Page 80 of Claimed by the Savage Dragons
‘I knew it was getting worse,’ he whispers suddenly. ‘I knew he was trying to turn the faction against me, but I didn’t think they’d all switch to his side so easily.’
I give him a sympathetic look. ‘I’m sorry.’
He shakes his head. ‘You have nothing to be sorry for, Mari. If you hadn’t cut through all the bullshit, made me see what’s going on, I’d still be blissfully unaware, and probably dead within weeks.’
‘Weeks?’ I gasp
He opens his mouth to answer when there’s a soft knock at the door followed by a scratching sound.
‘That’s Del,’ he says, rising from his desk and going to the door.
He opens it a little and she slips in, her brow furrowed. ‘What’s with all the cloak and dagger?’
‘Do you have a dragonsbane testing kit?’ he asks without preamble.
Her frown deepens. ‘I always have one in the special bag. But who for?’
He gives her a look and she breathes out slowly. ‘Shit, Drey. You think someone poisoned you? That’s one hell of an accusation.’
‘That’s why I need the test, Del.’
‘Yeah.’ She puts a small duffle bag on the desk and pulls out a cotton swab. ‘Open.’
Drey opens his mouth, and she swabs the inside of his cheek.
‘How long does it take?’ I ask.
She looks surprised that I’m in the room. ‘About ten seconds.’
She puts the swab into a small vial and screws it shut. ‘If dragonsbane is present, the liquid in this tube will turn green,’ she says as she sets it on the table and then gasps as it turns a shade of olive and then a very putrid green.
‘Fuck!’
She fumbles for her bag, opening it and taking out a bottle of pills. She thrusts it into Drey’s hands.
‘Take five. Right now,’ she orders. ‘At these levels, you’ll be dead in days if we don’t bring them down. After these first five, you’ll need to take five pills a day for ten days at least at regular intervals.’
Drey gapes at her as if he didn’t really think I’d be right.
‘Drey!’
He blinks and unscrews the bottle. ‘Yeah. Okay.’
‘We need to figure out where the source is, too. I haven’t seen concentrations like this since the days in the Middle Ages when dragon hunters would line dungeons with the stuff, Drey. This is prolonged exposure. Months. We’re talking exhaustion, but also severe headaches. Brain fog. Cognitive decline.’
‘No wonder you didn’t see what was happening in your faction,’ I mutter. ‘They made it so you weren’t thinking properly. You couldn’t.’
Drey regards me in dawning realization.
‘Where could it be coming from?’ Del asks.
‘The food?’ I ask, remembering the baskets that would appear in Drey’s kitchen. ‘It’s delivered every day.’
Del shakes her head. ‘Sheila is in charge of packing the daily deliveries. She’d never do that. Never.’
‘But who actually brings them?’ I ask.
Drey snarls low. ‘Robson.’
