by Ann Aguirre
Though he knew little about such matters, it was clear even to him that the princess’s staff must have worked long hours to transform the cold stone. Old tapestries covered the walls, and the sweet herbs burned here as well. Winter woodcraft wreaths graced every table, and Eldritch workers were still scurrying, even as they stepped in.
“I don’t know if the food will be up to par,” she said softly. “But we weren’t expecting to push the schedule forward so much, so please understand that my people have done their best.”
“Are you asking me to be gracious?” Amusement flickered through him.
Raff headed for the table with the largest centerpiece and a placard that marked it as ‘RESERVED’. If that was wrong, she’d surely correctly him. Since the princess maintained her courteous hold on his arm, he trusted this was where he ought to be. He pulled out her chair and seated himself once she was settled. There was room at the table for his four guards, two more seats as well. At that moment he realized he had no idea who might sit with them as Thalia’s family.
Soon, Lileth took her place on the other side, but the final chair remained empty. Until a lean, foxy-faced Eldritch woman slipped into the spot five minutes later. She had darker hair than most of her people, a burnished gold instead of white or silver, and her eyes were a piercing green, hard as agate, and intensely watchful. She smelled…strange, a tang of something chemical and unfamiliar. He had seen her before—and not just while wandering Daruvar. A bit later, it came to him.
I encountered her first at Ash Valley.
Which meant she had been among Gavriel’s people who survived after Lord Talfayen turned. Raff’s attention sharpened, and sure enough, she was wearing twin daggers that marked her as a Noxblade. Is she protection or close kin? The only way to find out was to ask.
Raff tried a charming smile. “I don’t believe I’ve had the pleasure.”
Unlike Gavriel, this Noxblade didn’t scowl like it was part of her training, but he noticed that while her mouth curved, her eyes were still as cold as a mossy pond. “We haven’t been introduced, though I did see you at Ash Valley. I’m Tirael.”
“She’s my…cousin,” the princess said.
“You’re being generous.” With an expression as blank as that white linen, Tirael smoothed a napkin across her lap. “It would be wrong of me to rely on our distant connection, so it’s a privilege to be included at the head table.”
Lileth chose that moment to rise with her glass in hand. “It’s time for the wedding toasts and then we can finally eat. Thank you all for your patience.”
Surprisingly, Janek stood as well, possibly in response to a prior arrangement. Raff hadn’t been informed how the wedding would go; just as well, he wasn’t interested. His stomach rumbled, reminding him how long it had been since breakfast. Plus, they didn’t serve protein-dense fare like he was used to. Unless we do some hunting, living here will kill me. Even the princess’s white vedda beast was starting to look delicious.
But there should be red hart somewhere in these hills. If we take one down, the venison will last a while.
Come to it, he needed to decide who to keep with him for his three-month tenure. Probably not Bibi, Pine Ridge needs her. Janek would be an asset here…
The old wolf cut into his thoughts by tapping a small spoon against his glass to quiet the room. “May you be poor in misfortune and rich in blessings. This day we saw two shadows become one, a single thread binding you to the other’s fate.”
Still, why does that sound so…ominous?
Lileth continued the toast. Despite his general antipathy for formal nonsense, Raff had to admire how smoothly they’d orchestrated the occasion. “From this day forward, neither of you is alone. May you always have walls for the wind, a roof for the rain, a hearth with a merrily crackling fire, and everything that your heart desires. Raise your glass and drink to our fair princess and the wolf lord.”
The elder Eldritch woman lifted her goblet high, so it caught the morning light, refracting sunbeams, then she drained it, likely showing her commitment to the marital alliance her princess had chosen. Reflexively, Raff brought his glass up and it smelled strange, bitter and—
“Stop!” he shouted. “The wine’s been poisoned!”
10.
That was impossible, it couldn’t be true. We had security. The fortress is secure—
Can’t breathe. Thalia’s throat tightened as fear became a vise on her neck, rising, rising, floodwater that would choke and drown her. “No!” The word burst free before she could lock down her panic.
A queen is always—oh, fuck that. Fuck being calm.
Nothing could happen to Lileth, who had been like a mother to her for so long. She leapt from her chair as the older woman collapsed. Janek’s reflexes were fast enough, even at his age, that the old wolf didn’t let her hit the floor. Instead, he swung Lileth up in his arms and moved toward the exit.
“Don’t eat or drink anything,” she called to the guests, rushing after him to bark more orders. “Take samples from each plate and bottle, then discard the rest. I need to know how broad the attack was.”
Tirael nodded. “I’ll get Ferith. She can supervise the investigation.”
Since Raff had been treated after the disastrous hunt, Janek must know the way to the infirmary. He proved this was true with his sure but hurried footfalls. Thalia called Dr. Wyeth as she ran, the rest of the wolves close behind. “We have an emergency. I need you right away.”
“What’s happened?” He’d been one of the few exempted from the festivities, given permission to keep watch on a couple of patients instead.
“I’ll tell you when I see you. Prep the IC machine.”
Dr. Wyeth met them outside the makeshift hospital, his gaze flying to Lileth’s prone body. “Not Lil!”
“She’s been poisoned,” Raff said. “I’m not sure how much was in the wine, but she drank the whole thing. I smelled bitter almonds and a sharp medicinal tang in addition to the fermented grapes and the essence of the wood cask—”
The doctor shot him an incredulous look. “You got all that in one whiff?”
Thalia might’ve been amazed if she hadn’t watched the cats sniffing for mines ahead of her convoy. “Animari senses are incredibly sharp. Help her, please.”
Responding to her urgency, Dr. Wyeth took command of the scene. “Get me bloodwork and pump her stomach.”
The nurse leapt to do his bidding, taking samples even as the rest of the medical team hurried around the infirmary. Thalia barely noticed when the wolf lord took her arm, but she did resist when he tried to pull her from the room.
“I have to be here.”
“We’re in the way. Let’s not hinder the rescue efforts.”
“Then you go,” she said sharply. “This woman practically raised me, and I will not leave her.”
His hand dropped away. “I didn’t know.” It was an indication of his character that he didn’t force the issue. “Then let’s move to the doorway. You can still see everything from there, but we won’t interfere with treatment.”
“Fine.” Thalia let him lead her that far. Her heart thundered in her ears, an infinite onslaught of dread.
Raff turned to his people. “Please go check on things in the dining hall and work with the head Noxblade to figure out who did this…and why.”
“I’m the target,” Thalia whispered.
“Why would you assume that?”
“Because poison just makes your people sick. It’s not an efficient means to eliminate a wolf, but our people have been ending each other this way for centuries. We’re good at it. And it doesn’t make sense that they’d strike at Lileth…she’s a low-value target. Therefore, they must not have realized that you’d detect the toxin before we all ingested it.”
The whole time she spoke, she didn’t take her eyes off Lil’s pale face. It was terrible to see the tube go down her throat, worse to imagine the worst coming to pass. This is because of me. My choices. This nightmari
sh tableau also summoned diabolical images, those she’d spent a hundred years trying to forget.
He didn’t respond to her assessment, which probably meant he agreed.
“It seems like she’s very special to you.” It was an invitation to talk, open-ended.
Normally she wouldn’t be drawn so easily but it felt like her tongue was unhinged. “I barely remember my mother, only how she died. Lileth was always there.”
“How your mother died…?” He trailed off, gentle but curious, and she supposed discretion didn’t matter.
He’ll learn what sort of unholy bargain he’s made, soon enough.
“She was poisoned by my father’s mistress,” Thalia said. “Right in her afternoon tea. By nightfall, she was foaming at the mouth. By sunrise, she was gone.”
“Shit,” Raff said.
It was the first time she’d thought of him by his first name instead of his title or what he represented to her people, but there was no point in mental formality when she was making such revelations about her family.
“How old were you?” he asked.
“Ten. Scarcely more than an infant.”
“We’ll agree to differ there, but…I’m sorry. This must be bringing back some dire memories.”
“That’s true enough.”
Thalia watched as Dr. Wyeth worked frantically to save Lileth, trying every hope they had. The dialysis setting on the IC machine didn’t seem to be helping fast enough, as Lileth lacked the supernal Animari recuperative process. The older woman was paler than death, so still that she scarcely seemed to be breathing.
Raff tugged lightly on the bond that connected them at the wrist to draw her attention. “What happened to her? The mistress.”
“My father had her publicly executed, head on a pike.”
His eyes widened. “You mean that literally?”
She sighed, wondering why she’d thought it was wise to open this Pandora’s box, especially now. “Yes. The birds ate her eyes, pecked away at her decaying flesh, until she was only a skin-pocked skull with tufts of hair. An example of what happens when you’re caught going against the hierarchy.”
“Caught?”
Each of his questions underscored how different they were, how little he could understand her. “Tradition is valued here. The same four families have held power for generations. Nobody escapes their birth rank, outside of truly diabolical scheming.”
“I’m not sure I understand what you’re getting at.”
“If she’d succeeded, she would’ve married my father and become my stepmother. People judged her more harshly, not for committing the crime, but for leaving evidence. A whisper of unprovable suspicion probably would have enhanced her reputation.”
Raff let out a slow whistle. “That…is deeply fucked.”
“I know.” She would change that, if she could—so it didn’t require a perfect crime to change your social status.
Lileth still hadn’t moved. The wine was out of her system, now swirling in the IC machine. Dr. Wyeth didn’t appear hopeful; Thalia watched his mouth tighten, the pleat between his brows deepening. She dragged the wolf lord over to join the doctor, unable to stem the questions.
“What have you learned? What are her chances?”
“It’s bad.” The bald words nearly made her knees buckle, but the wolf lord grabbed her elbow and held her up with such casual strength that gratitude suffused her.
I’m glad he’s here.
“Tell me,” she ordered.
“We’ve identified three separate toxins: chokevine, widow’s veil, and some kind of venom. The database can’t tell if it comes from spider, snake, or reptile. I’ve given her the first two antidotes, but if my hypothesis is right…” He hesitated.
“Just fucking speak,” Thalia snapped.
“I believe these substances were specially chosen because they blend into a fast-acting super poison, and if we can’t identify the last one, it’s impossible for us to counteract. And that’s not even the worst news in this situation.”
“Breathe,” Raff said.
His arm went around her because she suddenly had no strength in her legs. How can I lead? I can’t even save Lil.
“Which means…” she whispered.
“I’ve never seen a toxin get into the blood system so fast. At base, this is a designer, next-level Eldritch killer. She has internal bleeding and her organs are failing. We can make her comfortable, but it’s unlikely she’ll awaken. I’m sorry. You should begin the death watch and prepare for the worst.”
“Steady,” Raff murmured, as Thalia sagged into his arms.
She would’ve hit the floor if he hadn’t been holding onto her, and that would’ve strained the marriage knot beyond what it could bear. It might look like superstition to an outsider, but this was already the shittiest wedding day ever. They didn’t need a bad omen on top of an assassination attempt.
“There’s truly no hope?” she asked, all desperate eyes and tissue-thin voice.
The doctor shifted, hesitating, but he finally shook his head. “Even if we could identify the final agent, we couldn’t synthesize an antidote fast enough to save her.”
Thalia straightened, likely trying to compose herself, though her grief was palpable. “Bring in two chairs and make sure she feels no pain. We’ll stay until the end.”
“It’s fine if I’m here too?” Raff expected an argument over stupid wolf customs, a queenly demand for solitude.
“You’re my husband,” she said simply.
Hearing that, it pulled a cord within him, as if she’d twined her fingers in silver strands and tugged them taut. “Would you like to talk?”
“About what?”
“Anything.”
Sighing softly, she shook her head. “I’d rather you did, if you have something that will fill the silence.”
Before he could respond, the medical aide, a burly sort, considering most Eldritch were lanky and lean, brought in the seats she’d requested. “Will these do, Your Highness?”
“Fine, thank you.” Blank words, blank eyes.
She was like a piece of paper devoid of ink. Raff sat first and pulled her with him, or she might’ve hovered beside the chair for hours. They still hadn’t eaten, and he was hungry as fuck, but it would be an asshole move to demand a meal delivered to a death watch. Mentally, he snarled a warning at his cavernous stomach.
“Would you like a personal anecdote or something that will teach you more about Pine Ridge?” Mentally he sifted through his stories. Nothing too dirty or outrageous; it wouldn’t fit the mood. Maybe I could just talk about—
“I don’t care. I’m not trying to be difficult. It’s just…” She trailed off, her voice wispy and broken.
Watching Lileth die was practically killing her too; he could see her pain and despair, smell it on her skin. “Got it. I wish I wasn’t witnessing such a sorrowful occasion, but you’re not alone, Lady Silver.”
“Thalia.”
“That’s your name,” he agreed.
“Call me by it. I’m giving you permission, which is significant among my people. We’re bound at the wrist for the next day, so it seems silly to insist on a title.”
“Ah. It’s pretty. What does it mean?”
“To bloom.”
“Well, sure enough, you’re a flower tightly furled.” In other circumstances, he would’ve added some flirtatious nonsense about petals and dew, but this wasn’t the time. Even he could see that she needed solace, not seduction.
She reached out and took the older woman’s hand, pressing her two over those pale, limp fingers. By virtue of their wedding knot, his hand went with hers, offering comfort to two women, both of whom he barely knew.
“Weren’t you going to tell a story? Lileth even said you have a silver tongue.”
The hell of it was, he couldn’t think of anything to say. “I…think I’m having performance anxiety.”
Thalia tilted her head; she was so out of place in the bare infirmary in
her wedding gown with a formal cascade of hair, blue gems glittering amid silver tresses. “There’s a joke to be made, but I don’t have the heart. Not when she’s dying for me.”
“You said she’s like a mother to you. If you feel that way, she does too. Which is why she’ll go to the afterworld happy she could protect you until the very end.” He was trying to console her, so panic rippled over him when her eyes welled up.
“Faith and fire, why did you have to put it like that?”
“Because that’s how it is.”
She didn’t make a sound, but tears spilled over and trickled down her cheeks. In his life, Raff had made a few women cry, but never like this. They were usually throwing things at him and cursing as they did. Slowly, hesitantly, he took her hand and laced their fingers together. It seemed like a juvenile attempt, not a move that would help in this situation, but she stared at that point of contact with puzzled, blurry eyes.
“Nobody’s ever just…held my hand,” she said faintly.
She’s been fighting alone for longer than you can imagine. Gavriel clearly knew what he was talking about in regard to Princess Thalia. Raff wished like hell that the Noxblade hadn’t already left. From what he’d seen at Ash Valley, the bastard was good at getting answers. Plus, he’d taken Mags with him; she would’ve been such an asset.
“I guess that’s my job now. No escape from the big, bad wolf.”
The IC machine shrieked then, an alarm so shrill that it made Raff flinch. Vitals dropping, it intoned, and the whole medical team came running. He pulled Thalia out of the way, but he knew—and she must too—that even if they won this fight, they couldn’t win the war. She started crying in earnest, something he couldn’t even have imagined. Her face was wet and splotched red, her painstakingly perfect cosmetics smeared down her face as if she were the sad clown everyone avoided at carnivals.
