Briar waited several minutes to ensure he was gone and then crossed to the vanity. She knelt, reaching beneath the heavy wooden frame to the small hollow she'd discovered in the ornate carving. Her fingers found the vial where she'd tucked it away and pulled it free. She turned it over in her fingers. Such a small thing. Such a fragile hope.
But it was all she had.
Síocháin arrived an hour before sunset, her expression carefully neutral.
"I confirmed it myself," she said before Briar could ask. "His private dining room. No court, no audience. Just the two of you."
The relief that washed through Briar was almost dizzying. She sank onto the edge of the bed, her hands pressing flat against the mattress to steady herself. "You're certain?"
"I watched the servants set the table. Two places. The wine I prepared is already there, marked with a nick on the label." Síocháin moved to the wardrobe, opening the heavy doors. "Now, let's get you ready."
She reached for a gown in deep burgundy, the color of dying leaves and autumn wine—Malus's colors. Her fingers brushed the fabric.
"Not that one."
Síocháin paused, glancing back at her. "This would please him."
"I know." Briar stood, crossing to the wardrobe. Her eyes scanned the options until she found what she was looking for. Deep emerald silk with an overlay of black lace at the bodice, the pattern intricate and dark against the green beneath. A high collar of sheer lace, structured corset, and a full skirt embroidered with gold leaves and delicate vines.
Eliam's color.
She pulled it from the wardrobe. "This one."
Síocháin's expression shifted—concern, maybe worry. "He'll notice. He'll be angry."
"I know." Briar reached out and touched the fabric, cool silk sliding beneath her fingertips. "That's the point."
"You want to anger him? After what happened at the feast?"
"I want him to ask why I'm wearing it." She looked up at Síocháin, something hard settling in her chest. "And when he does, I'll tell him it's a reminder. A slap in his brother's face. That I chose to wear Eliam's colors while giving myself to Malus."
Understanding flickered in Síocháin's ancient eyes. "You'll turn defiance into flattery."
"I'll turn it into proof." Briar stood, beginning to undress. "He's still testing me. If I can convince him I hate Eliam enough to wear green while seducing his brother..." She let the sentence trail off.
Síocháin helped her out of her simple day dress, then lifted the emerald gown. "Arms up."
The fabric slid over her head, settling cool against her skin. Síocháin moved behind her to work the laces of the corset, pulling them snug but not painfully tight.
"The vial," Briar said. "It needs to go in the bodice. Somewhere I can reach it easily but he won't find it if he..." She couldn't finish the sentence.
"Here." Síocháin's fingers found a spot along the inner edge of the corset, just below her left breast. "There's boning on either side. The vial will sit flat between them, and the lace overlay will hide any shape. You can reach it through the neckline without being obvious."
Briar retrieved the vial from its hiding spot beneath the vanity and handed it to Síocháin, who tucked it carefully into place. The glass was cool against her skin, a small hard presence she could feel with every breath.
"Can you feel it?" Síocháin asked.
"Yes."
"Can you reach it?"
Briar slipped her fingers along the edge of her neckline, finding the vial easily. She could pull it free in seconds if needed. "Yes."
"Good." Síocháin stepped back, surveying her work. "Sit. I need to do your hair."
Briar settled onto the vanity stool, watching in the mirror as Síocháin began to work. The older fae's fingers were deft, weaving sections into an elaborate updo that left her neck exposed. Small pins studded with dark gems disappeared into the arrangement, catching the candlelight.
"The wine will be there this time, to help you relax," Síocháin said as she worked. "But don't drink too much. You need to stay sharp enough to time the bloodshade properly."
