“I’m aware.”
“Then don’t?—”
“I don’t have a choice.” I gestured slightly toward the ceiling. Toward the scanners Flinx had warned me about. “He’s watching.”
Brevan’s expression shifted. Understanding, then something harder. “Let me do it. I’ll tell him I insisted on examining it first.”
“He gave me an order.”
“Then I’ll countermand it. I’m the buyer. I have authority?—”
“You don’t.” I met his eyes. Red irises, gold tracery, completely focused on me. “This is my contract. My risk. My choice.”
“Carys—”
I pushed him aside. Not gently. Hard enough that he had to catch himself against the workbench.
Then I picked up the dagger.
The poison hit immediately.
Not pain. Not yet. Just heat. Spreading from my palm up my arm, racing through my bloodstream. My fingers started tingling. Then burning. Then going numb.
“How long?” Brevan grabbed my wrist, checking my pulse. “How long does it take?”
“I don’t know.” My voice sounded distant. Strange. “Nerath poisons vary. Could be minutes. Could be hours.”
“What are the symptoms?”
“Numbness. Paralysis. Respiratory failure.” I set the dagger down carefully. My hand was shaking. “Usually in that order.”
“What’s the antidote?”
“Specific to the poison strain. I don’t know which strain this is.” My mind whirled. I needed to start researching.
“Damn it.” His hand dove into his jacket and emerged with a small case. A single dose of something in injector format. “I was saving this for myself. It’s a broad-spectrum antitoxin, standard for infiltration specialists. I figured Tarsus might try to poison me at the gala.”
“What is it?”
“Immunity booster. It’s not specific to Nerath poison, but it’ll fight the paralysis and should buy you time to work.” He opened one of the injectors. “I was saving it for future… problems.”
“That’s yours. I can work through this. The poison won’t be lethal. It wouldn’t be the first time Tarsus has wanted to test me.”
“You touched poison. I didn’t.” He moved behind me, one hand on my shoulder to steady me. “The math is simple.”
“If you give me your protection and something happens?—”
“Nothing’s going to happen.” His fingers found the pulse point on my neck. Warm against my skin. “Hold still.”
The injector pressed against my throat. Cold, then pressure, then the sharp bite of the needle.
The booster hit my system like electricity.
Everything sharpened. Colors became too bright. Sounds too loud. I could feel Brevan’s hand on my shoulder, each finger distinct. Could feel his breath against my hair. Could hear his heartbeat, steady and calm.
“That’s...” I grabbed the workbench for balance. “That’s very intense.”
“The initial reaction usually is.” His hand didn’t move from my shoulder. “How do you feel?”
