I crossed the carpet carefully.
Each step quiet.
I reached the small table beside him and set the tray down.
The faint clink of porcelain broke the silence.
“Here.”
I stepped back slightly.
Waited.
His eyes dropped to the cup. Then back to me.
“Take a sip.”
I frowned, incredulous. “What—do you think I poisoned the coffee?”
“I don’t trust you, Elena. Never have,” he said, calm but razor-sharp. “
“But I need to know—just a fraction, enough—that I can rely on you. That you won’t strike in my sleep. That you won’t be bought by my enemies.”
“Prove it.”
“Take the drink.”
I lifted an eyebrow, voice defiant. “So, tell me, which would be easier for me? Strangling you in your sleep... or poisoning you?”
“Poisoning me.”
“You can’t kill me while I sleep. The nightmares don’t let me. Now drink.”
“Enough hesitation.”
I drew a slow breath and stepped forward.
I lifted the cup, fingers wrapping around the porcelain, steadying it.
My gaze met his, and for a heartbeat I wondered—was this truly a test, or something else entirely?
That hesitation was all it took. My grip faltered.
The cup tilted.
Dark liquid arced through the air, searing the carpet as it soaked into the fibers like ink that refused to be erased.
Porcelain slipped from my fingers.
It hit the floor with a sharp, final crack and shattered.
The sharp crack echoed through the room, louder than it should have been.
Louder than I wanted it to be.
For a moment, everything froze.
My breath. My thoughts.
