Chapter 7 · Poison at the High Table

The first thing I tasted was metal.

The second was blood.

I slammed both hands against the high table before my knees gave out. Plates jumped. A silver goblet tipped over and spilled red wine across the black wood.

"Mara?" Ronan was on his feet so fast his chair hit the wall. "What happened?"

My tongue felt too big for my mouth. I grabbed the edge of the table and forced air into my lungs.

"Don't drink anything."

Every noble at the table froze.

Ronan caught my arm. His fingers closed around the same wrist where his debt-mark burned under my skin. The mark flared hot. His eyes went straight to my wineglass.

"Who touched her cup?" he asked.

Nobody answered.

That was the problem with a room full of killers. Silence never meant innocence. It meant everyone was busy deciding who they could sacrifice first.

A sharp cramp twisted through my stomach. I bit down hard enough to taste more blood.

"Mara." Ronan's voice dropped. "Look at me."

"I'm looking. You're very hard to miss."

His jaw tightened. "What did you take?"

"Wine. One sip. Maybe two."

"Get the physician.