Page 94 of The Exile's Curse

By the time Lucien led her onto the dance floor for their first dance, it was already late.

"How much longer, do you think?" she hissed through her smile as Lucien swung her into the rhythm of the waltz. As always, dancing with him was easy, and a pleasure now that she had let go of her anger, but while it was delightful, she also wanted it to be over.

"Some time, I'd imagine," Lucien replied. "After all, they haven't even brought out the kafiet yet."

Goddess. Kafiet. There'd been multiple rounds of the cursed stuff at Mikvel and Katiya's wedding. She wanted a clear head tonight. To be in command of her senses when she finally got Lucien alone. After all, she had learned that he was very good at making all of them happy.

"Remind me never to let an Andalyssian plan a party for me again," she said.

"I will," he said. "Of course, that requires that you'll still be talking to me after we return to Lumia and—"

"I'm sure I will," she cut him off. It seemed wrong to speak of divorce while dancing at their wedding. She didn't want to think much at all. Surely she deserved a night of frivolity where she could just pretend she was dancing with a lover and forget all the ways in which the coming days and weeks and months were going to be hard?

She reached for the bond, wanting distraction. They hadn't spent much time together yet since they'd formed it, and she was still curious about what exactly it could do. But what answered her wasn't the spark of magic but rather a sense of hunger and heat. Of wanting. The same need driving her impatience for the reception to be done with. But it wasn't hers. It was his. And the strength of it made her giddy, heating her cheeks.

Lucien raised a brow. "Would you care to share whatever thought crossed your mind just then?"

"Perhaps later," she said, batting her eyelashes.

He grinned, but then his gaze lifted, his eyes scanning the crowd as they waltzed.

Looking for the man from the garden.

"I doubt he will be here this evening," she said. "Just enjoy the dance. Leave the watching to Honore and the others."

Honore had come to her rooms while she'd been eating breakfast, wanting to know more of Chloe's encounter in the garden. There hadn't been much time to spare, but she'd promised the sanctii would be watching. Chloe lacked the talent that some water mages had that allowed them to sense the presence of a sanctii even when they were invisible, but it was comforting to know they were looking out for her.

Lucien didn't immediately look back, but when he did, he was smiling again. "My apologies. But I said I'd keep you safe."

"And I have perfect faith that you will," she said, meaning it. "But this is, as we discussed, your wedding night. As your bride, I feel obligated to make sure you enjoy it."

His grin widened, pupils flaring, and she knew she had captured his attention once more. A renewed pulse of heat came through the bond. "I have perfect faith that you will," he said and whirled her into the next dance.

There was more dancing. More wine. More Andalyssians whose names she came close to forgetting as her body grew more tightly focused on Lucien. They were standing talking with Theo, Giane, Mikvel, and Katiya when servants finally began appearing with trays of kafiet. At Mikvel's wedding, no one had drunk until the bride and groom did, and they had been served last. She watched as everyone took the tiny glasses, the kafiet gleaming pale green as it always did. Lucien took his before the male servant offered her the very last glass.

She took it, held it as Mikvel made the toast. Smiled at his gentle joke that earned laughter from the crowd. Went to lift it to her lips, eyes locked on Lucien's. But as he began to tip his back, she saw the servant still standing close, his expression intent. Alarm flared as a faint odd chord of magic sounded. As Lucien began to swallow, she saw a flash of red at the heart of the kafiet. A color that shouldn't be there.

Without thinking, she threw up a hand, pulling wildly on the bond. Her magic cracked through the room and the glasses all shattered, triggering shouts and cries of alarm.

She stood panting, almost reeling in the aftershock, eyes fixed on Lucien. Time enough to worry if she'd hurt anyone once she knew he was all right. That she'd been fast enough.

A tiny streak of blood appeared on his cheek, above the place where he'd been bruised by the branch back in the forest. He lifted his free hand to touch it, frowning. Said, "Chloe, what—" and then toppled over.

Chapter 27

"Lucien!" Chloe lunged forward but couldn’t catch him as he crumpled. The court had erupted into panic, but she didn’t care, dropping to her knees beside Lucien, searching frantically for a pulse.

There.

Too weak, but there.

Tightening her grip on his wrist, she reached for the ley line, sending a flood of magic into him, trying to give him strength.

Irina appeared on Lucien's other side, crouching carefully. Her face was pale, but her voice stayed steady as her eyes scanned Lucien’s body. "What happened?"

"There was something in the glass," Chloe said, still pouring magic into him. "A flash of red."

Irina's eyes widened. She uncurled Lucien's hand, still wrapped around the base of his kafiet glass, pulled it free, and sniffed it cautiously. "Firewort," she said. "I think." She turned and snapped orders at the nearest servant to fetch her bags and the healers. Then she looked past Chloe to Mikvel, green eyes blazing.

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