Page 71 of A Touch of Poison
I’d prided myself on giving Kat a choice, on being a thoughtful lover. Gods, how I’d prided myself. I was looking after her, reminding her of consent, where others had stamped all over it. And yet… I turned away when my thoughts reached that point, too cowardly to face the truth.
“Why do I feel like this isn’t the first time you’ve entertained someone up here?” She eyed me sidelong as she deposited her half of the apple core on the plate.
“I told you I was raised in the stables.”
“Hmm. I’d thought it an exaggeration. So, did you live right here?” She patted the makeshift bed.
“Not quite. There are servants quarters behind here for the stablehands. But I shared a room with my fathers, so this was where I came for privacy. I wonder…” I rummaged through the hay bundled against the rafters. “There.”
BM. Engraved into the timber.
I leant back so she could see.
Clutching her chest, she gave a mock gasp. “Is that…vandalism, Bastian? So you were a rebellious child?”
I grinned and counted the slats up from my initials. “I just wanted to mark something as mine. Now, let’s see if my treasure is still here.” The rough wood twisted up with a bit of prying, revealing a small alcove beneath the roof tiles. “Jackpot.”
“Treasure?” She crowded close, one hand resting on my knee as she peered at the small box I pulled out, her casual contact lighting my nerves.
Three dice—our kind with ten sides, not the odd human sort with only six—a few silver coins, and—
“My first dagger!” I drew the slender blade, scoffing at how the hilt got lost in my hand. “I wondered where it had gone.”
At Kat’s curious look, I offered it to her, handle-first.
She turned it over, frowning at the fine filigree of the moths decorating the crossguard. “It’s so small.”
“Hmm.” I shrugged, clinking the coins together. “So was I back then.”
As she weighed the dagger’s balance, I stifled a yawn. “You need some sleep.” She covered her mouth, fighting a yawn herself. “And so do I,” she added with a rueful smile.
We put away my treasure, though when she tried to return the dagger to the box, I closed her fingers around it. “You keep it. A knife needs to be used to stay sharp, and I couldn’t use it for much more than a toothpick now.”
She raised an eyebrow as if to call out my exaggeration, but she squeezed the wire-wrapped hilt and nodded. “Thank you. It’s a beautiful blade.” Her gaze fell away and she shifted. “I’ll give it back before I leave.”
Jaw tight, I swallowed my reaction. I didn’t want the dagger back, and I didn’t want her to leave. Instead, I busied myself clearing away the plate and returning the box to the hiding place. Maybe some other child would find it.
We settled into bed, and suddenly the hayloft seemed even smaller. She lay on her side, back to me, and I kept to my half of the bed as I dimmed the drifting lights.
“I can’t picture you hiding away up here,” she murmured into the darkness.
“I was a scrawny child.” Something about not seeing her made it easier to talk.
Who was I fooling? The fact it was Kat made it easier to talk—that had been half the battle in Albion. Wanting to share everything with her but knowing she was a spy. UnCavendish had chosen well.
“I was the smallest at school. The smallest in the practice yard.”
She made a soft sound of amusement. “Idefinitelycan’t picture a small Bastian.”
I fingered the blanket beneath us, trying to convince myself that was an acceptable replacement for touching her. “Believe me, I was. I had my arse handed to me many, many times by every other trainee. Especially the princes, Cyrus and Sepher. They would find me outside the training yard and…”
Cyrus would fist a hand in my hair while he punched me in the gut. Sepher hovered nearby, keeping watch. The younger prince stopped helping his brother after his gift developed. No doubt his tail put him on Cyrus’s list of victims
Dawn’s dirty secret—a prince who was a shapechanger. Not everyone knew, but when he’d lost the ability to hide his animalistic nature, they’d banished him to a ruined palace outside of the city. The Court of Monsters, he called it.
Last I’d heard—I had spies there, of course—he had captured a human assassin and made her his “pet.” I preferred not to linger on what that meant—not when I’d been on the receiving end of his attentions.
“Well”—I cleared my throat and the old memories—“I’m sure you know what bullies are like.”
