VALERIE.
I smiled at the maid the next morning as if I didn’t know she was slowly poisoning me. She bowed with practiced ease, setting my breakfast down on the table—warm bread, seasoned meats, herbal tea, and sliced fruit. Her name was Lissa. I remembered her because she was always quiet, Obedient, never made eye contact. Now I knew why.
“Thank you, Lissa,” I said sweetly, picking up the spoon. “Stay. I may need help dressing.”
She flinched slightly—barely noticeable to anyone else, but I saw it. That hesitation.
That fear.
“As you wish, my lady.”
I took a bite of the food, slowly chewing. I didn’t swallow. Instead, I reached for the tea. That’s where it is, I thought. That’s where she hides the slowing agents.
I sipped. It tasted floral, soft, innocent. Poison never came with fang
