She made a soft sound, but said nothing.
“There’s beauty in stories, music, song, dance, people… in physical love, as well as emotional.” Even if it could devastate—I couldn’t deny its beauty. “In passion of all kinds.”
Her brow creased. “So, they aren’t tropical vegetables?”
I chuckled. “If we only grow vegetables, what will we look at while we dine? What will give us a reason to eat? Why bother living for tomorrow if not for things that feed our souls?”
The crease deepened as her gaze skipped from plant to plant.
“There is beauty in the world, Kat. And beauty has a value.”
She snorted and eyed me sidelong. “I was asked to spy on you because of my looks. Don’t you think I know it has value?”
Was that all she saw? What she had that someone would pay for?
“Not that kind of value. Not the kind that is used or paid for or coveted.” I splayed my fingers across her back, enjoying the way it made her draw a quick breath. “I mean, inherent value.”
She pursed her lips, making a faint sound that said she either didn’t understand or wasn’t convinced. Yet the hothouse plants still held her attention, so maybe deep down she knew.
“Beauty can keep us going. It gives us a reason to live and fight.” My chest tightened with the heavy truth of it. If not for being able to take pleasure in life, I would’ve given up long ago.
This was why I needed her to understand.
“It is a balm for the soul.” My voice came out rough and raw, and her gaze jerked to me.
Her eyes gleamed with turquoise and violet light. The closeness of her attention—the softness of it—almost silenced me.
“It is a balm for the soul, no matter how broken that soul may be. It is something. And when you have nothing left, even a scrap of something is important.”
She bit her lip and bowed her head.
We hadn’t raised her outburst, but the words surfaced now. It wasn’t worth saving. I would give her every scrap of everything if it made her realise that wasn’t true.
My shadows pooled around her, barely skimming my feet as we walked on in silence. I tried to keep my eyes on the path ahead, but they kept returning to her, gauging her reaction, whether she believed me. Her fingertips toyed with a shadow that reared up at her side. I wasn’t sure if she realised she was doing it.
“Why are you being nice to me? Why save my life? Bring me here? Have me live with you? Give me this?” She touched the bulge in her glove where my ring sat. “I spied on you. I lied to you. I tried to poison you, for fuck’s sake.”
The ghost of a laugh hummed in my throat. “You didn’t though, did you? You took it yourself like the wonderful idiot you are.”
Her teeth showed for a second before she bowed her head as if trying to hide her smile. She took a long breath before turning back, the smile gone. “I am sorry, you know. Truly. I just… I couldn’t escape him.”
My teeth gritted together as all the things she’d told me about unCavendish blasted through me at once, a horrible cacophony of every sentence in her report. Listening to her answers, I’d bitten my cheek until I’d drawn blood. If not for the grounding metallic taste, I’d have lost my fucking mind.
“You already apologised.” I stroked her back, letting my thumb run along the groove over her spine. It was meant to be reassuring, but I ate up the little shiver she gave in its wake. “And I cut you off. Quite rudely, in fact.” Letting her continue would’ve broken me, and I’d already been dangerously close to that. So I’d pushed her away. “That’s on me. You don’t owe me anything—apologies included.”
I still owed her, though. I’d said the words, yes. But actions mattered more, and this, tonight, was a small thing I could do—a step towards earning her forgiveness.
We walked on, the quiet between us soft and calm until she gave a sudden exhale as though reaching a decision. “I need to tell you something. About unCavendish. I’ve found out—”
“Not here.” I used a shadow to squeeze her hand in reassurance. “It isn’t secure and… and unless it’s an emergency, can I just be Bastian rather than a spymaster? Just for a little while.”
The look she gave me was tender enough to break me. I had to look away and busied myself shrugging off my jacket, in danger of wilting in the heat.
Aside from the low neckline, Kat’s gown covered her to elbows and ankles. Since entering the hothouse, a pink flush had crept across her skin, and now she fanned her face with one hand.
“You can take off your gloves, you know. I’m the only person here, and you can’t poison me.” Too late for that. She’d seeped under my skin months ago.
“The plants,” she muttered, frowning as she wrung her hands.
I blocked her path and stopped, forcing her to halt. “You’re going to melt.”
Her lips flattened.
I loved her determination. But sometimes, I cursed it.
Sighing, I pulled one of her hands free. “You can’t hurt me, Katherine.” I tugged the little finger of her glove, then the next and the next, until I could peel the light fabric from her skin.
It was ridiculous that doing this made the hairs on the back of my neck rise. I’d seen her naked, tasted her, explored her sweet slickness—taking off a glove shouldn’t feel this intimate. Yet goosebumps pricked her forearms, so I wasn’t alone in this feeling.
I rubbed the dark stain of her fingertips, and shuddered at the sting followed by the heady resonance of our magic meeting. Our first touch since sunset. I hadn’t accounted for that and the way it rushed through me, hot and intoxicating.
Kat’s nostrils flared as she took in heaving breaths. She watched, eyelids fluttering until our magic faded, leaving a deep ache in me.
I removed the other glove and caught her hands between mine. Eyes closing, she sagged, like my touch was a relief, even without our mingled magic.
Fuck. The way she responded… it had spelled my doom in Albion, and she was no less dangerous here.
I wasn’t supposed to be seducing her. This was meant to be a comfort.
“Come,” I rasped, and led her to a quiet corner where a glass-walled room stood separate. Vents kept this space cooler than the rest of the hothouse.
Her eyes widened at the tall spikes of deep purple flowers with black centres. “Aconite.”
I braced myself for the scent.
Death.
It made the instinctual part of me want to turn and run.
Weapons could kill us, yes. But iron and aconite? They killed slowly.
A clever joke for the gods to make it such a beautiful plant.
As long as I didn’t eat or touch it, I’d be fine. I planted my feet and nodded towards the hooded flowers. “Try touching it.”
“But I’ll…” Her eyes widened. “You think I won’t kill it because… My poison is its poison.” She examined the nearest plant, then took a deep breath.
Slowly, slowly, she reached out. Half an inch from the purple petals, she faltered, and I willed her on.
She straightened her back and crossed that gap.
Breath held, she waited. Glaring at the flowers, daring them to die, I waited.
Nothing happened.