“All this time, and with everything last night … you did mean to kill me all along.”
“No! No, it’s not poison. It’s just amenite, a truth potion. It was just meant to make you admit …”
“Amenite?” His eyebrows drew together. “Magdala! Amenite ishighlypoisonous.”
“It’s a truth potion!” she protested.
“Yes,” he said. “And then after you tell the truth, it kills you. Why do you think they don’t use it in courtrooms?”
It was as though Magdala stood on thin ice and someone had brought a sledgehammer down between her feet. The earth seemed to shatter. “No. No, that’s not what I meant to do.”
“What the hell did you mean to do?” he demanded.
“There’s an antidote, isn’t there? There has to be!”
Asherton curled forward, drawing up one leg and resting his forehead on his knee. His shoulders rose and fell with each labored breath. “You need to get rid of the knife.”
“But what about the antidote …” Magdala’s head spun; the walls seemed to warp inward. “Surely, Zephyr will know what to do …”
He shook his head. “Get rid of the knife. If Zeph catches you with it ...”
“I can be quick …”
“MAGS!” he cried, looking up at her desperately. His lips were brushed with blue. “There’s not enough time! You’re holding the tainted weapon in your hand!”
She stared at him blankly, uncomprehending.
“If you don’t get rid of that knife, Zeph will see to it you hang! Do you understand? You have murdered the crown prince of Allagesh and you will hang!”
With a gasp, Magdala dropped the knife like it was a snake.
“Run, now, go!” Asherton picked it up and handed it to her. “Go to the sea and throw it in …”
“But Ash …”
“Then give yourself a wound of some kind and find Zephyr. Be sure he’s with you when you discover my body here …”
“Ash, I can’t …”
“Say an assassin did it. They’ll never notice this little scratch, and they won’t be able to trace it back to you.”
“Ash!” she cried. “I can’t just leave you here!”
“GO! NOW!” He pushed her.
“I’m not leaving you to die!”
“Go!” he shouted. “NOW!”
He was right—she would hang. It was her knife, covered in poison. Zephyr would see her hang in the Largotian town square.
Terror overcame her, and she took the knife and ran. But as she tore down the front steps and made for the trees, she glimpsed Zephyr in the greenhouse, his shadow moving behind the glass. If she reached him, maybe he knew of an antidote. Maybe he could save Asherton.
Swearing, Magdala sprinted back toward the greenhouse. She burst through the door, skidding on the damp floor.
Zephyr looked up. “What is it?” he demanded, dropping a tray of mushrooms.
“Amenite,” she blurted. “I didn’t know it was poisonous.”
