The poison sat on the table between us, contained in a small vial that looked deceptively innocent. The liquid inside was clear as water, nearly impossible to detect in wine or food. According to Isla the healer who'd provided it, three drops would induce symptoms that mimicked death—stopped heartbeat, ceased breathing, cold skin—for approximately six hours before the body naturally purged the toxin and consciousness returned.
"You're certain this will work?" I asked for the third time.
"As certain as I can be." Isla's face was grim. She was one of the few people we'd brought into the plan, someone whose expertise we desperately needed but whose loyalty was still somewhat uncertain. "I've tested this formulation on animals with similar physiology. The effects are consistent. But Your Highness, I must stress—this is incredibly dangerous. If his body doesn't purge the poison naturally, if something goes wrong with his metabolism, if the dose is even slightly too high..."
"I'll die for real instead of temporarily." Kael's voice was calm, but I saw his hand shake slightly as he reached for the vial. "I understand the risks."
"Do you?" I couldn't help the sharp edge to my words. "Do you really understand what you're asking me to do? To watch you appear to die, to grieve publicly, all while knowing you might not actually wake up?"
He looked at me then, really looked at me, and I saw the fear he was trying to hide. "I'm asking you to trust me. And to be strong enough to carry on if I don't wake. If this kills me for real, you'll need to continue the investigation. Stop Daemon. Protect the kingdom."
"Stop trying to be noble and self-sacrificing. It's irritating." I took the vial from him before he could change his mind or I could lose my nerve. "If anyone's administering this poison, it should be me. That way if something goes wrong, I'm the one who takes responsibility."
"Elara—"
"Non-negotiable. We're partners. That means I get equal say in suicidally dangerous plans." I turned to Isla. "Walk me through the administration. Exactly how much, exactly when, and exactly what symptoms to expect."
For the next hour, Isla explained every detail. The poison would act within minutes of ingestion, starting with numbness in the extremities, progressing to respiratory depression, and finally cardiac arrest. To observers, it would appear that Kael had been successfully assassinated. His body would be cold, his heart still, his breathing undetectable.
"The only way to tell he's not actually dead is to check for extremely faint magical signature," Isla explained. "The curse in his blood will keep his shade alive even when his body appears dead. But you'll need magical sensitivity to detect it, and most people don't have that ability."
"Will his shade manifest when he's under the poison's influence?" I asked. That could ruin everything if his supposedly dead body was surrounded by visible shadows.
"I don't know. This hasn't been tested on shade-bearers before." Isla looked apologetic. "That's another risk factor. The curse and the poison might interact in unpredictable ways."
Perfect. More variables we couldn't control.
After Isla left, Kael and I sat in silence for a while. Tomorrow's plan was set. During evening meal in the great hall, I would slip the poison into Kael's wine. He would collapse publicly, apparently dying in front of the entire court. Captain Thorne and Elena, the only others who knew the truth, would help me transport his "body" to our chambers where we'd monitor him until he woke. Meanwhile, we'd watch everyone's reactions to determine who knew about the assassination in advance, who was surprised, and who contacted Daemon to report success.
It was a terrible plan with too many things that could go wrong. But it was the best plan we had.
"Tell me something," Kael said suddenly. "Tell me something about your life before all this. Before Shadowmere, before the conspiracy, before everything got so complicated."
I understood what he needed—a reminder that life existed beyond danger and death. A moment of normalcy in the midst of chaos.
"I used to have a hiding spot in the palace gardens," I said. "Behind the rose bushes, there was a small alcove with a bench. No one ever went there except the gardeners, and they knew I liked the spot so they never disturbed me. I'd go there and read books I wasn't supposed to have. Adventures, romances, histories. Anything that showed me worlds beyond my cage."
"What kind of adventures?"
"Knights and dragons. Pirates and treasure. Ordinary girls who discovered they were secretly powerful and changed the world." I smiled at the memory. "I wanted to be like them so badly. Wanted to matter, to do something important. It seemed impossible then."
"And now you're living an adventure. Fighting conspiracies, training with weapons, helping save a kingdom." Kael took my hand. "Did it turn out how you imagined?"
"No. It's messier. More frightening. More people die in real adventures than in books." I squeezed his hand. "But it's also better in some ways. In books, the heroes are always certain they're doing the right thing. In reality, we're making choices in darkness and hoping we're not making everything worse."
"That's surprisingly philosophical for someone who spent eighteen years as a decorative object."
"Decorative objects have a lot of time to think. We just didn't have permission to speak our thoughts." I shifted closer to him. "What about you? What was your life like before I arrived and complicated everything?"
"Lonely. Repetitive. Training, studying, avoiding people who feared me." His voice was distant. "I'd convinced myself I was content with isolation. That I didn't need connection or love or any of the things normal people need. Then you showed up and destroyed that comfortable lie."
"Sorry about that."
"Don't be. It needed destroying." He pulled me into his lap, and I went willingly, resting my head against his shoulder. "Whatever happens tomorrow, whatever the poison does or doesn't do, I want you to know—marrying you was the best thing that's happened to me. Even if we'd met and then I'd died immediately, it still would have been worth it to know you."
"Stop talking like you're actually going to die. You're going to wake up, we're going to expose the traitor, and we're going to stop Daemon. That's how this ends."
"I hope you're right."
We stayed like that for a long time, holding each other, neither wanting to let go. Because tomorrow everything would change. Tomorrow we'd cross a line that couldn't be uncrossed. Tomorrow one or both of us might actually die.
And there was nothing we could do about it except move forward and hope we were strong enough to survive.
Sleep that night was impossible. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw Kael collapsing, saw him cold and still, saw him failing to wake when the six hours ended. My imagination conjured every possible disaster until I finally gave up on rest entirely.
I found Kael in the training room long before dawn, working through sword forms with intense focus. His movements were precise, controlled, almost meditative. This was how he managed his fear—through physical discipline and the familiar rhythm of combat.
"Couldn't sleep either?" I asked from the doorway.
"Too much to think about. Too many variables." He didn't stop his forms, the blade whistling through the air. "Keep running through the plan, looking for flaws, trying to anticipate everything that could go wrong."
"And?"
"And there are at least a dozen points of failure that could get me killed or expose the deception." He finally stopped, lowering his sword. "But we're committed now. Can't back out without looking weak or afraid."
"You are afraid. We both are. That's not weakness, that's sanity." I moved closer. "Kael, if you want to call this off, we can find another way. We don't have to do this."
"Yes, we do. We've tried every other approach. This is the only way to force the traitor's hand before Daemon strikes." He set down his sword and took my hands. "But I need you to promise me something."
"What?"
"If I don't wake up, if the poison kills me, I need you to promise you won't stop. You'll continue fighting. You'll work with Elena and Captain Thorne and whoever else is loyal, and you'll stop Daemon's coup even without me."
"Kael—"
"Promise me, Elara. I need to know that if I die, it'll mean something. That the kingdom will be protected. That you'll survive and thrive and become the queen you were always meant to be."
I wanted to refuse. Wanted to tell him I couldn't possibly continue without him, that he'd become too important, too central to everything I was now. But that would be selfish. And if this plan went wrong, if I lost him, the kingdom would still need protecting.
"I promise," I said, the words tasting like ashes. "But I'm also promising this—I'm not letting you die. I'll watch you every moment. If anything seems wrong, if your magical signature fades, I'll find a way to bring you back. Partnership means I don't give up on you."
"Partnership," he agreed. "Now come on. Let's spar. If today is going to be my last day of consciousness for a while, I want to spend it doing something I'm good at."
We trained until the sun rose, pushing our bodies hard enough that we couldn't think about what was coming. It was brutal and exhausting and exactly what we both needed.
The day passed in a blur of final preparations. Mira helped me choose the right dress—formal enough for evening meal but with hidden pockets where I could conceal the poison vial. Elena reviewed the magical signatures I should watch for to confirm Kael was still alive beneath the poison's effects. Captain Thorne positioned his most loyal guards strategically throughout the great hall, ready to control the chaos that would follow Kael's apparent assassination.
And through it all, I carried the vial of poison like it weighed a thousand pounds.
Evening finally arrived. The great hall filled with nobles, all dressed in their finest, chattering about meaningless court gossip while unaware that everything was about to change. Kael and I entered together, and I felt every eye turn toward us. Were some of those eyes Daemon's agents, already anticipating success? Or were they all innocent, simply curious about the cursed prince and his foreign bride?
We took our places at the high table. King Aldric was there, looking tired and aged. Theron sat nearby, his expression unreadable. Darian had been conspicuously absent from court activities lately, supposedly dealing with issues on his country estates. Was that genuine, or was he positioning himself elsewhere for a reason?
Servants brought food and wine. The meal proceeded normally, courses arriving and departing, nobles talking and laughing. It all felt surreal, like watching a play where I knew the ending but the other actors didn't.
Kael caught my eye across the table. A question in his gaze—are you ready?
I nodded slightly. As ready as I'd ever be.
He raised his wine glass, making a show of examining the vintage, commenting loudly enough for nearby nobles to hear. "This is excellent. Much better than last night's selection."
That was my cue. Under the table, hidden from view, I withdrew the vial from my pocket. My hands shook as I opened it, as I moved my hand toward his glass while pretending to adjust my napkin.
Three drops. That's all it would take. Three tiny drops to either expose a traitor or kill the man I'd come to love.
I hesitated, the vial tilted over his glass, time seeming to stretch impossibly long.
Then Kael's hand covered mine under the table, steadying it. Encouraging me. Trusting me completely.
I let the drops fall into his wine. One. Two. Three. Then quickly recapped the vial and returned it to my pocket, the motion smooth and practiced despite my terror.
Kael lifted his glass again, toasting something meaningless to the table at large. Then he drank deeply, draining half the cup in one swallow.
I held my breath, counting seconds. According to Isla, the poison would take two to three minutes to fully manifest. Minutes that felt like hours as I waited for the man I loved to collapse and appear to die.
Around us, court continued as normal. Nobles talked and laughed and ate, completely unaware that a prince had just been poisoned at their table.
Kael finished his wine, set down the glass. Then his hand went to his throat, a small gesture that could have meant anything. His face paled. His breathing quickened.
"Kael?" I said, loud enough for those nearby to hear. "Are you all right?"
"I'm fine. Just a strange taste in the wine." His voice was strained, but he was maintaining composure. Good. The poison was working, but he was controlling his reaction, making it look gradual rather than sudden.
Then his hand started shaking. He gripped the table edge, knuckles white. Sweat beaded on his forehead.
"Kael!" I stood, moving to his side. This wasn't acting—the terror in my voice was absolutely real.
"Something's wrong," he gasped. "The wine. There was something in—"
He never finished the sentence. His eyes rolled back and he collapsed, body going rigid then limp. I caught him as he fell, lowering him to the ground as the hall erupted in chaos.
"Get the healers!" someone shouted.
"He's been poisoned!"
"Assassination attempt!"
I knelt beside Kael's body, pressing my fingers to his throat where his pulse should be. Nothing. His skin was already cooling, his chest still. To anyone watching, the cursed prince was dead.
And I'd killed him.
"No," I heard myself sobbing. "No, no, no. Kael, wake up. Please wake up."
Captain Thorne appeared at my side, his face grim. "Princess, let me see him."
He made a show of checking Kael's vital signs while actually using his minimal magical sensitivity to confirm what only we needed to know—that beneath the apparent death, a faint magical signature still persisted. Kael lived, barely.
Captain Thorne met my eyes briefly, gave the tiniest nod. It had worked. The poison had done exactly what Isla promised.
"He's gone, Your Highness," Captain Thorne said loudly, voice carrying across the suddenly silent hall. "Prince Kael is dead."
The great hall exploded into pandemonium. Nobles shouted, some screamed, guards drew weapons looking for threats. And I knelt beside my husband's body, tears streaming down my face, only half of them pretend.
Because even though I knew this was temporary, knew he should wake in six hours, holding his cold, still body felt exactly like loss.
And somewhere in this chaos, someone was watching. Someone was smiling. Someone was preparing to report success to Daemon.
And I was going to find out who.