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

So I screwed my eyes shut and turned as he closed the door. Arms folded, he raised his eyebrows. “‘The security of the realm’—is that how you describe what you did to your father?”

His hurt hurt me, as painful as the slice that father had delivered across my chest and belly—an injury I’d been lucky to survive.

“I’m not going to get into another cyclical conversation with you, Athair.”

His jaw flexed and I thought he was going to tell me not to call him that, but his gaze flicked over to the orrery on the mantelpiece. “A minute and a half.”

Had he looked this cold as he’d led those families to the Horrors in Innesol? Or had his dismay shown? He’d always been the one to express his emotions, where Baba hid everything behind a stoic mask.

Athair’s face dropped. “Innesol. You went there. You… you saw.” Back bowing as if all his vitriol turned inward, he spun on his heel, and once again, his pain wounded me.

“You were in an impossible situation with only terrible choices.” I wasn’t sure if I was telling him that or myself. “It meant you survived long enough for you and Baba to—”

“Don’t lecture me on terrible choices, Bastian. I could’ve chosen to die rather than…” He shook his head. “Rather than doing what I did. That is always an option.”

One I’d considered for a moment during my battle with Baba—for as long as it had taken him to cut me from collarbone to bellybutton and step back, eyes wide at the blood spilling from me.

“Die and give up any power you have to affect the world for better or worse, you mean?”

“Exactly,” Athair rasped. “Some people shouldn’t have that power.” He turned and I understood what he was thinking.

I shouldn’t have that power.

If I didn’t, Baba would still be alive.

His expression hardened. “What did you come here for?”

“I need a favour.”

He scoffed, raising one eyebrow. “You have fifteen seconds before I tell you to fuck off.”

“The attack.” That would be enough to tell him how important this was—not to me, but to Elfhame. “I have one of the people responsible. He won’t talk. But you could scrape his mind, find out where their base is, how many there are, what they really want.” His gift was a rare one—there was no one else in the city who could do this.

His lip curled. “You might be willing to do anything for your queen, but I am not. I don’t toy with people’s minds without their consent. Not anymore.”

“But—”

“No.” His voice boomed in my head as well as around the room, silencing my arguments. “You’ll have to find someone else to do your dirty work.” He opened the door and gestured out into the night. “Now, fuck off.”





55





Bastian





Folk swept the streets and set to work on repairs while low laments drifted through the crisp night air. They nodded as I passed, and some placed a hand on their heart as they did.

Even though I wasn’t deserving, I touched my brow in acknowledgement.

I still wore my bloodied and acid-pitted armour. There was a good chance it was about to get messier, too.

My jaw tightened the closer I got to the Hall of Healing, and when I entered and spotted Elthea, my blood boiled.

“He’ll live.” She indicated a door at the far end of the wide entrance hall—one I’d never entered before.

I arched an eyebrow at her as she fell into step beside me. “No favours this time?”

“This isn’t for you. It’s for Elfhame.”

The sun had set now, but it had still been high when Orpha brought the man in—Elthea was under no obligation to help. Useful to know she would forego a favour for the realm’s sake.

“Who’s with him?”

“No one, currently. I was just in there making sure he was… comfortable.”

“Good.” I went to open the door, but she hung back. “Not joining me?”

Her usual calm stiffened—not quite a change in expression, but almost. “I’d rather not. There’s nothing for me to learn about his health from your… activities.”

My teeth ground behind my smile. “Ah, so you like torturing human patients, but when the subject is a traitor responsible for dozens of deaths, suddenly you can’t stomach it. Noted.”

She backed off a step, perhaps mindful of the fact we were past sunset. Dusk was ascendant now and I could order her to accompany me. For a second I was tempted, but this would be easier without any interference, so I dismissed her and entered.

Another bright space, like her treatment room, but this one had a chair at its centre and a slumped figure strapped to it. Blood and dirt caked the Ascendant’s dark hair and clothes. It had once been a smart uniform but from the tattered hems and tears on the knees, it looked as though he’d been dragged across the ground for miles. Maybe that was how Orpha had brought him here.

This was one of the mechanised chairs that allowed healers to tilt the patient back or straighten their legs or arms for treatment. That could be useful for my purposes.

This had gone beyond vandalism and theft. Civilians had died. I needed to know who was behind this and put a stop to Hydra Ascendant once and for all. No matter my queen’s wishes that I focus on the Circle of Ash. No matter the cost. Even if my soul and this man were the ones paying.

Orpha had said he was awake, but he looked unconscious now. It was only once the door clicked shut that he lifted his head. His eyes went wide when they landed on me, and he pressed back in the chair like he could escape.

“Good.” I smiled as I approached, letting my shadows unfurl across the floor. “You know who I am. That will make this easier.”

His nostrils flared as he watched me, but he pressed his lips together. Whatever Orpha had done to him, Elthea had healed now with no sign except for the blood. Some crusted on his lip and beneath his nose.

Circling, I lifted his chin with a shadow. He tried to turn his head to keep me in sight, but I held him in place.

Let fear rule him. The anticipation of pain sharpened the mind. With any luck, he’d understand he had two options: speech or silence. Both ended in death, but one would be much, much more painful.

I ignored the tightness of my stomach at the thought. My discomfort was not important. My country was.

“I hear you were moving wards.” I cleared blood from under a fingernail as I circled back into his view. “Using them to channel Horrors here. Why?”

He pulled against my shadow, trying to dip his chin, and I pulled away suddenly, making him gasp.

“It was an order.” I spread my hands. “I understand. Sometimes we must do things we don’t like. I’m sure you didn’t want to hurt anyone in Tenebris.”

He hunched over, shoulders curling in.

His hair suggested he was originally from a family aligned with Dusk, and his shame when I referenced our city supported that. The dirt made it impossible to tell what colour his uniform had once been, but it looked dark enough that I’d guess it was one of our colours. A torn insignia of the three-headed monster covered his heart.

So the Ascendants were Dusk rebels. And, what? They wanted to replace the queen with one of their own?

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