"I remember." Briar's reflection looked pale despite the rich color of the dress. The black lace at her throat did little to hide the fading bite mark, the edges still tinged withyellow and purple. She wondered if Malus would comment on it. Wondered if he'd add another one tonight.
"When he's ready to feed," Síocháin continued, "you'll have only moments. Drink the bloodshade, let him bite, and within minutes he'll be unconscious."
"And then we free Eliam."
"And then you run." Síocháin met her eyes in the mirror. "Don't wait for me. Don't look back. Get Lord Eliam and go."
Briar's throat tightened. "Síocháin—"
"I've made my peace with what may come." Her voice was steady, but her hands paused in Briar's hair for just a moment. “Don’t throw away your chance at freedom because of sentiment.”
"It's not sentiment. It's—"
"It's unnecessary." Síocháin resumed pinning. "I'll create a distraction if needed, delay any pursuit."
Briar wanted to argue, wanted to insist they would all escape together, but the words felt hollow. She didn't know what would happen tonight. Didn't know if the plan would work or if she'd end up back in that throne room, spread open for the court's entertainment while Malus punished her for her defiance.
She pushed the thought away. She couldn't afford to think like that.
"There." Síocháin stepped back. "You're ready."
Briar looked at her reflection. The woman staring back at her looked regal, dangerous even. The emerald gown made her skin glow and her eyes look darker, deeper. The high lace collar gave her an air of untouchability even as the corset pushed her breasts up in obvious invitation. She looked like someone who had chosen to be here, who wanted this.
She looked like a lie made flesh.
"How do you feel?" Síocháin asked.
Briar stood, the full skirt rustling around her legs. The vial pressed against her ribs, a constant reminder of what she carried, what she planned to do.
"Terrified," she admitted. "But I'm not going to let that stop me."
Síocháin's expression softened with something that might have been pride. She looked like she wanted to say something but they were interrupted by a knock came at the door.
"Lady Briar," a servant's voice called. "Lord Malus is ready for you."
Síocháin squeezed her hand once and then slipped out through the servant's entrance without another word.
Briar took one last look at herself in the mirror. Green silk. Black lace. A hidden vial and a desperate plan.
This time, it would work. It had to.
The walk to the dining room felt endless. Each step echoed in the empty corridor, each heartbeat louder than the last. She kept one hand pressed lightly against her bodice, feeling the small shape of the vial beneath the lace. Still there. Still hidden.
The servant stopped before a set of heavy wooden doors and stepped aside without a word.
Briar drew a breath and entered.
The dining room glowed with amber light from dozens of candles, their flames reflecting off crystal and silver. A small table had been set for two, intimate, too close. The smell hit her first—roasted meat, wine, something sweet that made her stomach turn.
Malus stood by the window, his back to her. The coat he wore was exquisite, deep burgundy velvet with copper roses embroidered along the hem and cuffs, the metallic thread catching the candlelight with every small movement. The layered vest beneath matched perfectly, and the dark trousers and polished boots completed the image of a king dressed for conquest.
"Punctual," he said without turning. "I appreciate that."
She moved into the room, the emerald silk of her skirt rustling with each step. The black lace felt suddenly too thin, too revealing, despite the high collar framing her throat. Her heart hammered so hard she was sure he could hear it.
He turned, and his expression shifted. His eyes traveled from the sheer lace at her throat down to the structured corset, lingering on the way the black pattern contrasted against the deep green silk beneath, then slowly rose back up to her face. Something flickered across his features—annoyance, maybe anger.
"Interesting choice," he said, voice carefully neutral.
