I sit on the corner of the bed, trying to churn through my thoughts. “Maybe. I’m not sure.”
She waits for me to continue. When I don’t, she nudges me. “What’s wrong? You look . . . frazzled.”
“It’s nothing. Kaidren was there. He almost touched me.”Almost kissed me. I keep that part to myself.
“But he didn’t.” Sef looks confused. “So, there’s no problem.”
“Like I said, it was nothing.” Except that I almost let him. Worse, I think I wanted him to.
“I don’t think I like sweet at all.”
What am I supposed to do with that?
I can’t think about this anymore. I begin shucking layers of warmth to pile into my closet, when I feel something heavy in my coat pocket.
Frowning, I reach for it. It’s smooth and cylindrical. The vial I took from under Kaidren’s bed. The frost that obscured its contents has melted. It’s full of a thick, lilac-colored liquid.
My heart freezes.
Arliss Vale was killed with kishori—a purple liquid.
Sef gasps. “That isn’t . . . ?”
“Poison.” I sound faint, even to myself.
For months, I’ve hunted for anything I can use against Kaidren. At long last, I’ve found it, the kindling I need to burn his world down. Proof he murdered his own father.
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
TRAPPINGS OF POWER
Tonight is the masquerade. One week from now is the third and final trial. Except, if all goes according to plan, there won’t be another trial.
I dress quickly. First, I need to find Sef, then Luc, and make sure both of them are prepared. Today is the day I finally ruin Kaidren Vale, force him out of the Tournament, and secure the throne for Luc. And, eventually, myself.
I open my bedroom door—and halt.
A white box tied with scarlet ribbon rests against the wall. There’s no one nearby. Someone delivered this, clearly, but they didn’t knock to make sure I got it.
Frowning, I carry it inside and set it on my bed. There’s a note attached to the top, written in neat green ink.
Shadow Skulker,
I used to put these on and dream of being the most powerful person in the room too.
Kaidren
P.S. Hope you’ll save me a dance tonight.
I’ve been avoiding him. It’s for the best and I know it, but that doesn’t stop my stomach from fluttering as I remove the box’s lid to reveal the gift inside. Honorate robes.
At first glance, I think they’re the same ones I found beneath his bed. The old, worn ones he must keep for sentimental reasons. They’re not. On these robes, the golden thread hasn’t lost its shimmer and there are no frays. These are brand-new.
They’re even nicer than the ones Luc gifted me, that I wear for chamber in my attic. He claimed it was the best he could do, and I was grateful for the gesture.This . . .
My heart softens. Cracks fissure the walls I’ve built around myself.
Steel and ice, I sternly remind myself. I can’t let this small act of kindness affect me.
