One night, Perry and Ella came for dinner. After several hints that she wanted to catch up with me without the far-too-attentive fae—hints that were ignored—Ella eventually raised her eyebrow at Bastian over her glass. “Is there a reason you won’t leave us alone with Kat? Something you don’t want her to say?”
He blinked and straightened, and inwardly I winced. “No, I just…” His expression tightened, shadowing his eyes. “You know she died. I’m merely—”
“Only for a moment.” I sat forward and wiggled my fingers. “See? Still alive.”
Bastian clenched his jaw and inclined his head, then left the room.
His silence cut deeper than his words. He was trying to care for me. Perhaps he hadn’t realised just how tightly he was holding on.
“Are you really all right?” Ella surveyed me.
“Still a little tired, but otherwise…” I spread my arms and smiled like I wasn’t haunted by nightmares where my heart stopped and left an echoing silence that I couldn’t escape. When I held out my glass for a top-up, she placed the bottle of fae wine out of reach. I gave Perry a beseeching look, but she shook her head. Traitors, the pair of them.
“And you two…” Ella arched an eyebrow at the door Bastian had disappeared through. “Have you resumed things again?”
I scowled and upturned my glass, catching the very last drop on my tongue for a disappointingly brief flash of fruity sharpness. “It’s… complicated.”
“Hmm.” Perry swirled her wine glass, its fullness mocking me. “But you said he apologised while you were away.”
“He did.” I frowned at the glass.
“And I’ve heard rings hold special meaning to fae.” Ella eyed the slight bulge in my glove where the enchanted ring sat on my finger.
“I don’t think it applies to all rings.” And even if it did, what was the point of possessing something if you weren’t going to claim it? Despite every lingering look and almost kiss, Bastian had left me thoroughly unclaimed.
“You’ve forgiven him, though.” Perry gave me a long look. “And he doesn’t seem angry at you about the marriage thing.”
I shrugged. “I apologised. And I think he’s forgiven me.”
“So, what’s the sticking point?”
How was I meant to explain that while I wanted him, something still felt wrong between us?
Ella narrowed her eyes. “Why are you sitting here with us rather than fucking him until you both die in a haze of exhausted bliss?”
I huffed a laugh and toyed with one of the fine seams of my glove, trying very hard not to imagine how much sex that would require.
Perry screwed up her face. “You want them to fuck themselves to death?”
“I don’t want it.” Ella spread her hands. “Though as deaths go, it’s definitely not the worst. I just… well, it would be better than whatever this is.” She gestured from me to the door. “Because the tension between you two is…” She exhaled, cheeks puffing out. “It’s heady. Every time I leave the room, I feel the need for a cold shower.”
After sighing and shaking her head, she turned back to me with a glint in her eye. “Have you tried seducing him?”
The conversation turned to well-meaning advice for doing just that before dissolving into some highly detailed descriptions of how to ensure a lover was well satisfied. I’d never sucked a cock, but after Ella’s explanation, it felt like I had a wealth of experience. Not that it seemed I was ever going to get to use this new knowledge.
But I noted how pink Perry’s cheeks went as she gave a private smile behind her glass.
Ella and I exchanged looks, and I knew she wondered the same thing I did. When was Perry going to tell us about her relationship with Asher?
Not tonight, it seemed. And I wasn’t going to push.
Many hours later, I went to hug them goodbye and remembered myself. Gloves firmly in place, I squeezed their shoulders and blew harmless kisses.
No hugs. No touch. Distance. As I waved them off at the door, I prayed my broad smile disguised my tears.
42
Kat
I needed a cure.
Desperately.
I couldn’t keep living at arm’s length from everyone. Perry had reassured me that she’d given the stable hands clear instructions on how to care for a sabrecat, since they were used to deer. Before my latest appointment, I’d gone to visit Vespera every day. But it wasn’t the same.
So, the next morning as Bastian sat by the sitting room window and read through reports, I looked up from selecting my next research book, an old, old volume of stories—the fae equivalent of faerie tales. “Has Elthea sent word of my next appointment?”
He blinked, stared at me, blinked some more. “What?”
“I thought she might’ve made some progress after the other day.”
The crawl of the manticore’s poison echoed through me and I shuddered. I’d scratched my chest raw, waking from nightmares where the poison was many, many times bigger, wrapping around me, consuming me rather than me it.
Still, however horrible Elthea’s methods, they were my only chance at a normal life. Gathering myself, I gave a firm nod. “I’m ready for another treatment.”
His mouth dropped open as he squinted. “Absolutely not. She killed you.”
“Only temporarily.”
“This time.” He tossed the report on the table. “What if your heart doesn’t restart next time? Not that there’s going to be one.”
I pursed my lips. Old Kat wouldn’t have dared risk it. Nothing that threatened survival. But… “Going around afraid to touch anyone is not living, Bastian.”
Sucking in a breath, he rose. His eyes were so wide, so fixed on me, I wasn’t sure he realised he moved. “It—it isn’t. But…” He shook his head. “She is out of control. And the fact you won’t tell me what else she’s done has me terrified—terrified that it’s even worse.” His chest rose and fell like he fought to contain himself.
I squeezed the book to disguise my discomfort. I hadn’t told him about the memories I’d traded out of my mind. He’d berate me for being foolish enough to let someone in my head. But Kaliban had heard my thoughts whether I liked it or not—letting him wipe them away wasn’t revealing anything new. But it had given me a chance to live—and sleep—without the intrusion of unwanted memories.
I touched my chest, wincing. Bastian had given me a salve and dressings to stop my clothes rubbing on the raw skin, but it was still sore.
I needed a cure, but I didn’t need the memories of how it came about.
Bastian was already trying to stop the former. If I told him about the latter, he’d try to stop that, too. Then I really would lose my damn mind.
“It’s fine.” I gritted my teeth. “Nothing I can’t handle.”
Liar. It was his voice in my mind.
“Katherine.” He raked his fingers through his hair. “I don’t know how to make you understand—”
“It’s my body.”
He stopped, mouth still open mid-sentence.
I raised my eyebrows. “You said it was always my choice.”
He exhaled, shoulders sinking. Giving in.