Page 102 of The Poison Daughter
This is catastrophically bad timing. Even with my head throbbing and my vision swimming in light, I can feel every eye in the room on us.
Henry leans closer, his face coming into focus. “Your pupils are huge. Did you take something?”
I shake my head. A mistake. The blood in my head sloshes and I almost fall over from the wave of dizziness. “Too much wine.”
There’s a chuckle from the table beside us and a few hushed whispers I can’t make out. I’m mortified, but it’s better they think I’m a lightweight than defective.
The last place I need to show a weak spot is miles from home in the heart of a hostile fort. The only person in this room that I trust is Gaven, and I only trust him enough to get me back to my room safely.
Henry’s head snaps to the side, clearly noticing that Gaven is making his way toward me.
“What’s going on, Harlow?” Henry whispers.
“I think I just need to lie down. The wine went to my head.”
He dips his head. The winter-forest scent of him hits me all at once, and I have to fight the urge to lean into him—to tuck my face into the crook of his neck and rest.
Clearly, I’m very unwell.
Henry is not my salvation. He’s not even my friend. He is just the means to an end.Myend, if I’m not more careful.
“Tell me what’s going on right now,” Henry whispers.
“I did,” I snap.
My vision turns splotchy, blood pounding in my ears. The attack is coming on so fast. It used to take longer. I used to have more time to hide. It’s getting worse.
“Gaven will take me back to my room now. Thank you for being so concerned about me getting a good night sleep. Such a doting husband-to-be,” I say loudly.
Several chuckles rise from the tables around us. They think I’m taunting him, and I guess I am, but I’d rather be seen to be teasing than fleeing.
Behind Henry’s shoulder, the dark splotch of Gaven comes into view. I know him by his naturally rigid gait, because he’s walked beside me my whole life and I have often needed to find him while blind with pain and trying to hide it.
The ache is splitting me open, nausea turning over the little bit of dinner I managed to force down. It’s coming on much too fast. I need to get out of this room before I completely implode. I step around Henry and take Gaven’s arm.
“Good night, my wolf,” I say over my shoulder, forcing my face into a bright, teasing smile.
Just before we step out of the room, I hear Bryce laugh and mimic, “My wolf.”
In the hallway, Gaven tightens his grip on me. “How bad?” he asks, rushing me down the half-lit hallway.
“Terrible. I don’t know why. I went to the well right before we left home. It shouldn’t be like this.”
Unless it’s beyond the well’s healing. Or, worse, corruption from the well itself—my body reminding me I’m so full of poison that I’m rotting from the inside out.
“How long do we have?” Gaven loops an arm around my waist when we get to the stairs and practically hauls me up the two flights.
“Seconds.”
Several servants gawk as we rush by, but I don’t bother to smile or act fine. Let them all think I’m a drunk. It’s better than them thinking that I’m weak.
I stumble down the dark hallway. With the throbbing in my head, I don’t mind the dim light, but my blurred and haloed vision casts a strange glow in the hall, like we’re walking through a sea of ghosts.
Just breathe, Harlow. Just breathe.
I’ve lost all sense of time and reason. It’s just me and the searing ache splitting my brain down the center. This is it. I have fought and fought, but this time I’m done.
This time, the agony will win. This time, I will die.
