Chapter 21 #2
She hurried to Torin’s side, and I watched as she whispered in his ear, then tugged him into a quick kiss. I must have struck a nerve, because that had been the true Rowena looking at me for a moment. She didn’t like how much Imogen was spending—or maybe what it was being spent on.
I watched them move arm in arm through the room.
Rowena’s belt had a silver flask hanging from it, which I eyed suspiciously.
Light faeries often adorned their attire with crystals and glass lenses—the equivalent of wearing a sword, considering their powers—but this was a more unusual fashion choice, and one that didn’t bode well, considering her reputation as a poison collector.
Torin and Rowena met Ulric by a table filled with flutes of ice wine.
I’d learned he was Imogen’s closest advisor, as well as the uncle of Karissa, the dead Illusion candidate.
That resemblance was particularly strong tonight.
The amethyst-tipped pins in Ulric’s curling red hair sparkled, and his tunic was a mulberry shade Karissa had often preferred.
His smile as he greeted Torin and Rowena was like hers, too—slightly simpering, slightly wicked.
I watched the three of them carefully. The Light and Illusion candidates had been allies during the trials, but animosity had risen between them behind closed doors. Did their relatives hold similar grudges?
Torin leaned in to say something to Ulric, and Ulric’s smile grew. Then the Illusion lord bent over Rowena’s hand, kissing it. When he dropped it, I saw the glint of something in his palm, which he quickly transferred to his pocket.
The Light faeries left, heading towards the food, and I realized the flask was missing from Rowena’s belt.
Ulric picked up a glass of wine and began making the rounds. I followed him from a safe distance, keeping track of who he spoke to.
It took thirty minutes of watching, but my patience finally paid off.
Ulric moved past a tall table where Gweneira was standing with Lara, and though he didn’t pause to speak with them, his eyes lingered on the drink next to Gweneira’s hand.
He moved to a nearby table, took a few sips of his own drink to lower the level, then quickly reached into his pocket, uncapped the flask, and dumped the contents into the wine.
A moment later he retraced his steps. He faked a stumble and bumped into Gweneira and Lara’s table, interrupting their conversation.
He set his wine down next to Gweneira’s, apologizing profusely for the clumsiness, and upon their assurance no damage had been done, picked up his glass before moving on.
Except he hadn’t grabbed his glass. He’d picked up Gweneira’s.
Gweneira said something quiet that made Lara laugh, then smiled and raised the wine to her lips.
A panicked surge of magic burst out of me, freezing her arm before she could tip the drink onto her tongue.
Alarm flashed over her face. I felt her straining against my magical hold, but then the alarm was replaced by a look of realization, and she stopped fighting and swept her eyes over the room instead.
I pushed my way through the crowd. “Don’t drink that,” I said, releasing the hold on her arm.
She slowly lowered the glass to the table.
“Why not?” Lara asked, looking puzzled.
Gweneira looked like she already knew. “Who did you see?”
“Ulric. Rowena handed him a flask, and he poured it into his drink before switching the glasses.”
Gweneira didn’t react outwardly, other than a twitch of her fingers on the stem of her glass. “Doing it at a public event is bold.”
Lara leaned in, lowering her voice. “Are you saying that’s…”
“Poison.” Gweneira frowned down at the purple alcohol. “Something with a delayed effect, presumably, since toppling over dead at a party would ruin the mood.”
She was far too calm about this. “Have they tried this before?” I asked.
“Oh, we try to kill each other every chance we get. I sleep with guards in my room and only eat what I prepare with my own hands.”
“It’s not just their doing if Ulric is involved,” I said.
“Imogen wants Light House united and subservient to her before the Accord ends.” Her expression was thoughtful as she tapped her fingernail against the glass.
“She promised to guarantee my safety if I vowed fealty to Torin and Rowena and stopped aiding Drustan. I told her she’s na?ve if she thinks she can control them to that extent. Apparently she’s given up on me.”
Another bribe from Imogen. “She offered to protect me from them, too. Drustan and Hector are too important to kill, but apparently you and I are fair game.”
“Why would they be any more important than you?” Lara demanded.
“They have armies,” I pointed out. “And she said it would be easy to make my death look like an accident, since I’m new to being Fae.”
“None of the candidates for the throne can be seen starting this war during the Accord,” Gweneira told Lara.
“If I die, that can be framed as a Light House succession issue. If Kenna dies, there’s enough plausible deniability for Imogen to get away with it.
Any of the others?” She shook her head. “Imogen will try diplomacy first.”
Lara was looking increasingly angry. “What are you going to do?”
“Do?”
“With the poison.”
“See if an herbalist can identify what’s in it,” Gweneira said. “I’d like to know how they envision me dying.”
“Why not slip it to Rowena instead?” Lara asked. “Torin will think Ulric turned on them.”
Gweneira gave Lara an impressed look. “That would be an excellent idea…if Torin and Rowena hadn’t been watching us this entire time.”
Lara’s eyes widened. She started to turn, but Gweneira stilled her with a palm on her hand.
“Don’t. They’re just pretending to look at the sculptures.
” Her smile was wry. “I’m so used to them glaring at me that I didn’t even think about it until Kenna stopped me from drinking.
But they saw Ulric swap the glasses, which means we won’t be able to frame him. ”
My skin crawled. I hadn’t noticed them watching, either.
Lara looked down at where Gweneira was touching her. “It was a nice thought,” she muttered.
“It was.” Gweneira squeezed Lara’s hand before letting go. “Exciting as this party has been, I believe I will retire early.” She smiled at me, though there was tension around her eyes. “Thank you for the rescue, Kenna. This is the last party I’ll be drinking at.”
She left, glass in hand. I looked for Torin and Rowena and found them beside Imogen’s ice sculpture, scowling as they watched Gweneira exit the ballroom. Rowena’s gaze snapped back to me, and her eyes narrowed.
I smiled at her, raised my hand, and waggled my fingers. Then I turned my back, vowing not to drink any more wine at these events, either.