“Her name was Alina.”
He let out a short, hollow laugh—void of joy, void of anything but bitter mockery.
Alina.
My hands pressed into the table, steadying myself against the fury crashing through me. He was talking about Alina.
Which meant the child she wanted to poison… was Olivia.
A murderous impulse coiled in my gut, the urge to rip Costa limb from limb nearly overpowering.
Marcellious must have noticed—I felt his subtle shake of the head—a silent warning.
I dragged in a breath, forcing my pulse to steady.
“So,” Costa continued, licking his lips like a cat savoring a freshly caught rat, “I struck a bargain with her… with Alina.”
I gritted my teeth.
“I told her,” Costa went on, his voice almost giddy with dark delight, “to give me a child, and in return, I’d help her poison her daughter.”
The world tilted.
I clenched the edge of the table so hard my knuckles turned white.
Again, Marcellious shook his head—his message clear—Not now.
I forced my jaw to unlock, my voice coming out steady despite the white-hot rage burning inside me.
“And did she oblige? Did she give you a child?”
Costa’s lips curled into a secretive smile. “Oh yes, she did. Alina bore me a son.”
My blood turned to ice.
Another sibling?
How many were there?
I flexed my hands, trying to keep them from shaking. “And where is this son today?”
Costa arched a brow as if the question amused him. “My son?”
“Yes,” I said, keeping my tone neutral despite the fire in my veins. “You just told me you and Alina had a son.”
“Oh, him.”
Costa leaned back, exhaling dramatically. Then, with a wicked smirk, he said, “I’m afraid he didn’t make it, either.”
I stilled.
His smirk widened.
“I experimented on him with my poisons,” he said as if it were the most natural thing in the world. “I thought he was strong enough to endure, but I was wrong.”
He lifted his tankard and drained the last of his ale.
I sat frozen, reeling.
