Page 38 of Entangled

But... I can’t let on that anything’s wrong. Not yet.

I feel lightheaded.

Looking around the camp, I see snake tattoos rippling on men’s hands as they lift bowls and spoons to eat. I don’t know how much is needed for them to die, but surely it’s more than a few mouthfuls.

“Hiya,” Akira says with another slight smile. “Thanks for cooking again.”

My hand doesn’t shift on the ladle. I think I’m frozen. Flickers of real panic begin to spark through me. No, I can’t.

Not her. Not her, not her, not her.

Her smile fades, and her eyes drift to the pot. “Is everything?—?”

“Mateo needs your help,” Madison cuts in from behind me, cutting my spiral off in a single, neat slice.

Akira scowls, and her black hair is a pretty tangle around her face. It’s much cleaner than mine or Madison’s. “I’m about to eat.”

Madison shrugs, leaning on me for subtle support. I see her lift her injured ankle and worry snipes at me. “Don’t bitch to me about it. He’s by the latrines.”

With a heavy sigh, Akira gives me a rueful look—and Madison a dark one—then stalks off after Mateo. My knees turn so wobbly with relief that I need to lean on Madison for a second to gather myself.

“Thank you,” I whisper. “Thank you, thank you, thank you.”

Madison pulls me up, then squeezes my forearm. “I didn’t do it for her.” Then she looks around. “How long?”

I shake my head, following her glance. “I don’t know.”

The men seem fine for the moment. My throat is dry and tight. What if it’s not enough? What if the timing is wrong? What if we can’t get away?What if, what if, what if?

I feel Madison go tense beside me and follow her glance.

Alastair.

He’s watching us from his spot beneath the large, throne-like tree. Staring with that same silent, unfathomable intensity. Has he caught on? Does he suspect?

He doesn’t have a bowl.

My pulse starts racing again.

“I’ll—” Madison starts, and I snick my tongue against my teeth in a dismissive sound.

“No. He won’t believe you’d do anything to help him.” I swallow. Hard. “I’ll do it.”

As I fill this final bowl, my hands do shake.

There’s simply somethingaboutAlastair.

Even at his worst and most sickly, he has a frightening presence. Sitting upright, as he is today, with his eyes clearer than I’ve seen them, I feel suddenly sure he could have me dead at his feet in moments at the wrong provocation.

By the time I reach him, I’m trying hard to hide my trembles.

“Good morning, Eden,” Alastair says, greeting me in his usual courteous whisper.

My fingers tighten on the bowl.

“Hello, Alastair,” I reply, hoping he can’t see the way my pulse pounds in my throat. I glance around. “Where’s Mateo?”

“He’s out fetching more herbs with a few of our men.” Pale green eyes regard me. “You mentioned you were running low.”

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