It’s the split second I need.
While bent, hidden by the tablecloth, I pull the tissue from my clutch before sitting up quickly.
Konstantin is focused on the doorway, waiting for the server.
I reach across the table with my left hand, pretending to reach for the salt cellar near his plate. With my right, I hover over his wine glass. There’s only a mouthful of dark red liquid left at the bottom.
I flick the tissue open, and the blue powder falls into the wine and dissolves instantly, swallowed by the dark Cabernet.
My hands fold neatly in my lap as the monster turns his head, attention back on me.
My heart is thumping so hard I swear he must hear it.
The server arrives with a fresh fork. Konstantin takes it and hands it to me.
"Clumsy," he murmurs. "Are you nervous?"
"Tired," I say, taking the fork. "Like I said."
"Then let us toast to rest," he says.
He picks up his glass. He doesn't refill it but swirls the small amount of liquid at the bottom.
Yes,I think.Yes. Drink it.
He brings the rim to his lips and tilts his head back.
But he he freezes, the glass hovering an inch from his mouth.
My blood turns to ice.
He slowly lowers the glass, thought he doesn't put it down. He simply holds it, staring into the dark liquid before he finally looks at me.
His eyes are not cold anymore.
"You know," he says softly, "my father taught me many things before he died. How to shoot. How to fight. How to lead."
He leans forward, resting his elbows on the table, the glass still in his hand.
"But the most important thing he taught me was to never trust a gift."
My mouth goes dry. "It's... it's wine, Konstantin."
"Is it?"
He brings the glass to his nose and sniffs it.
"It smells..." he pauses, watching me squirm. "...bitter."
"It's the tannins," I whisper. "It's a heavy red."
"No," he says. "It smells like betrayal."
He stands abruptly. The chair scrapes loudly against the floor, the sound echoing like a gunshot.
I shrink back. "Konstantin..."
He ignores me, rounding the table until he stops beside my chair.
