Page 113 of Of Glass and of Gold

“Shall we join you?” Melody said.

I didn’t want an audience for what I anticipated to be a redecorating of the bathroom. “No, no. Go, eat, mingle. Enjoy yourselves. I’ll be right back.” I lost all pretense of feigning contentment when my skin started heating.

With a hand pressed into my side, I held as upright a position as I could, asking a staff member to direct me to the facilities. The girl didn’t hesitate to lead the way, and bowed before giving me some privacy. I threw myself against the door after it closed, breathing out a hard breath. I lunged for the sink, running the faucet and wetting my hands before tapping them against my cheeks, forehead and neck.

A spasm that felt like a punch to the stomach had me crying out and hunched over a second later. I’d eaten way worse things before, things halfway to being rotten and stale, but never had a reaction like this.

I hoped it would pass, but it showed no signs of slowing. Still considering it was a food reaction, I thought over what I’d eaten. No one else seemed bothered. But not many had consumed their chicken yet. The meat didn’t look or taste rotten, and the herbs…

The herbs didn’t taste as flavorful as the amount of greenery promised.

“Hard to care for, and useless for flavor.”

I recalled the plants growing in that dank basement. I’d thought nothing of it when Alejo commented on herbs he couldn’t use for baking. It hadn’t occurred to me then why the plants would be kept hidden away from discovering eyes.

Because they weren’t simple herbs. They were poisonous plants.

The ground shifted beneath my feet, either from the realization or the side effects, I didn’t know. I hadn’t convinced them to change their approach, and I’d given them information about this very event. With a revolving set of serving staff, anyone of them could have been a new hire, or planted by Dee.

I wanted to curl up, to purge my guts until it cleared my system, but shock turned my blood cold despite the fever starting to moisten my skin. Everyone else had poison on their plates with no idea of the danger.

I ran, stumbling through the pain that seized me in violent waves. My heels weren’t quiet against the polished stone floor as I staggered in. My feet could barely lift off the ground, turning into a frantic, clunky shuffle.

Nick’s chair screeched as the wood skidded against the stone. He ran, arriving just in time to catch my collapsing body. My mind felt like the ocean, writhing waves unable to grasp anything solid. I could barely hear Nick’s muffled voice calling my name. His beautiful golden hair came into view, his blue eyes piercing the blurry world for a brief moment.

“T-the ch..icken. P-poisoned.” My lips and tongue lost their ability to work in unison, and the pain ascended to something so unbearable that blackness encroached my vision and swept me under.

56

Nora

Spurts of fuzzy colors and sounds formed incoherent images, all strung together, seemingly connected by nothing. Every attempt I’d made to focus ended up failing before the next time I thought to try again.

My body felt lifeless, serving only as a container to hold me while I could do nothing but acknowledge it. I pried my eyelids open and slowly settled back into awareness.

Walls. A ceiling. A room, I was in a room. Granted, one I’d never seen before, but the eventual clarity of the four-poster bed frame and blankets in the daylight confirmed it. Before my next breath, a pounding thrum assaulted my head, and I groaned.

“Nora?” A broken voice from someone beside me resounded. Male. Raspy, and deep.

Nicholas.

It took a strained effort, but I tilted my head toward him. Sorrow lined his usually glowing features, and his hand was stroking my hair before I could blink.

“Thank the gods.” He pressed a trembling kiss to my temple. Maybe it was from the lack of feeling in my body, but his usual strength seemed to wane with the small effort.

“W-where are we?” I asked, the sound of my own voice beating against my skull like one of Odion’s hammers.

“My room. Our room,” he corrected. He took my hand between both of his, working it between his tender hold. “I thought I lost you,” his voice shuddered, and I watched his ocean eyes line with silver, the drops spilling onto his sharp cheekbones. Upon closer inspection, the whites of his eyes were pink, an indication that this wasn’t the first time he’d become upset.

Most of my body hurt in some fashion, but that pricked a spot in my chest. “I’m here.” I wanted to reach out to him, to kiss away the worry, but found no energy to do so. He rested his forehead against my hand, his hold never retreating.

I stumbled over fragmented memories, trying to recall how I’d gotten here. I couldn’t organize the timeline on my own. “What happened?” I asked through a dry throat.

“Here.” Nick rested my hand on the bed before pouring water into a cup and bringing it to my lips. A stack of pillows propped me up into a near sitting position, so I didn’t have to work hard to take down a sip. Then another. He only stopped offering once my lips couldn’t open anymore.

“You ate some bad food. You’ve been resting since.”

Bad food? Where had I eaten bad food? When was the last time I had even eaten? “What day is it?”

---