Page 108 of Shifter King

WroOth had made plans.Plans upon plans. Psychic wine wasn’t something he’d ever been fond of even though he had never consumed it himself. It never did anything except bring about misery and sorrow, whether in the hours immediately following its consumption or in the ones that followed when the victim had time to remember all that happened and then feel the humiliation and grief that always came with it. For a brief moment, he'd thought perhaps those plans would not be necessary.

Hatred, cold, slick and fierce, welled within him. It must have flashed in his eyes because Zorna's expression grew more somber, "I have kept my word and gone beyond as well. It is not just psychic wine. Other components have been added to ensure the accuracy of the results."

Sweet falona, what else had they put in it? And there in the back, just beyond the curtains, there was another robed figure with a thin spike.

Zorna motioned to Amelia again, her smile sickly sweet. "Come, dear Neyeb. It is time. I am so pleased that you have made this choice. The one who would otherwise perform the lobotomization is not nearly so skilled as my own personal physician. But as you have pointed out, we cannot delay."

He leaped forward onto the stage, sweeping out her arm. "Such a high honor. Such graciousness. As her attendant, I should be permitted to taste it to ensure it is not poisoned."

Zorna scowled. "That is not permitted. It is bad luck and improper to poison a bride. Continue to interfere, and you will lose all favor. Stick her again to remind her."

The guard stepped up, put his hand on his shoulder, and stabbed him swiftly.

He winced. Damn these poison blades and damn these Bealorns. He shielded the cut as he gritted his teeth. Healing was even slower now.

"You understand?" Zorna asked from her throne, forming the words slowly and deliberately.

Yes. He understood.

He held up one finger. "Then may I ask one more small favor of her glorious Majesty? May I give a blessing to the bride? It is a bold and dangerous thing for someone to offer to let all their inhibitions fall away."

That slow smile spread on Zorna's face again as she nodded. "Very well." She looked out upon the crowd as if to assess their approval. A few applauded, the claps slow and uneven. "Make it pretty."

He lifted the goblet off the tray and turned to face Amelia. As he held it with one hand, he slid the pearl free with the other. He stepped in front of her and slipped it into the thick murky liquid.

The way Amelia looked at him cut deeper than those blades and burned more than the poison. Fear. So much fear. Tears welling up in those big dark eyes.

And yet some trust as well. Somehow.

She just had to live. If she could get through this, she would be all right. And she could. She would.

He spoke softly. "May you be blessed, dear one, with every breath you draw, may you always hold fast to the love that makes you strong, may any cruelty fashioned against you fall apart, may all sorrows turn to joy, and may you always find your way back into the arms of those who love you forever and always." Emotion stung his own eyes. "Always find your way back and choose to live, dear heart."

Her lips trembled as she picked the bronze goblet up with both hands. "I will always find my way back," she whispered, looking him in the eye. Her gaze dropped to the goblet.

The silence had grown heavy. Oppressively so.

She squeezed her eyes shut and then set it to her mouth, gulping it down as fast as she could. She grimaced and slammed the goblet back on the tray, then wiped her lips with the back of her hand. The servant backed away, hand grasping the stem.

He reached out to steady her. "It's going to be all right, Amelia," he whispered. "You can do this. I will protect you."

She nodded tightly, her eyes still shut as if that would somehow weaken the wine's grip when it took her.

Perhaps it did. He wished he could see what was happening in her mind as the sweat formed on her brow. What was happening? Was it there? He stepped closer.

Then it came. Not with a scream or a sob. With a slackening of her muscles and the falling of her hands. Then she opened her eyes. A small smile formed on her lips though her stare was vacant. As if she wasn't there at all.

His breath caught in his throat.

No. She was in there. She was. He clenched his jaw. She had to be.

* * *

The wine tastedlike a bad merlot mixed with bog water, its aftertaste even more vile with the chalky remains of that pearl WroOth had dropped into it. She closed her eyes.

Her stomach churned. She tried to wrap her arms around herself, but they didn't move. Her eyes—they wouldn't open.

The darkness grew heavier. Her heart raced faster. Something pressed against her shoulders.