“My husband, the man you all believed had a right to me, did this. And he did it because he thought that exact thing. He thought a contract drawn up by him and my father over a decade ago meant he had a right to me.” Her chest heaved as she looked out over the crowd.
Ducking, she scooped a handful of water from the fountain and used it to clean her face. As she straightened, she pointed at the cut on her lip. “This is where he hit me.” With a wince, she touched the back of her head. “This is where he slammed me into the floor.” She splayed her fingers over her stomach. “I have bruises here where he kicked me because he thought I was carrying another man’s child and couldn’t stand the thought of someone else sullying his property.”
Bile flooded my mouth, and my hands fisted so tightly my knuckles ached.
If that man wasn’t already dead, I’d rip him apart. Maybe I still would. There wouldn’t be enough of him left to bury.
My shadows curled around me, demanding it, and people nearby edged away.
After all she’d been through, she could so easily be a wreck curled up in a corner. I’d have cared for her if she was.
And yet she stood here, shoulders square, chin raised.
“He was going to kill me. I know that, because he told me while he had his hands around my neck.”
Murmurs rippled out across the room. This kind of violence wasn’t tolerated in Elfhame—it certainly wasn’t allowed under the law like in Albion.
“And yet this man?” Her voice rose as she gestured to me. “The one I choose to be with. The one who showed me I had a fucking choice. He’s the man you call oathbreaker, while you let my husband enter my rooms and try to kill me.”
There was no sound but the fountain and Kat’s words ringing to every corner of the room. The folk around us frowned, and a few glanced at me, then looked aside when they met my eye.
“You and your laws forced my hand tonight. When I was lying there with my husband’s hands around my throat, moments from death, I took his life. And in doing so, I claimed mine.”
My chest filled with her ferocity, and if not for the crowd, I’d have knelt at her feet then and there.
She surveyed them, letting her words sink in. This close, I spotted the moment she gave a short gasp.
When I followed her line of sight, I spotted a head of red hair. Her uncle.
Good gods, I hoped she would release me from my promise not to kill him. Technically, he was a foreign dignitary, yet that wasn’t enough to offset what he’d done to Kat as a fucking child or the fact he was responsible for Robin’s arrival in Elfhame.
But instead of falling quiet, she drew a long breath and gave her audience a fierce frown. “Remember this next time you cling to a contract long after it should’ve been broken.”
With a nod, she held out her hand, and I helped her down.
“You are fucking incredible,” I murmured against her hair.
She grunted and leant more heavily on me than she had before. “It won’t make any difference, not when your laws… your central belief structure… they all need to change and see some nuance in contracts. But I couldn’t not say it.”
“I’m not so sure. These things begin with one voice.”
I wasn’t sure if she heard me as she swayed on her feet. I knew the tired look glazing her eyes—the aftermath of adrenaline.
“Come on, let’s get you healed.”
When we turned, Faolán blocked our path. “Kat.” He started closer, and a growl rumbled from me, stopping him short.
I didn’t intend to make a sound, but I’d readied myself for one fight tonight, and my adrenaline hadn’t faded. Somehow, I held myself still and bit my tongue.
“Are you all right? Let me help—”
“Not now.” At his flinch, she huffed. “You know me, Faolán, and yet you still placed that contract above my wishes.”
He stood there, a giant fae who could turn into a massive wolf silenced by a five-foot-three human.
“Enough.” Half holding her up, I steered around him and tried to ignore his hurt look, even though it pierced me.
All those years ago, I’d saved him from an angry mob who’d decided their village didn’t allow shapechangers. I’d never for an instant regretted that decision—it had brought him into my life as my closest friend—but I wished he understood the parallels between that situation and this one. The foolishness of old beliefs.
He took a step after us. “But the law—”
Leaning into me, Kat turned. “Just because something is legal, doesn’t make it right.”
I slid an arm around Kat’s waist and glanced back.
Faolán stood, head bowed, eyebrows knotted together, gaze skimming the floor like he might find answers there.
77
Kat
My trail through the city to the Hall of Healing left more ripples of shock. Whispers from the grand hall followed with news of my speech.
Elthea admonished me as she cut the iron ring off my swollen finger. “There’s a reason I didn’t give you iron.” She said it with such fury, I almost thought she cared. The healing took energy, she explained, but that once I’d recovered, she had a cure ready for my poison. Dazed, I barely registered the comment as she healed all my injuries and catalogued them, including the bruises on my neck.
When the city guard arrived and saw her notes, they had to accept my story. Self-defence. No need to arrest me. No charges for murder. I could’ve collapsed with the mingled exhaustion and relief.
By the time we returned to our rooms, the door had been fixed, the floor cleaned, and there was no sign of Robin’s body. It was like it had never happened, except for the blood staining my clothes, matting my hair, stuck under my nails. Bastian ran me a bath and washed my hair—all I could do was lie there and let him.
I slept long and deep that night, but the ripples kept spreading. News would reach Albion soon enough. So the next day, I wrote to the queen and Morag, hoping to get ahead of it and stake my claim on the estate. Bastian sent his own letter, corroborating my story and explaining that some misfortune had befallen Robin’s body and it wasn’t available for burial （I didn’t ask, but I had suspicions）。 He signed it as the Night Queen’s Shadow, lending that weight to my innocence and my claim.
A couple of days and several visits from my friends later, I brushed my hair at Bastian’s dressing table as I got ready to face the world once more. I still wasn’t sure if that speech was the right decision. It had felt right at the time—righteous, even. But part of me had cringed small and tight when I’d spotted Uncle Rufus in the crowd.
I had been anything but silent and dutiful that night.
“You don’t have to do this, you know.” Bastian’s hands cupped my shoulders and he nodded to me in the mirror. “I saw that little grimace.”
I touched my cheek. I was getting too comfortable around him, forgetting to control my reactions as well as my magic.
My arm was mostly fine, just a little achey. Elthea had told me that would fade after a week or two. She’d found a couple of cracked ribs and some internal bleeding, but they too were healed.
Certainly no reason to miss this meeting.
I smiled at Bastian in the mirror and dipped a kiss to his hand. “The bride-to-be specifically requested me—I’m not about to turn down her offer.”