Page 176 of A Touch of Poison
“I couldn’t get to her,” Sura went on. “But from my hiding place, I could follow its trajectory back to a figure on the royal balcony. A figure I knew well, even in the rain and dark, one whose black arrows had white fletchings. Our mother. As lightning cracked the sky, I watched her fire the third arrow. The one that stopped her.”
Goosebumps chased over my skin as another tear slid down her cheek.
“I turned just in time to see her topple off the bridge.” She wiped away the tear and frowned like she was angry it had escaped. “Whatever story the queen told you, understand thatsheis the one who killed my sister. No one else.”
I sank back in my chair and clutched my head, which buzzed with two radically different versions of the story. The implications if this was true…
“You believe me, don’t you?” She raised her eyebrows. “You know I can’t lie.”
“With fae it’s hard to know what to believe. You speak of vague words, but I note you never said that hedidn’trape your sister.”
The way she clenched her jaw and swallowed made my own throat thick with grief. It wasn’t a conversation I would ever wish to have about my own sister, and I felt sick to ask, but… if she was manipulating me and the truth as much as her mother had, I needed to know.
Eventually, she shook her head. “That unseelie man didn’t harm my sister in any way, including assaulting her. He loved her and she loved him. When she fell, he tried to throw himself into the river after her, but of course, thanks to Mother’s enchantment, he couldn’t. Does that satisfy you?”
I drained my glass, trying to wash away my empathy. Wrong, perhaps, but practical.
“Why did you tell me all that? When your mother told me her version, she had her own agenda for doing so. What’s yours?”
“My mother is not what Bastian believes her to be. That story is the best illustration I have. She killed her own daughter to ensure she couldn’t escape her control or bring an unseelie child into the world as her heir.Her own daughter.” The intensity of her gaze was enough to silence me for long moments. “Why do you think I tried to take the throne? If she can do that, she isn’t fit to hold so many lives in the palm of her hand.”
“Why wait so long to stage your coup? That had to be almost twenty years later?”
Her jaw twitched. “I was pregnant. With my daughter on the way, I knew I could secure the Moon Throne with myself and an heir. And… although she’s not unseelie, I couldn’t risk the queen deciding she wasn’t good enough for the line of succession.”
Everything about this felt unsafe. I had a feeling the queen would consider merely knowing this story some form of treason.
“Did you tell Bastian?”
She huffed, looking away. “No. He isn’t ready to hear it. He’d find some way to disbelieve me. Accuse me of using some spell or illusion that showed me lying to him.” She rolled her eyes. “Anything, however unlikely, to make it so his queen is what he believes.”
My throat tightened. I’d picked up on things about the queen that had made me uncomfortable, but this story? It was a lot to take in, and I wasn’t even as invested in the Night Queen as Bastian was.
He needed her to be this great queen, because if she wasn’t, what had he spent all these years loyal to? What had he killed his father for?
I rubbed my throat, though my necklace was far from it. “If you want me to convince him to betray the queen, I’m afraid this has been a wasted afternoon.” That had to be what she was driving towards.
She gave a stiff smile and poured herself another glass of wine. “That’s not why I brought you here, but I understand. I hear you have a sister of your own—a queen, no less. Tell me about her.”
I delayed answering by taking a long sip of water, but I couldn’t see any danger in giving her a few of the public details about Avice. She seemed satisfied with that and asked me a few questions about her adventures and gift, but nothing that seemed probing. No doubt she wanted to remind me of my sister while the tragedy of hers was still fresh in my mind.
It was hours before she dismissed me, and I left in shackles, thankful for a lifetime of hiding my feelings. I would certainly need it next time I faced the Night Queen.
Assuming I lived that long.
67
Kat
When I returned to our room, I found Bastian by the windows, looking out over the gardens. Perhaps it was the angle of his head or the way he leant against the window frame, but I knew he was thinking about escape. Assessing the route, watching for guards, weighing the risk.
The man who’d given so much of himself for others—his queen, his court, me.
The man who carried someone else’s traumatic memories and all the guilt that went with them.
The man who knelt for no one, but had for me.
It hit me with all the force that arrow had, this time not missing my heart.
