“I’m not drunk,” Amril said. “I’ve been drunk many times before, and this is different. Someone poisoned me.”
“I know,” Amron said. “But I don’t think it was your wife.”
Amril paused on his way to bed. “Who was it then?”
“That’s what I’m trying to find out. In the meantime, as soon as you feel you can stand on your own, rush to the Seragian embassy and apologize to Aratea.”
Amril frowned, but allowed himself to be led away.
“I’m going to find my father, he needs to know what’s going on,” Amron told Darin. “Send two dozen guards to the embassy and watch over them until dawn. I’m afraid something might happen.”
“I’ll go there myself,” Darin said.
Amron nodded, while his gaze searched the room, stopping—finally—on Melia. “A word, please,” he said.
The relief of seeing him drained as a tide of panic filled her veins. “Where were you?” she asked.
He ignored her question. “It was you,” he whispered.
“I don’t understand,” she stammered.
Amron grabbed her shoulders. His grip wasn’t rough, but it was firm as he gave her a brief shake. “It was you who put something in his drink, wasn’t it? Down in the great hall, while he was dancing?”
She winced.
“I haven’t told Amril or Darin yet, but you must tell me what was in there.” His thumbs dug beneath her collarbones. “Is it dangerous? Is it going to harm Amril?”
“No.” She shook her head violently. “It’s not dangerous, I swear.”
“Why did you put it in his drink? Who gave it to you?”
She shook her head, tears blurring her vision.
“It was your father, wasn’t it?”
“He said it was just a sleeping draft.”
“But it wasn’t, was it?” he asked. “This is arrowfoil, I smelled it on him, and something else, you saw how sick he is. What was in there?”
“Arrowfoil, lobelia, vervain, that’s all I know, I swear.” She was crying hard now, even though he’d let go of her. “It just made him sick, nothing else. He’ll vomit everything he drank tonight, but he won’t be harmed.”
He took a step back. “Melia, what is the point of this, what does your father want? His men pretending to be Seragians, attacking me in the street? Poisoning my brother on his wedding night? Does he think we’re going to break the peace treaty over this?”
“He can’t forgive the Seragians. He won’t forgive,” Melia said.
“Nobody is asking him to forgive. But this? This is treason, and I have to go to my father and tell him about it.”
The broken shards inside her head connected briefly to form a picture of utter chaos. Her father’s actions and their consequences. “No, Amron, please, he’s going to kill him.”
Amron paused, weighing the options. “He’s going to find out one way or another. By morning, Darin will piece it together. Whatever your father intends to do, he needs to stop.”
But all she could think about was the king’s cold, harsh gaze, his complete unwillingness to show mercy. “Don’t betray him, please, I’m begging you.”
Amron rubbed a spot between his brows with his index finger.“I suppose nothing irreversibly bad has happened yet. There’s still time to fix this.” He laid his hand on her shoulder again, gentler this time. “Go to him, go now. Tell him to leave Abia immediately, go to Syr, and bury himself there in the red dust until everybody forgets about him. And then come back to me. I won’t mention you, I won’t reveal what you’ve done. We’ll explain Amril’s behavior somehow, apologize to the carevna, and the wedding will proceed as planned.”
“Will you forgive me?” she asked.
“You are my wife.” He squeezed her shoulder briefly. “Go now, hurry, before this escalates.”
