Page 10 of A Touch of Poison
Swallowing, I shifted to the middle of the walkway. On the other side, a shimmering waterfall emerged from below the palace, feeding the river at the bottom of the gorge, and I fixed my attention on that.
When the tingle on my skin grew, I assumed it was my fear of falling over the edge, but as we approached the midpoint, the feeling peaked. It buzzed, like a whole swarm of bees, making me sway with the intensity, my brain foggy.
“Kat?” Bastian closed the distance between us like he might grab my arm.
Stopping, I warded him off and took a deep breath. With each second I acclimatised to the heavy feeling, less overwhelmed by it. “I’m fine, it’s just…” I managed to pull my back straight and continue on the path. “Is that magic I can feel?”
He gave me another long look, sticking close. “The river is enchanted to protect the palace. It feels… thick and humming.”
“Like bees.”
He gave a low grunt. “Something like that, but… angrier. Wasps.”
Frowning, I glanced back along the bridge as we stepped off its stone surface. The hum was intense but not angry.
But as we entered the palace grounds, surrounded by formal gardens, with a huge entrance ahead and a stable block to the right, I found myself walking alongside a stone-faced version of Bastian. One who didn’t invite argument. My mind was still swimming from the magic, so I kept my head down, ignoring the questioning looks that followed us as he led me to a side entrance.
So manyquestioning looks. They crawled over my skin, and I hugged myself tighter. This much attention wasn’t safe. Especially not in a place where I didn’t understand the rules.
My body was still recovering, a wave of vertigo sweeping through me at one point. I waved off Bastian’s help and pushed myself on.
At last, we reached a set of double doors that Bastian unlocked with magic. When we entered, the bergamot and cedar scent told me they were his rooms before I even lifted my head and took in the formal antechamber.
As the doors closed, the stone in his expression softened the barest touch, becoming sandstone rather than granite. He took off his jacket and hung it, then half turned to me. “Are you…?” He finished the question by sweeping his gaze over me.
I lifted my chin. I didn’t need looking after like a child, and I didn’t need him hovering this close like he was going to take my arm. “I’m not about to keel over.”
Nodding to himself, he stalked ahead into a grand sitting room. It made the space he’d been given in Riverton Palace seem not just small butgaudyin comparison.
Decorated in grey, black, and a dark teal like the deep sea on a summer’s day, the large space somehow managed to feel enclosed—safe, even. Add a few gilded accents, like the shooting star design of the fireplace and the celestial map covering the ceiling, and it was both tasteful and luxurious.
Voice clipped, he explained where the main bathroom was and his bedroom. A locked door led to his workroom, but he said his offices were elsewhere in the palace, so I wasn’t sure exactly what kind of work it was for.
Maybe for torturing humans who spied on him.
He herded me to the door opposite his bedroom. “And this is yours.”
I raised my eyebrows at the fact I was staying in his suite, but realised before I asked—if he was my antidote, I needed to stay close.
When he leant past me and opened the door, it unleashed a waft of fresh paint smell. The walls were a pale, silvery grey, a little lighter than his eyes, covered with two huge paintings: one of the night sky with a crescent moon and one showing the sunset with a single bright star glinting. The large bed was draped with violet silk the same colour as one of my favourite gowns. A vase of white roses sat on a round table before the fireplace.
“And your bathroom is through there.”
“My own—?”
When I turned, the intensity of his attention stole my words. For a second, it was as though he hadn’t spent most of the time looking everywhere but at me. It was as though I was the only thing he’d ever seen.
Then it was over as he glanced around the room. “Does it meet with your approval?”
He had to know it did. From the thick carpet underfoot to the rich wood of the furniture and the clustered fae lights overhead—this was one of the most exquisite spaces I’d ever set foot in. And somehow it was mine, for a while at least. “It’s beautiful.”
With a curt nod, he backed away to the door. “Well. I’m sure you must be hungry. I’ll have someone bring you lunch—alatelunch.” As he paused in the doorway, the faintest smile flickered over his lips. “They make some excellent cake in the kitchens.”
I think I smiled back. Because it felt like a private joke. Like old times. Like we could pick and choose what had and hadn’t happened in the past, and for this short while we were choosing only the best moments and none of the bad.
The seconds drew on, marked by the ticking clock on the mantelpiece.
Then the spell broke.
