Brinna’s hand went to her throat. Her mouth opened on a sound that did not come. Her knees buckled.
Sabine caught her before she hit the ground.
“Lysa.”
Lysa was already there, dropping to the floor, pressing two fingers beneath Brinna’s jaw.
“Weak pulse. Breathing shallow.” She leaned close to Brinna’s mouth. “Not poison fast enough to kill. Something else.”
Sabine held Brinna’s head in her lap.
The girl’s lashes fluttered once, then stilled.
The chamber door opened.
An attendant appeared, saw Brinna on the floor, and screamed.
Then the bride wing erupted.
Physician Tal arrived first.
Then two wardens.
Then four guards.
Then Warden Heskar with his gray beard, cold eyes, and the procedural calm of a man who could turn panic into paperwork before anyone thought to stop him.
“No one leaves the bride wing,” Heskar said. “No one enters without authorization. Secure Lady Sabine’s chamber.”
Sabine stood near the hearth, hands clenched at her sides, while Tal knelt beside Brinna. Lysa had been forced two paces back by a guard, though she looked ready to bite through the man’s wrist if he touched her again.
“This cup was meant for me,” Sabine said.
“That will be determined,” Heskar replied.
“Brinna told me she found a key. She came here frightened. She reached for the wrong cup.”
“That will also be determined.”
Sabine understood him immediately.
He was not dismissing her.
He was containing the facts until someone powerful decided which shape they should be allowed to keep.
Tal looked up from Brinna. “She needs to be moved to the infirmary.”
“Is she dying?” Sabine asked.
“No. But she is deeply unconscious.”
“From what?”
Tal’s expression tightened. His gaze flicked once to Heskar.
“I will know more after examination.”
Heskar gestured to two attendants. “Take Lady Brinna under physician custody. Two guards with her. Record every person who enters the infirmary.”
