Beatriz
Beatriz, Pasquale, Ambrose, and Gisella reach the safe house nearly four hours later, emerging into a damp, dark cellar. From there, they make their way up the stairs and through the house, finding the basket of fresh clothes—simpler than and Pasquale’s attire and far less distinctive than the palace servants’ uniforms Gisella and Ambrose are wearing—and bundles of bread and cheese that Violie’s mother and her friends at the Crimson Petal arranged to leave for them when Pasquale sent them word. They left four horses as well, and and the others waste no time changing into the new clothes and leaving the safe house.
The empress will expect them to head north, and will no doubt set up a patrol along the Frivian border, so instead leads them west, toward Lake Asteria. Once they reach the coast, they’ll be able to book passage on ships—, Pasquale, and Ambrose to Friv, and Gisella to Cellaria.
—
They don’t stop until noon the following day, when all of them are so exhausted they’re nearly falling off their horses. After finding an inn near the southern edge of Lake Asteria, they pay for two rooms. Pasquale and Ambrose take one, while and Gisella take the other. Gisella isn’t ’s first choice of bedmate, but Pasquale and Ambrose deserve some time alone and someone has to keep an eye on Gisella, at least until they go their separate ways when they reach the harbor. They take turns bathing behind a screen, and while Gisella is doing so, takes the liberty of drugging one of the bowls of soup the innkeeper brought them for lunch with a sleeping draught strong enough to keep Gisella unconscious for the rest of the day and night.
When Gisella emerges from behind the screen in her shift, her blond hair wet and braided, hanging over her shoulder, her eyes go straight to the bowl of soup left on the table beside the bed.
“I take it that’s for me,” she says. It’s the most she’s said since they left the castle, and her voice comes out raspy from disuse. “Please tell me you don’t think I’m stupid enough to eat it.”
sighs, holding up the poison ring on her finger. “Your choice, Gisella,” she says, spinning it around her finger so Gisella can see the needle. “I’ve kept my end of the bargain, but that doesn’t mean I trust you enough to sleep beside you unless I know you’re out too.”
Gisella’s lips purse, her eyes on the ring. “What is your plan, then?” she asks.
shrugs. “I don’t trust you on your own in Bessemia, so we’ll stay together until we reach the harbor and you can book passage on a ship to Cellaria.”
“And where will you go?” Gisella asks. “Friv? Or farther?”
only smiles. “You can’t honestly believe I’d tell you that.”
Gisella’s jaw clenches, but after a moment, she nods and picks up the drugged bowl of soup from the table, lifting it to her lips and drinking several mouthfuls. It’s only then that realizes that she was all but starving in the dungeons. The pang of sympathy that goes through her is irritating—Gisella doesn’t deserve sympathy.
“You can finish it,” tells her. “I didn’t use too much of a sleeping draught in it—just enough to keep you asleep until after sunrise.”
“Forgive me if I don’t trust your expertise in poison,” Gisella says, though after a moment, she takes another sip, then another. “You did need my help, after all.” She pauses, finishing off the soup. “Did it work?”
glances away, thinking of Nigellus as the life left his eyes. “Yes,” she says. “Though not against my intended target. Plans change, we adapt. I’ll get another chance.” As she says the words, she wonders if they’re true. She’ll make them true.
They get ready for bed quickly and in silence, each sliding beneath the covers on opposite sides of the large bed. Tired as she is, forces herself to stay awake. She won’t sleep until she knows Gisella is unconscious.
Just when is about to roll over and check if Gisella is truly asleep, she speaks.
“For what it’s worth, I am sorry,” she says.
It’s the last thing hears before she feels the press of a needle against the back of her neck and darkness swallows her whole.