SWEET POISON
Izel
Far across the keep, inside her chamber, Izel stands before her mirror, brushing out her long, wine-coloured hair.
The Head Housekeeper, Vanya, bows low behind her, whispering, “It is true, my lady. She no longer drinks tea or ale at the table. She only pretends. The healer has her on something else. She has also been seen training with soldier Tamsin.”
Izel’s brush halts. Her reflection smirks back at her, sweet as poison. “So… she thinks she can crawl out of her grave.” She sets the brush down with intended calm. “Then we accelerate.”
Vanya hesitates for once, her conscience breaking through the glamour. Izel doesn’t feel endangered. She doesn’t have to keep her power flowing all the time. Not to maintain her control on this woman, at least. “Accelerate what?”
“Everything.” Izel’s cruel smile widens. Her fingers trace the edge of the amulet resting against her neck—a kind gift from her otherwise unkind mother. “If Freya Vale-Thorne is climbing back to life, then I will make sure she has no breath left to claim.”