toilet. Thank the gods for that, at least.
It felt like the time I’d spent in his rooms in Lunden, but I wasn’t in nearly such a bad place. Maybe he feared I might fall into that pit. At least I could function and spent my time reading through books and scrolls, searching for reference to the Circle of Ash. (Not the most catchy name, but who was I to question ancient fae spellcrafters?)
I tried to persuade Bastian to go back to work. Instead, he brought his work to our rooms, and invited Rose and Faolán for dinner, Ella for lunch, Perry for a late breakfast. Our suite went from a private space to one for entertainment, and having visitors made the place feel homely. Bastian didn’t even comment when I added little touches like potted plants and cushions on the settee.