Page 22 of The Poison Daughter
“Yes, and we approve of your request to negotiate trade as we celebrate the new engagement with events over the next two weeks here in Lunameade,” Philip says.
My father nods. “Excellent. Everything else is in order. Shall we sign and bind the deal?”
He cuts his finger and dips in a quill, signing his name in blood on the contract. My mother goes next, followed by the Havenwoods. Lunameade’s magic requires blood. It has ever since the discovery of the well—and contracts are no exception.
My hand shakes, but I hardly feel the blade. My secret life is about to be unearthed, and it will doom me and the rest of Lunameade.
I look up at my mother, pleading with her with my eyes, trying to find a way to stall, but she just nods and hands me the quill.
I sign my name. Then, Henry signs his.
“Now, what is this power you’ve assured us is potent and deadly?” Philip asks.
I hold Henry’s gaze. He’s still grinning, his eyes fixed on my mouth. I lean against the bookshelf beside me, brushing my fingers over an ornamental dagger that sits there. It’s probably not very sharp, but better that than nothing, especially since my magic isn’t working.
“As you can see, our youngest daughter is a great beauty, whichperfectly hides her deadly gift.” My father loves to address my beauty so that people will ignore my more advanced age. Thirty is old for a marriage, even if I am a widow, but he makes sure to remind everyone how lovely I am, so they forget that my childbearing years are limited.
He lets the pause stretch out before he speaks the words sure to start a war between our families. “Harlow has a poison kiss.”
5
HENRY
Harlow Carrenwell tried to kill me.
It takes a moment for it to sink in. I stare down at the marriage contract as if the answer might be written there. That menace tried to kill me, and I fell right into her trap because she batted those long eyelashes at me.
I knew that someone would have it out for me the moment I set foot in Lunameade, but this is not where I expected the first shot would come from. At least now I have a specific reason to hate her and not just a general hatred of her family.
Harlow watches me with narrowed eyes, like she’s waiting for me to rat her out. She shifts so her hand rests on a ceremonial blade on the bookshelf. She was so convincing in her performance last night. But now, with belladonna blossoms embroidered on her dress and her hand on a blade, she looks as dangerous as she truly is.
Since the attack ten years ago, my vision has been colorless. But while the rest of the world is a spectrum of muted grays, Harlow is black and white. That’s why I noticed her in the bar. Her hair dark and inky, her skin pale as fresh snow. In a monochrome world, Harlow is still striking.
She catches me staring and flashes a knife-sharp smile.
I thought I’d at least make it down the aisle before I did somethingoffensive enough to beg for that level of ire. She tried to murder me…and yet she also moaned and arched into me when I kissed her neck. Either she’s the world’s greatest actress, or she was at least a little bit into it.
My parents are looking at her like they won the daughter-in-law lottery. Coming here and making this offer was a huge gamble, and now they know for sure it paid off. Her magic is dangerous, but not from a distance.
I’ve nurtured my hatred of the Carrenwells for almost ten long years. I was not supposed to ever see Harlow as anything but an assignment, and yet, she’s already outmaneuvered me. Every time I look at her, I can only think of her body pressed against mine.
Harlow was only meant to be a means to an end—someone I could woo and use for information. But the fact that she has sneaky magic makes her even more of an asset.
My new fiancée’s gaze is fixed on me, like she’s waiting for me to speak now and end this.
I’m outraged enough to consider it, but if I tell everyone now, I won’t get a chance to figure out who put her up to it. I won’t get a chance to figure out why she ran off instead of finishing the job she set out to do by some other method, or how she managed to be so convincing. The memory of the way she whimpered when I kissed the thin slash of skin at the top of her stockings rattled through my mind all night, and I need to rid myself of the idea that it was anything more than an act.
Most importantly, if I sell her out now, I won’t get a chance at revenge.
“Could we see a demonstration?” my father asks, startling me from my thoughts.
It takes all my focus not to react. When we planned for this meeting, we’d expected a demonstration would be manipulation or holy fire—not murder. But my father gives me an expectant look, and I have no choice but to commit.
Harlow’s body is rigid, poised to run.
I grin at her and nod. “Yes, I’d love to see.”
Liza Carrenwell knocks twice on the door. A moment later, it opens, and a man walks in. He hands her a paper with trembling hands.
