Page 26 of A Touch of Poison
I was about to tell him not to worry, to go back and get some rest, when we stepped out onto a terrace overlooking a practice yard. But the chill of the early morning air wasn’t what cut off my words before they began.
Beyond the dummies and targets and other low buildings of the palace was Tenebris.
If I’d thought Luminis beautiful, then Tenebris was stunning.
Dark, glittering stone soared in the same graceful spires, though the golden rooftops seemed sharper somehow. Polished black basalt caught the dim pre-dawn light, contrasting with the cheerful coral pink glow spilling from hundreds of windows. I hadn’t worked out why fae fires were pink, save that it was because of some magical property, but now its strangeness seemed perfect against what would’ve been a sombre city at night.
And it wasn’t a dark city. Not at all.
As well as the light spilling from homes, fae lights of a dozen pale colours drifted through the streets. The plants I’d seen climbing up buildings and growing from the rock glowed green and violet.
Around me, the palace rose, darkly glorious. Where the palace in Luminis had flashed with the blue-gold-green of pale moonstone, Tenebris’s iridescence was the deep jewel of a magpie’s tail feathers. I touched my chest—the stone of my potion bottle matched perfectly.
I’d been so absorbed in my own misery, I hadn’t even thought to look out the window and see the city at night. I’d missed all this.
“The first time seeing Tenebris tends to have this effect.” Bastian’s low voice cut through my awe, and it was only then I realised I’d stopped and my mouth was hanging open.
“It’s… incredible.”
He shot me a small smile. “I’m glad my city meets with your approval. I may be biased, but I’m inclined to agree.” He set off towards the steps leading down into the practice yard. “Shall we?”
I followed, trying not to stare at the city and palace so much that I fell down the entire flight of steps.
As we walked through the yard, Bastian pointed at the practice dummies. “If you don’t have a clear shot to the head, I suggest aiming for the crotch.”
I arched an eyebrow. “Isn’t that an even smaller target?”
His eyes glittered as he smirked. “Yes. But if a man’s in fear of losing his prize jewels, it’s an almighty motivation to turn and run.”
“Vicious.” I scoffed. “I wouldn’t expect to receive that advice from a man.”
He gave me a sidelong glance, his amusement fading. “Whatever it takes to keep you safe, Katherine.”
The look hit me at the same time as the realisation. The old Bastian had woken up this morning, rather than the one who was all detached business. A wild and foolish flutter ran through my insides. I swallowed it down and shrugged. “No concerns about honour?”
He made a dismissive sound in his throat. “Honour is a pretty idea. Let me know how relying on it to keep you alive goes.”
I found myself smiling up at him. Perhaps fae didn’t hold with the same ideas humans had about honour and women’s weapons and all that nonsense.
We reached a firing range and I scanned the area, grateful for the distraction. Because the more I looked at him, the less I remembered important things like betrayal and how not to grin like a fucking moron. “So what am I going to be firing to keep myself safe? Do you have my pistol?”
“A pistol is great, but it still can’t be loaded as quickly as one of these.” From a tall locker, he produced a bow. “And what we don’t tend to advertise to humans is that our bows are just as dangerous as our pistols.” His grin was vicious and I’d have said it was as dangerous as either weapon. He rolled his eyes. “For some reason your people prefer guns.”
I wasn’t sure if I scowled at him out of a sense of defensiveness for my fellow humans or because I didn’t feel like I belonged with them at all. “Perhaps it’s because anyone can fire a gun.”
“I’m not sure that’s a good thing.”
“Aren’t you? Said like a man who has the strength to draw a bow with ease.”
Bastian’s face scrunched up. Combined with his tiredness, his confusion was almost… cute.
I blamed that for my tone softening. “You might feel differently if you were a woman with little upper body strength. Then you’d see the value of a weapon where you only need to pull the trigger.”
His eyebrows rose slowly as he nodded. “I hadn’t considered that before. Well, you’ll be glad to hear our bows aren’t as hard to draw as yours.” He touched the bow’s tip and said, “Tennacht.” With a faint creak, the bowstring tightened. He held out the elegantly arched weapon. “Try it.”
He was probably basing his assumption on a fae woman’s strength, which would be far greater than mine. Not bothering to grip it properly, I gave an experimental pull on the string.
The bow flexed. It still gave some resistance—a reassuring kind of feedback—but drew to full extension without much effort at all.
