The great hall was quiet when the maid slipped in with her head bowed and her footsteps light as feathers across the polished stone. The silver tray in her hands barely trembled, though her heart thundered like a war drum beneath her ribs. She had one job. One drink. One lie to pour and she did it well. The goblet found its place beside king kaelen's right hand as he pored over reports from the eastern watchtower. He barely looked up, barely even noticed the way the air shifted. The scent faint, floral, something softer than wine and sweeter than roses twined into the room like silk. He picked up the cup without any thought and drank the wine. The potion worked fast. Really fast. It slide down his throat like warm honey, then burned like summer lightning in his chest. For a moment, his vis
