Chapter 44
Zarek
OUR HONORED GUEST
I’m shivering by the time I reach the other tent.
Night is coming on fast, and the wind is picking up.
I briefly consider lingering outside the tent, trying to make out what the men inside are talking about, but then I remember the strange look on the huge servant’s face and decide against doing anything suspicious.
So I push open the tent flap and walk in like I belong there, smiling just like everyone else.
The room falls silent. It’s about what I expected, this tent.
Rough cots press against the flapping canvas walls with two long tables down the middle.
It’s exactly what you’d expect to find in any of Vsenrog’s military campaigns.
The jarring contrast between the massive bridal bed in my tent and the table full of men who look like soldiers in this tent makes me feel sick.
“Look who it is,” a voice drawls from the far end of the table.
Syvan comes to his feet. He’s standing where the commander would sit, at the head of the table, and he’s watching me with narrowed eyes and a tight smile. There’s a glow to his cheeks that makes me think the mug of wine in his hand isn’t his first.
“What’s the matter?” Syvan asks. “You got tired of your fat little bride?”
Some of the men snigger at this. Briefly, I imagine pulling out my dagger and sinking it into their exposed necks.
“It just seemed a little early to retire,” I reply with a smile. “If I’m not an imposition, of course.”
Syvan laughs. It’s a sharp, hard sound, like a glass shattering on stone, and that low pulse of alarm in my gut flares again. Syvan is always dangerous. But here, when he’s been drinking and he’s surrounded by men who’ve sworn their loyalty to him, he could be a monster.
“I thought the snake of Vsenrog goes wherever he wants,” Syvan hisses. “Isn’t that what they all say?”
I pull out an empty chair and sit down, making myself a smaller target.
“People say a lot of things,” I reply. “You should hear what they say about me in the Golden Rose.”
A few of the men laugh at that, thank the gods. Syvan sits back down, but he’s still staring at me through narrowed eyes. My skin crawls like it’s trying to drag me away. I reach for a mug, and Syvan seems to shake himself.
“Lyam,” Syvan calls. “Get our honored guest a drink!”
I pull my hand away from the mugs in the center of the table. A moment later, Lyam plops an elegant carved goblet down in front of me. It’s filled with dark liquid, something that smells expensive.
I take a sip. It’s wine, good wine, but with a harsh undertone, almost like it’s been fortified with something stronger.
“You’re too kind,” I say, tilting the goblet toward Syvan.
He laughs again, that harsh, brittle bark. “You’re the one we’re all celebrating,” he replies, lifting his own glass. “Now, come on, snake, show us what you’re made of. We’ve all heard you can drink!”
Great. I mentally apologize to Lilias for ever setting foot outside of the tent that was specifically designed for fucking, and I lift the goblet. The wine in here might be fortified, but one glass isn’t going to put me on my ass.
I tilt my head, open my throat, and drain the entire goblet. The men cheer. It tastes worse this time, and that undertone is stronger, almost bitter. I slam the carved goblet down on the table. The room pulses a little around the edges.
“Thank you, Prince Syvan,” I say, with as much dignity as I can muster. My mouth doesn’t seem to be working very well.
Syvan is still laughing. Everyone is still laughing. That pulse of alarm beats again, screaming around the inside of my skull.
Something is wrong here. Dangerously wrong. I need to get back to Lilias, she kissed me—
I shove back from the table. My chair falls over, hitting the floor. The men are still laughing, and the tent is spinning. How am I going to walk across the floor if it won’t stop moving?
“Prince Zarek,” Syvan says, turning the word prince into a sneer, an insult. “Drunk again. Well, you’ve all seen it. Some men just can’t handle their wine.”
Out of the spinning chaos around me, my eyes fall on the beautiful carved wooden goblet that Syvan’s second-in-command just gave me. The dark liquid inside. The bitter aftertaste.
Drugged, I realize numbly. They drugged me.
No, I counter as the floor slams up to hit me in the face. I should have known better than to take a drink from Lyam. To trust anything from Prince Syvan.
The men are still laughing as the world goes dark. My mind forms one final coherent thought before the drugs drag me under.
Syvan didn’t do this.
I let this happen.