“If Siren was a changeling, she couldn’t have died of nightshade poison.”
“Nightshade poisoning?” Adom’s eyebrows shoot up. “She died of a fever.”
I shake my head. “Rhydian said the family lied to cover the truth. Her father poisoned her with nightshade because of…” I look at Adom and feel heat scorching my cheeks.
“Rhydian?” he asks, his face a calm mask, dissonant with the rage in his voice.
I am bungling this meeting with the king as badly as the first. “What if Siren lived?”
Adom is unusually quiet. I keep glancing his direction, waiting for his anger to boil over. He’s so unlike Rhydian who, as much as he talks about logic and reason, can’t contain his feelings for even a moment. In contrast, Adom is well-practiced in the art of hiding emotion.
Siles tilts his head toward Adom.
