“This reaction. Did it ever happen in childhood?”
“Once, I think. After we went peach picking in the outer farms and ate a basket together. But I don’t know how—”
“He doesn’t need an antidote. It’s not poison.” Eli flips Dominik onto his back. Death helps hold the fae down, and suddenly Eli is rubbing his hands together, static sparking between them. He presses a hand to Dominik’s thigh and jolts him.
Dominik gasps. Eli once again forms a circle with his fingers and frames the fae’s lips. Air pours down his throat, and his chest expands, his body going limp with relief.
“Adrenaline and air,” Eli says. “We need stinging nettle to reduce the reaction.” By the time he finishes his sentence, Maxian has laced stinging nettle leaves into his palm from the Healing garden. “Moisten them, please.”
A water glass flies across the room, landing in the king’s hand. He drops them in the water, handing it to Eli, who warms the liquid. The executioner sits Dominik up, and they serve him the tea. As he drinks, Eli pulses Healing magic across his skin. The hives reduce. The rash recedes.
Dominik lifts his head, his silver hair plastered to his clammy forehead. His gaze finds me, sprawled on the floor across from him.
“You,” he spits. “How did you know?”
“I—”
“No one knows of my reactions.”
“I d-didn’t,” I say, the words wrenching out of me from Maxian’s magic.
“There weren’t any peaches on the menu tonight,” the executioner says.
I think of Dominik’s hands, his mouth, the hives. As it dawns on me, the king voices my thoughts.
“Your body oil,” he says. “It smells of peach.”
My mouth dries out.
Peach,Kassandra said.For Dominik.
My body trembles as new meaning recasts her instructions. She wasn’t priming me for Dominik. She was using me to stop him, to end him so that she could be free and I could take the fall.
House of Illusion is ripping itself apart. And they’re using me to do it.
Chapter Twenty-two
I stare at my bloodstain onthe floor. The bandage scratches my skin, the ointment cooling the wound. Eli took Dominik to his chambers to watch over him while Lila cleaned up, and the executioner and the king interrogate me.
“I truly did not know of his reactions,” I repeat.
“And the contents of the oil?”
The king forces the truth from my tongue. “I didn’t know.”
“And where did you find this oil?” Maxian asks beside me, rubbing at the scowl on his face.
“A…room.”
“What room?” Death grits out.
I don’t reply at first. Then the magic yanks at my tongue—
Pebbles fill my mouth and still, the Reign magic rips at me, the sensations clashing. I gag, spittle dripping down my chin. When I wipe with my hand, it comes away red.
“Shit.” The king paces.
“Your magic conflicts with an oath,” the executioner mutters. “Can you push through it?”
