We shared a cautious look in agreement.
I set the mug down. “No one drink it before—Ford!”
Too late. The liquid was already streaming down his chin, his cup raised high, throat bobbing until the contents ran dry.
“Well,” Ronan exhaled, letting his weight drop across a heap of velvet pillows with little care. “Now, we wait.”
With her raven perched above her, Nezra eased herself into a corner, arms tucked across her chest.
Wiping the moisture from his face, Ford slammed his empty mug with the others still untouched. “Wait for what?” He plucked a bushel of green grapes, feeding himself straight from the vine.
Inessa and Kanoa stood by the tent flap, flanking either side, while Killian stretched out with a groan, boots kicked aside.
Ronan smirked, tipping his chin toward his infamous hound. “To see if it’s poisoned.”
Wells hesitantly approached the table, body vanishing and returning, as though he couldn’t keep hold of his own skin. His throat bobbed, stomach grumbling softly.
Elysian was already nose-deep in half the food, scenting it all like a predator. Not like it mattered. Poison rarely carried a scent.
I always counted on that.
“Oh my...” Elva’s voice broke in. She held up a small pear, its gilded skin catching the stained-glass glow. “Surely you don’t think they would?” She set it carefully back on the tray, her fingers brushing down the elegant line in her neck.
Elysian’s posture eased as he looked at Ronan. “I don’t smell anything.”
“You never know,” Nezra countered, a spark of mischief sparkling in her eyes. “I’ve known plenty who swore the same until their graves proved otherwise.”
The grapes tumbled from Ford’s hand, scattering across the rugs as his face went white. He clutched his throat, gasping. “Oh gods. Am I—Verena!”
I bit the inside of my cheek to smother the laugh, my shoulders trembling as I tried, and failed, to keep a straight face. “What would you havemedo, suck the poison from you?”
His hazel eyes widened. “You’re a healer!”
It was a wonder he hadn’t fallen to his knees, begging Vivianna herself to spare him.
I collapsed into a nest of pillows, their softness swallowing me whole, a groan of relief escaping my lips. “It’s a waiting game now.”
Elva caught Ford’s arm, tugging him down until she could raise onto her toes and press a light kiss to his cheek.
I nearly howled. Of course Elva couldn’t bear to watch anyone suffer. Even when the suffering was Ford’s melodrama.
“They’re teasing you, Ford,” she soothed. “Elysian smelled nothing. We’re safe.”
She gave his arm one last reassuring squeeze before drifting back toward the laden table. The pear she had abandoned earlier found its way into her hand again, alongside a small loaf of bread. She moved with that delicate grace she always carried, then stretched herself across one of the cots, hair spilling over the pillow.
Ford stood frozen, cheeks blooming crimson. Then he shook himself, tugged at his tunic, and grumbled under his breath, “Well, not the worst way I’ve nearly died.”
But the levity couldn’t mask the restlessness that had begun to settle among us.
“We can’t linger here,” I said. “Some of the pixies were whispering about the Bale drawing nearer.”
“That,” Callum added, “and the longer we delay, the more likely the Brights will find us.”
Ford popped another grape into his mouth. “Besides, pixies are mischievous and unpredictable. Cute, sure. But mischievously cute. Some of them have already tried to snatch my dagger,twice.”
Ronan stretched deeper into the pillows. “That’s because they don’t want outsiders here too long. Their freedom depends on staying unseen.” He bit into a date, watching the way my teeth grazed my lip before holding up another and tossing it my way. “We move before we become a liability,” he said. “To them, or ourselves.”
Callum cleared his throat, a map unfurled across his knees. “If the Bale is drawing nearer, we're losing more time than we predicted. Its trail has already cut through half the southern pass. If we head west, we risk walking straight into it.”
