Page 38 of A Pact of Blood

Like convincing my gift for concocting cures that I’d need to put a man into a paralytic fit to heal him, after which it was only a matter of increasing the concentration.

A rough chuckle escapes Bastien. “You knew you’d go that far before you ever left Accasy.”

It isn’t a question. I think he believes me now.

I answer him all the same. “Everything was prepared well in advance.”

“You never gave any sign of your full intentions.”

“And you know that I can be very determined about what I reveal or don’t.”

Bastien swipes his hand past his mouth in a jerky motion. “It was stupid of me to forget that. To stake all our lives on a situation I so hugely misjudged—even more than with Pavel— Hope can be a dangerous thing, can’t it? But obviously you have your own sense of duty. I suppose seeing us killed would have been an acceptable sacrifice to the greater good.”

The anguish in his voice sends a lance of guilt through my heart. I have to hold my gaze on the fountain through sheer force of will. “I didn’t think I was putting you in danger. I never would have wanted to. I assumed you’d leave on your own, that no one would have a chance to catch on.”

“Oh.” Bastien’s silence stretches too long for comfort. “It wasn’t worth everything we’d be giving up if we left without you. Although maybe that’s where I was the most stupid. I thought?—”

He falters again, and this time he doesn’t go on.

I can’t leave him sounding so miserable. “What?”

“You had everything a woman could want between Lorenzo and Raul. You only needed me because I’m the one who calls most of the shots. I let the pretense go to my head—I let my heart override my mind… Stupid.”

My throat constricts. He can’t really think what he seems to be saying, can he? “Bastien, it wasn’t a pretense with you any more than the others. I?—”

He pushes to his feet abruptly, cutting me off. “You don’t need to keep pretending. It’s less painful if you don’t.”

He strides off in the opposite direction toward a cluster of tall hedges even farther from the rest of the court.

A vise seems to have clamped around my entire torso. To have caused him that much pain already, over an assumption that isn’t even true?—

I only manage to hold myself back for a couple of heartbeats before I’m swiveling on my feet. They carry me toward the hedges at the most leisurely pace I can restrain them to.

Bastien must hear me approaching. As I veer around the first of the hedges, he spins where he’s stopped deeper in the shadows.

His voice drops to a harsh whisper. “What are you?—?”

I only have a matter of seconds before my guards will follow closely enough to observe me. I propel myself across the last few steps toward him, grasp the front of his shirt, and kiss him with everything I have in me.

Bastien’s breath hitches, and then he’s kissing me back as if I’m the air he needs. I give myself over to the heated passion of our collision for one fleeting moment before I yank myself back.

Footsteps rasp beyond the hedge. Bastien’s eyes go wide. “You could have gotten yourself murdered.”

My fingers clench, the feel of his shirt lingering on them. “Hearing you talk like that makes me feel as if I’ve already died. I consider myself blessed that you were willing to take the chances you have for me, and I’m going to do everything in my power to make the best of this wretched situation for you as well as me… even if I don’t have much power yet.”

I don’t dare dally among the hedges any longer. I walk past him and weave on between the sculpted shrubs, back toward the dancers.

Coming up on the edge of the lawn, I pause to gather myself. When I wet my lips, they tingle from the kiss.

No one hurls any accusations. I got away with that brief lapse.

I just wish I didn’t feel so sick about refocusing my loyalties on the man who least deserves them.

After a couple of minutes, Bastien emerges amid the garden beds. He doesn’t look my way, but there’s something easier about his stance that melts a little of the ache inside me.

Marclinus saunters over to me with his mouth set in a smirk. I set the glass I’ve been carrying around with me down on the nearest planter, expecting that he’s coming to claim another dance.

Instead, he crooks his finger at me and tilts his head toward the palace. “Come with me, wife. There’s a matter I’d like to discuss with you and my foster brothers.”

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