Page 94 of Court of Secrets and Flames

But almost instantly, the solace turns traitorous. A merciless iron fist squeezes my gut. The cell spins, colors bleed into one another, and the fine pastry crumbles to ash in my mouth.

I stagger to my feet and bolt for the chamber pot in the corner of the cell, but I only manage a single step before I double over. The contents of my stomach flee their confines with violent insistence.

“Gods!” Jasper recoils, surprise etching his face as he fails to scramble away swiftly enough. His clothing bears the evidence of my body’s revolt, my vomit staining the rich fabric.

I choke between heaves, my attempt at dignity rendered pathetic by the relentless spasms that rack my frame. I am a helpless marionette whose strings have been cut, controlled only by the agony twisting inside me.

Tingles run across my chest, and my vision blurs and wavers. I’m on the dirt, on my knees, but I don’t remember falling.

“Protect the king!” The butler leaps forward, more concerned with royal garments than my well-being.

“Are you unwell?” Jasper steps farther back, clear of the line of fire.

“I…” My stomach contracts around a tangle of knives. Anything I might have said is cut off by another wave of nausea surging forth with a screaming gurgle of pain. “The…pastries.”

I knew I should have questioned why the cook prepared a dessert with fruit that could harm the king. Though I guess now I have my answer. “You…set me…up.”

The king’s focus falls on the plate, and the red patches splotching his face have me second-guessing that assumption. “The strawberries,” he hisses.

“Clear the table! Stand guard!” The orders fly from a guard’s lips as his companions sweep their gazes across the cell in search of unseen threats or an explanation for this sudden shift in events. “Get the king out of here!”

A grim humor pierces the painful fog. I’d wished for Jasper to keep his distance, and now, fate has answered in its own cruel fashion. He’s surrounded by guards and shuffled out of my prison.

“Take Lark to her chamber.” Jasper’s voice carries from outside the cell. “Get the healer!” He faces me. “I’m sorry, Lark. I swear I didn’t know.”

Oddly enough, I think I believe him. And hey, I wanted out of the dungeon. I guess I just should have been more specific about how that came about.

I lie in a crumpled heap, forgotten as the butler and remaining guards clear the pastries from the table. With trembling arms, I try to push myself to my feet. But I’m too weak to stand.

“Fetch the cook, now!” A guard gestures to the butler as they gather the rest of the food.

The murmurs of conspiracy grow faint as everyone exits. I’m left alone.

Another wave washes over me and fresh, hot bile streams from my mouth and nose. Through blurry eyes, the streaks of red stand out like a flag. Whether it’s from the strawberries or blood, I don’t know.

The door clangs open, and Blair races in.

He kneels beside me, first checking my pulse, then feeling of my head. “Are you able to stand?”

I attempt to shake my head as another wave of torture assaults my stomach, and I throw up bitter bile on top of everything else. “I’m…sorry.”

“It’s all right.” He scoops me in his arms and stands. “I’m taking you to the healer. Stay with me, okay?”

“O-okay.”

My head throbs and my pulse thrums in my ears as Blair carries me from my cage.

Whoever poisoned the strawberries knew the king wouldn’t eat the pastries. Someone has been paying far too close attention, planning this sinister act with chilling precision.

The same way the kidnapper knew exactly when to come for me in the gardens.

Somebody targeted me.

“Stay awake.” Blair’s voice is laced with barely concealed panic as he sprints down the corridor. “We’re almost there.”

A shiver runs up my spine, and goose bumps break out along my arms. My entire body trembles as if I’m in the middle of a snowstorm.

As Blair continues the trek to my chamber, I try to hold on to the thought I’d had.

---