I could be what she called me: Bastian.
Alone with our teasing jokes, it felt like what she’d said at that party was true. I’m yours. There was no husband to interrupt us as I’d been about to claim what she’d said was mine—what she’d given freely.
Or almost freely.
Her words from a few days ago cut me as I sliced the cheese with my dagger. Was it really a choice…？ Now I was free of my father’s memories of Innesol, I couldn’t escape everything she’d said.
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. “I definitely can’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.”
A low grumble echoed from her, like she was annoyed for young me.
“But it made me work harder. I trained any moment I could. I learned the dirtiest tactics. I watched for my classmates’ weaknesses and noted their injuries. I didn’t hesitate to use them. The ends justified the means.”
She half looked over her shoulder, and I caught the smooth line of her wide cheekbones. “Like aiming for the crotch.”
“Exactly. And it paid off. Eventually, I started to win.”
“Good.” The viciousness of her voice cut through the dark like my Shadowblade.
I could’ve kissed her for it, licked the taste of it from her tongue, fucked her and begged to hear more of her simmering anger. I had to adjust my trousers around my hardening cock.
Down, I ordered it. Yes, I’d apologised, but words were cheap. I hadn’t earned her forgiveness—shown myself anywhere near worthy of it. Not yet.
The story was a welcome distraction. “Then one winter, after I turned sixteen, I shot up. I grew a foot in the space of a few months and bulked out. Everyone else’s gifts had already developed, but mine came then.”
“So fae aren’t born with powers.”
“Stars above, no. Can you imagine toddlers with the power to crush bones with a thought? Or babies who can wield the weather?”
The hay rustled as she shuddered. “The stuff of nightmares.”
“Not that teenagers are much better. I’m sure my poor fathers would call that a nightmare. They suddenly had a moody boy with unpredictable shadow magic on their hands. Meanwhile, my classmates started to pay attention to me, and not just because no one could beat me in the training guard. My hideaway became a different kind of retreat when I brought them up here.”
“Privacy,” Kat murmured.
“Until I was recruited into the Queensguard, the only privacy I could get.” I scoffed at the memory. “I’d wait in here until everyone had disappeared before frantically stripping whatever lover had come to sample Bastian Marwood, the traitor’s son. We fucked, they asked me to do all kinds of things, like they had a list in mind before they came up here, then they left me in the hay, their curiosity and lust sated.”