“Regardless, I cannot regret hearing you play. It was… I feel honored to have experienced it.” His gaze was steady, even as color rose to her cheeks. “You miss her.”
“Every day.” Mireille’s words were soft, barely a whisper.
“Tell me about her. Did she cherish growing up in Norcliffe as dearly as you?”
Candlelight glinted in his dark hair, still damp from the pond. The answer danced on the tip of her tongue, eager to share in the stories of her mother, stories she had rarely been able to reveal, but there were things she must keep to herself. Things that could be used against her. Things that might slam shut the narrow door that they’d opened. “Speaking of her is painful.” The words were not exactly a lie, she had truly wanted to tell him, but that was a danger in itself.
“Of course. Forgive me.” Expression suddenly guarded, Alder offered his arm. It was as if he had forgotten, as if he had been there only for her. And it was over once more. “I should escort you to your chamber. Surely Thomas is asleep by now.”
He wouldn’t be, but Mireille took the prince’s arm anyway, casting one last longing glance at the sculpture as he led her from the room. The orange blossoms weren’t some ancient magic, nor did they bear hidden symbolism. They simply revealed what Alder cherished, and the memories that kept him company in the long hours of the night.
CHAPTER20
The following evening’s dinner conversations with Alder had been noticeably stilted. Mireille had the sense the sands of his curse clock would run out as they stood before an altar beneath the moon—the fae were a theatrical sort—which meant that time was nearly up for both of them, as well as for their kingdoms. And if the queen obtained so much more power, she would be impossible to stop.
Maeve’s offered bargain had clearly only been a precaution in the event that her assassination attempts failed. The queen must have believed Mireille and Alder could fall in love. If she had not, she would have nothing to fear. How strange that love was the thing a monster feared most.
Alder, for his part, had ordered Mireille watched almosttooclosely. Her first moment of peace came when Thomas had gone to the kitchens to fetch a snack. Alone in her chambers, she leaned back into the settee. But she’d no more than let out a sigh before the door opened to Noal, pushing a small, wheeled cart bedecked with cake.
Mireille frowned. “I thought we’d decided on the ceremony menu already.”
Noal wheeled the cart to her, then took a step back. “Apparently the others have been deemed out of fashion. Princess Nisha awaits your opinion on this new selection.”
She picked up a fork, examining the assortment. Strange little leaves and flowers adorned one, sugar sculptures of varying subjects topped the others. Perhaps she should have requested orange blossoms.
“There is a saying about throwing rocks at feeding lions,” Noal said. When Mireille glanced up at him, he added, “Don’t. That’s the saying. Don’t throw rocks at feeding lions.”
“Lest you get eaten yourself?”
“Just that.” He cleared his throat. “I suspect such a game is afoot, and I would be remiss to not say it seems a great folly, what the pair of you are about.” He crossed his hands at the wrists, and for the first time, it came across less as a habitual gesture and one that felt as if he were performing a duty. “Mayhap, laying down arms would bring you far greater strength.”
Noal was no fool. The man watched everything. She lifted a bite of cake to her lips, refusing to acknowledge the bit about her and Alder surrendering to each other. “I see no lion, only a spider, tangling her web tighter and tighter. And the only good way to be rid of spiders is to set their webs aflame.”
“As long as the entire house doesn’t burn down in the process.”
“Noted,” Mireille said.
“Shall I tell Nisha that you have made your choice?” He gestured toward the tray, though she had only tasted a sliver of one. It did not taste well, but they would all taste of ash in her mouth, given the circumstances. “Raspberry, I think.” At least it looked pretty.
She cleared her throat against a tickle and reached for a glass. Her tongue felt a bit thick, and she coughed. By the time she lifted the glass to her lips, her airway had constricted.
Noal leaned forward, his eyes gone wide, posture stiff. Mireille stood, the glass fell from her hands, and with not a single word, she collapsed. He caught her just before she hit the ground. Fingers clawed into the material of his vest, she struggled to breathe, and her gaze met his.Poison. She’d been poisoned.
That was when she remembered. Nisha had not even been in the kitchens—she’d said he was going to the forest to collect some rare…somethingshe’d meant to use in the decorations. Mireille let go of Noal, scrambled backwards, and knocked into the cart, porcelain shattering around her and tea pooling around her limp arms as blackness overtook her.
* * *
Mireille staredup at a strange dark ceiling. She blinked, too exhausted to lift her hands and rub her bleary eyes. It was not her bed, not her chamber. Dragging every ounce of her will to shove down the emerald coverlet, she tried to sit up.
“You should not attempt to move.” Alder’s voice was thick. His shadowed form seemed to block out the rest of the room. A memory swam to the surface, and Mireille was unsure if it was real or a dream, Alders voice,I shouldn’t have let you out of my sight. Not even for a moment.
“The cakes…” Her throat was raw. Her mouth tasted of medicinal herbs.
He stepped closer. “The queen has grown in power. Noal has been questioned extensively and, it seems, she was somehow able to influence him. The palace was swept, the staff interrogated, no stone left unturned.” His jaw flexed. “She has more spies among us than I ever could have imagined. They are inside the palace. Ourhome.”
Just as she had done in Norcliffe. Except that Noal had not been asleep. Mireille should have told Alder about the queen calling her to the room with the hourglass, when her magic had felt different and she had not taken full control. She fumbled to grab hold of his wrist; her fingers felt puffy and clumsy. “I am still here. She has failed. Tomorrow night is the ceremony.”
He shook his head. “It was only because you tasted so little, else we would not have saved you.” He let out an angry breath. “Even here, in my own kingdom, her influence has become insidious.”
