Chapter 43
ELARA
One bite was all it took to destroy their plans.
To her horror, the Souverains devoured her meal. Unlike at the Exposé, they delighted in her food. They would gorge themselves … to death. Faucher, Perrault, Tremblay, even Cormier tried all the elements.
Only Gabriel and Lafontaine measured their eating, tasting the smallest of morsels to avoid suspicion.
Elara was helpless. If she stopped them, everyone would believe she’d done this, that she’d tried to kill them. The same was true if she waited.
“Delicious, Rousseau,” Lafontaine murmured. “The magie is to die for.”
Elara’s stomach soured, and she had to pinch her sides to keep from retching.
When the Souverains had eaten their fill, they patted the corners of their lips and sighed contently.
“Absolutely marvelous.”
“Truly a wonder.”
“And the—”
Perrault was the first to fall.
A nightmarish gargling erupted from deep within her chest, and she clawed at her tight collar for air. Elara could only watch as her face turned red, then a sickening shade of purple.
Faucher patted her back as if she were choking.
“Can we get some water?” she asked. “Come now, you can’t—”
Faucher crumpled next. She crashed into the table, smearing Elara’s painting in panicked sweeps of her arms.
Perrault hit the cobblestones with a resounding thud and didn’t move again. A rivulet of blood trickled from where her head had struck. Over the next few seconds, her eyes emptied.
Dead.
Cormier barely released a gasp before he also collapsed in a heap. His nails scraped the cobblestones, breaking and bleeding as he tried to climb toward help as Elara’s mother had done years ago.
Faucher’s last action was to reach for Elara for mercy she couldn’t give. This wasn’t a gentle death. It was violent.
“I’m sorry,” Elara whispered as the woman died at her feet.
A single scream echoed between the buildings. Then there was only a second more of peace before chaos.
People tried to run. Children cried. And the police closed in.
All of it had gone so horribly wrong.
Now the Counseil would damn the Restes for a Rousseau’s actions again.
“We have to go!” Fernand grabbed her elbow.
“This way!” Nik pushed them through a line of guards.
“Stop them!” Lafontaine snarled.
The crowd blurred together as the police surged upon them, shouting commands. A shot cracked the night. Elara buried her head as more rang out, bullets pocking the ground at her boots. She prayed they were all for her, because if someone else got hurt tonight, it was her fault.
“Come on!” Fernand slammed a guard in the nose.
But he didn’t see the one who struck him with a baton.
“Fernand!”
Nik pulled her onward. “We can’t stop!”
“No!” She kicked and screamed as Fernand was pulled away.
Nik grabbed her face. “We can fight another day. We just have to—”
His voice broke off.
“Nik…”
His eyes were over her shoulder. Slowly, his palms lifted into the air.
She didn’t have time to feel fear or regret. Something sharp cracked her skull, and she went tumbling into the dark.