Page 248 of A Touch of Poison
I took it, and another fake Ascendant fell.
In the chaos, with shadows ghosting left and right and dozens of bodies packed into the open space before the throne room doors, I could half watch Bastian.
His fighting wasn’t like a dance—dances had too many pretty flourishes.
Here, every movement served a purpose.
He dropped to one knee, dodging a spear point, then pivoted on that knee inside the wielder’s guard. As he rose, he drove his dagger up beneath their ribs. The whole thing flowed with such precision, it seemed like just one movement.
But as the spear wielder fell, another fake Ascendant took their place.
So many. I fired and fired, taking out my fair share, but there was always another. Thankfully, his shadows kept skittering across the floor, bringing arrows back to me.
Steel flashing, Bastian blocked another strike as I nocked my next arrow. Behind him an Ascendant grabbed the fallen spear and readied it while another approached with daggers.
Fuck.
I pulled the bowstring taut, heart in my throat with the knowledge that if both parts of him were killed, he would die—really die.
Not while I still drew breath.
Jaw ratcheting tight, I squeezed my bow, which tingled in my grip.
Exhale. Release.
I was already nocking my next arrow before this one burst through the spear-woman’s hand. Her agonised cry rose over the battle clamour as the spear clattered to the floor.
I got the dagger wielder in the eye, and as the spear-woman turned and saw me, I readied my next arrow and aimed for her heart.
Shot after shot. It was like I couldn’t miss.
The air around me hummed, and I had to check poison wasn’t seeping from my pores.
No poison. Just my will to keep Bastian alive.
Breathless and buzzing, I fired and fired.
And then there were no more targets.
My shoulders slumped as the full burn of all that work hit my muscles. Despite Bastian’s shadows, only one arrow remained in my quiver.
I hurried over and clutched his arm to reassure myself he was alive.
He stroked my back like he needed that same reassurance. “Impressive shooting.”
“Veryimpressive.” The head of the Kingsguard, a fae with deep bronze hair and skin, surveyed me. “Do you need a job, by any chance? I’m sure the Serpent won’t mind you switching courts, and my numbers are suddenly diminished.” They pursed their lips at the bodies littering the floor.
“What happened?”
Their lips pressed together even tighter, and for a second I thought they wouldn’t reply. “Ascendants managed to separate us. His Majesty made it inside with the other half of the Kingsguard, followed by Prince Cyrus. Someone else slipped in before they closed the door—someone with red hair. I didn’t recognise them.”
“Fae or human?” I asked, a thin edge of dread cutting into me.
“Fae.”
Cut deepening, I gave a brief description of the fox-haired fae.
“That’s the one. Do you know them?”
