If he loved her… would she wear it?
Did she love him? Or was she just enjoying being wanted?
He hadn’t quite said he loved her. Did she dare believe that Nikias could love anyone that wasn’t Faustina? That he could love her?
Aimilia tucked the necklace into her pocket and pushed herself up, muscles stiff and groaning as she moved to examine the tray and the ruined tea set, a blush staining her cheeks as the memory of what had broken it flooded her again.
If Nikias knew just how close he was to her putting that necklace on, he wouldn’t let up. Aimilia wouldn’t be able to resist him, and it would all be over.
If this was a trap, she was right where he wanted her to be.
If it wasn’t…
She needed to be more careful. She couldn’t afford to give him hope. Could she let herself love him?
Could she be resigned to being second best to Faustina for the rest of her life? Nikias couldn’t love her the way he’d loved Faustina. That was an unchangeable fact. His love for her was a force of nature.
If Aimilia let herself keep falling in love with him, just how badly would this devastate her? When the truth came out…
Nikias was going to break her heart.
If Aimilia let herself love Nikias, it was going to devastate her twice as much as when she’d loved Gavril. She’d survived when Gavril couldn’t return her feelings for him, but Nikias…
She couldn’t stop the part of her that was desperate for Hypatia’s premonitions to be wrong. She couldn’t stop the part of her that was holding her breath, waiting for Nikias to call heramataand not when he was convinced she was his first wife.
Aimilia was brought out of her thoughts as she looked at the liquid pooling in the cup’s saucer. The sunlight reflected off the dark liquid, long since having gone cold. The color…
A closely guarded secret of House Mitis was the technique they used to brew the plant native to their lands to create a vitae-replenishing tea.
An even more closely guarded secret by the main branch was the technique they used to brew the plant into a tea that would sedate someone, and if made strong enough and used repeatedly, it could destroy a person.
The average Runai would never even know the difference until it was too late. Or even in the months following. The king certainly had never figured it out. They tasted exactly the same. They looked almost exactly the same.
Aimilia, however, was one of the few alive who had enough experience with both in order to tell them apart.
But even she could only do so if she was looking for it and had the right lighting.
Aimilia took her pinky and touched the cool tea. The color was off.
She lifted her hand and let the droplet roll down and fall back to the tray.
Poison. And if she had to hazard a guess, strong enough to knock her out for the rest of the tournament but not strong enough to leave lasting damage.
So much for winning fairly.
Aimilia left the tray on the ground, resisting the urge to kick it.
It wouldn’t take her uncle long to return, expecting her to be unconscious so he could clean up the evidence. She didn’t want him to know that she’d discovered his attempt to take her out. So it needed to stay an accident.
But that only strengthened Aimilia’s resolve.
She would stay the course and become Head of House Mitis. Cyprian would pay for this.
When a healer finally came by, Aimilia explained the mess by saying she’d accidentally knocked it all over with her bad arm.
The healer had only hummed and said she would send for a servant to take care of it, but otherwise Aimilia was fine; she just needed to ensure she rested between then and the next event in a day.
Aimilia promised to do so, eagerly escaping the healer’s wing, pausing only to inquire about her cousin. Still no news.
