Page 211 of Owned

Avril turns with him, but her eyes are on me, and they burn into mine from across the garden and it’s almost enough to make me forget the ache she’s caused.

Almost.

“My loyal friends,” Lucian said in a voice that reverberated through the darkness, “join me in raising a toast to Avril Romano.”

He paused again.

Dramatic bastard.

“Heir of Withermarsh!”

The words are thick and ugly in my ears.

“Heir of Withermarsh!” the crowd shouted.

I flicked my eyes to the table, to the wine Lucian drank.

I knew she could see me.

Her gaze slides to the goblet in her hands and back to me.

Poison.

I try to force the thought into her mind.

But the remnants of her binding spell still muffled my magic— I have to hope that she knows not to drink it.

Her chin lifted, and she raised her glass with a smile on her lips.

Don’t drink it.

“Don’t,” I whispered.

Every other sound was lost in the din of the enthusiastic cheers of his sycophants.

He tipped his head back and drained his glass.

I held my breath as I watched the poisoned wine go down his throat.

Tight anticipation clenched my muscles and I could feel the pulse of my blood—the pulse of the bind—stretching tight.

Avril brought the glass to her mouth, her eyes on me as she did.

My hands clenched.

Would she drink it, knowing?

Lucian set his glass down in front of her and leaned in close. His lips moved but I couldn’t hear his words over the sound of the garden party.

The smug bastard.

Her expression changed as he whispered, and she pulled the glass away from her lips without drinking.

Good.

Her full lips parted, and she said something back to him.

It looked like—

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