The night fae caught Stamel’s gaze as Virion fanned himself and took a seat at a nearby table. “I do not think my mate is accustomed to drinking. It’s been a long time since he’s imbibed,” Nemiah whispered.
Stamel nodded, but flinched when Virion clenched his jaw and Nemiah turned his attention sharply to his mate. “Sugarmoth?”
Virion waved him off as he sat his glass down and leaned over. “Perhaps we might leave. I don’t think thejuiceagrees with me.”
Virion took Nemiah’s hand and they made their way toward the exit, being polite as they moved along. Stamel glanced at Seidrik once more, ready to tell him how absolutely handsome he was in his attire when a scream broke the din of chatter.
People rushed about, crowding toward the exits, and Stamel’s heart skipped a beat. His blood ran cold as someone announced that Virion had collapsed. Stamel took Seidrik by his hand and forced his way through the crowd in time to catch Nemiah’s stone-cold gaze as he carried Virion out, lips wet with bile, and crimson soaking down his pants.
Seidrik stared at his drink and then glanced up, his face going white. “No.”
“I’m going with them. Go check on Tyran and Sima. They had the juice, too. I’m fine.” Seidrik bolted after them, and Stamel glanced around until he caught the little panicking sun fae under his arm.
“Come with me, child. It’ll all be fine.” As Stamel ran toward his quarters, he passed Alluin who stood frozen with a horrified expression and milling attendants flustering about in a panic. Many of the guests cried out that the wine was poisoned, all of them afraid they might have consumed—but Alluin didn’t have that panic.
Stamel stored that thought for later as he bolted through the castle and toward Seidrik’s wing, up the stairs, and into their quarters where a Tyran sat with his governess and a book, completely unharmed. “Tyran!”
“Da?” The little one lifted his arms and Stamel picked him up for a tight squeeze.
“Are you okay? Are you feeling well? Did the juice taste funny?” Stamel patted over Tyran.
Tyran shook his head.
“Where’s Sima?” Stamel glanced around and the little boy stared up at him, lips pursed. “You feeling okay?”
The child nodded, brows furrowed. Too serious of an expression for a child.
“Your uncle Virion is very sick right now. He drank or ate something bad.” Stamel rested his head against the little one’s and pulled back as he fidgeted and dug something from his pocket. A small vial with a clinging smear of black ichor inside.
Stamel stared at it as his heart skipped a beat, blood rushing in his ears.
“Is it ’cause of the medicines Miss Pilkie put in Seidrik’s juice? Uncle Virion wasn’t supposed to drink it…” Tyran let go of the vial, sticky with icing from his fingers, and let it fall into Stamel’s open palm.
Seidrik stared, eyes wide. His color drained.
Stamel’s heart seized.Screechwasp honey.
He whirled around to stare at Tyran’s governess. The timid, plump woman with bright eyes and dark hair recoiled as she saw the vial. “I didn’t see him do that, but Tyran was saying he spilled Seidrik’s medicine…”
“Prince Virion drank this. Protect Tyran with your life. Sima, stay here. Everything will be okay, I promise. Stay right here where you are safe and won’t worry your patrons. I need to go.” Stamel ran as fast as he could, exiting the castle in a whirlwind and taking flight carelessly. He needed to get to the thalmway, to tell them what Virion had been given.
The omega was nursing still, and his child was young, so it was unlikely he was carrying, but he had topray as he did so. With no mother sun above, he spoke to the moon. “Lady Goddess, moon above. Your son has been given screechwasp honey. Please, tell me he was not carrying.”
No response came, but the journey was fast and Stamel hit the ground by the rails, running to dislodge gravel as he made his way to the Drashili royal carriage, lights on within as harsh whispers and a groan of agony came from within.
Stamel pounded on the door and barged in when Seidrik threw the door open. Stamel nearly shouted as he panted. “Screechwasp honey!”
“Thank the fucking goddess,” an older woman’s voice piped up as she turned, addressing Nemiah, who stood over Virion, who had been undressed and covered in a sheet from his waist down. “It’s poison, but he’ll be okay by morning.”
“He wasn’t carrying, was he?” Stamel panted heavily as his body wanted to collapse in relief.
“No. But I am certain it was meant for Seidrik.” Nemiah glanced up and glared at Stamel.
“Tyran picked up the vial. Pilkie poured it into his drink. That’s why the little shit knocked his drink over.” Stamel met Nemiah’s gaze.
Virion groaned from his bed as the healer gave him prepared sorvin scale, from the looks of the vial in her hands. She followed it up with a small dose of salusis. “Should fix it. Since he’d not had an estrus since the birth, it shouldn’t be as hard on him since things aren’tripe.”
Stamel gave a short nod. “I’m going to kill—”
