Lyra’s POV
Time completely fractured, slowing to an agonizing, microscopic crawl as the Alpha King tilted the silver goblet toward his mouth.
Watching the ruby-red liquid slosh against the rim, I knew the violently crimson, undetectable swirls of ancient witch-blood were mere inches from Fenrir’s lips.
If a single drop of that deeply forbidden magic touched his tongue, it would instantly recognize that he was not the intended vessel. Bypassing the biological veil, it would act as a lethal, concentrated poison against the Prime’s system.
He would choke on his own blood before the glass even hit the floor, and I would be publicly executed for the assassination of the King.
But if I simply slapped the cup away, the potion would spill, ruining my only chance to mask the scent currently te
