Page 94 of The Crown of a Fallen Queen
Alaric raises his cup in cheer and hands over the other. “In your honor.”
Feyfire wine is strong enough to mask the taste of my brewed potion, fragrant enough to cover any bitterness, and an aphrodisiac in its own right, which can bear the blame for the aftermath. It’s like Alaric knew I’d be using a love potion instead of arrows.
I squeeze his lower arm for his guests’ benefit and whisper, “I need a minute alone.”
He nods, and I skip out of the room through the nearest door, exiting to an empty hallway. Once there, I reach for the clear glass vial tucked between my breasts, my hands trembling.
I tug on the Aurelian talisman to get it out of my cleavage and activate it. The disk is cool against my skin, its crude chain matching the gown in an oddly perfect way.
If I had my magic, this would be easy. Instead, I’m stuck relying on a third-rate invisibility enchantment. My heartpounds. I have to move fast, before any of the Fae have time to notice my shadow.
As I return to Tatiana’s side under the spell of the talisman, my steps are quick and silent. The flats were a stroke of luck.
I twist the seal off the potion, and my fingers turn white around the vial. I don’t want to do this. Gods, I really don’t. It goes against everything I believe in. Everything I’ve fought for.
Tatiana doesn’t want to marry Alaric, but like most well-born daughters, she likely didn’t get to choose Maddox, either. And Alaric will marry her tomorrow one way or another, so the love potion is kinder than the alternative.
That’s how I try to rationalize it, but my hands shake.
It’s disgusting, plain and simple. I should stop. Right now. Dump the contents of the vial, let the plan fall apart, and face the consequences.
But if I do, it’s not just me who suffers.
I pour the potion in Tatiana’s wine, right before she picks the cup off the tray. The liquid vanishes instantly, and a tight knot curls under my ribs.
I slip out of the room to click the talisman off.
When I return, my shoulders are squared, my face composed. There’s no applause for this kind of trickery, no glory. Just white-hot guilt.
My eyes lock on my mark. I know better than to assume she’ll drink the poisoned wine without a hitch. She wets her lips on the rim of the flute just as Nathaniel approaches and steals it from her hands.
Bloody hells.
I’m too far away to hear his words, but I’m good at lip reading. “May I have this dance?” he asks.
Tatiana curtsies, smiling from ear to ear.
Nathaniel hands the metal flute over to her father. “I’ll bring her back shortly, Your Lordship.”
Does he know? Did he see me spike her drink?
The couple takes to the dance floor. For a woman engaged to Maddox Storm, Tatiana Grimmage certainly enjoys the company of the youngest Rayne. He holds her close, and the way she blushes tickles my curiosity.
Are they lovers?
But if that were true, wouldn’t Alaric be ticked off by it? Unless Nathaniel is making a play for her, like he did for me? Alaric did mention she was a virgin.
As Tatiana stares up at Nathaniel, the storm over her heart thins long enough for me to glimpse at the truth. She’s engaged to Maddox, coveted by Alaric, but shelovesNathaniel. It’s right there, in the glow of her heart as he holds her.
Alaric weaves his way through the dancers to tap his brother’s shoulder.
“Can I step in?”
Tatiana’s eyes widen, and she shakes her head. “No.”
I slip closer.
“You’re here, in my home,” Alaric hisses. “You can’t refuse your host a simple dance.”
