"What is the mighty dragon king doing in a kitchen? Surely our hospitality isn't so—"
The words hadn't fully left her lips when her eyes landed on the trembling chef and the specific ceramic bowl in Caspian's hand. She paused mid-sentence, her green eyes widening by a fraction of a millimeter.
How? her insides screamed, clear as to what was going on here. They had discovered the poison but no one was dead yet. Just how? How did they detect an odorless, tasteless neurotoxin before taking a single sip?
Caspian's golden eyes slit into razor needles. He didn't miss the way her voice faltered, or the sharp, guilty panic that flickered across her beautiful face for a fraction of a second. He didn't need a confession. He knew exactly who the culprit was.
