Ash Princess (Ash Princess Trilogy #1)(77)
In my mind, Thora is a huddled mess of panic and fear. She remembers his hands, she remembers the whip, she remembers his sickening smile when he called her a good girl. But I will not be afraid, because I have a vial of the deadliest poison known to man in my pocket and I can end his life with half of it.
“Your Highness, Theyn,” I say, keeping my voice soft and level. I am a simple girl who thinks only simple things. “It’s so lovely to see you both. Won’t you join us for coffee?” I ask, gesturing to the table. As if I have any say in the matter.
The Kaiser’s gaze flickers to Crescentia.
“Actually, Lady Crescentia, if you don’t mind, I’d like to have a few words alone with Lady Thora,” he says, and though the words are polite enough, they are a pointed command. Cress must hear it as well, because she hesitates for a breath and her eyes find mine, a reminder there that I do not need. Her threats from a moment ago are still echoing in my mind.
“Cress,” her father says. He holds an arm out to her, and after a last glance my way, she links her arm through his and lets him lead her away.
The Kaiser takes her seat and I retake mine, trying to calm my racing heartbeat. The candle is still matching it, though a quick glance at the other tables tells me that theirs are calm and solid. Only mine is erratic, and I cannot think about why that is, not now with the Kaiser staring at me like he is. I’m painfully aware of the other courtiers watching and whispering. I push them out of my mind, focusing on the Kaiser, on the pot of coffee between us and the vial in my pocket. If I can manage to kill the Kaiser, Blaise and the others will call it a success even if Cress and the Theyn are still alive. Maybe I can even get out before Cress discovers what I did, before she tells her father everything and they arrest me. But even if I am killed for this, it will be enough. My mother and Ampelio will greet me in the After with pride.
I slide the vial from my pocket and into the long sleeve of my dress so that the corked top is wedged between the skin of my wrist and the cuff. When I slipped it into my pocket this morning, I never imagined I would actually use it. It was a gesture to placate my Shadows, but now I can actually see myself pouring the poison into the Kaiser’s cup when he isn’t paying attention. I see him drinking it. I see him burning alive from the inside out. And I don’t flinch from those thoughts, murderous as they might be. If anyone deserves to die from Encatrio, it’s the Kaiser.
“Coffee, Your Highness?” I ask with a bland smile, lifting the pot. If I just pretend to scratch my wrist, I can uncork the top and slip the poison in without anyone noticing….
But his nose wrinkles. “I never developed a taste for the stuff,” he says, waving a hand dismissively.
Frustration rises in my chest but I force it aside. So close, but I can’t very well shove the poison down his throat.
“Very well,” I say, setting the pot back on the table. “What can I do for you, Your Highness?”
Though it nauseates me, I glance up at him through my eyelashes and summon my sweetest smile.
His smile broadens and he leans back in the chair, which creaks under his girth.
“The Theyn and I have been discussing your future, Ash Princess, and I thought you might like a say in it.”
I have to choke back a laugh. He already has my future plotted, and nothing I say could change that. It’s the illusion of a choice, just like the one he gave me when he asked me to kill Ampelio.
“I’m sure you know what is best for me, Your Highness,” I reply. “You have been so kind to me so far. You must know how grateful I am.”
His hand slides across the table toward mine and I force myself not to pull mine back. I let him place his thick, clammy fingers over mine, and I pretend his touch doesn’t revolt me. I pretend I welcome it, even as bile rises in my throat.
“Perhaps you could show me just how grateful you are,” he murmurs, leaning toward me.
I can’t look at him, so I watch his hand instead. His sleeve is touching the base of the candle, only inches away from the flame. If it isn’t my imagination or a coincidence—if I really am controlling the flame without meaning to—what else can I do? How difficult would it be, really, to make a spark jump and catch his sleeve on fire? It would look innocuous enough, but it would make him stop touching me.
I would give anything for him to stop touching me. Anything.
Even your chance at the After? Even your mother? Even the future of your country?
The questions give me pause.
Suddenly a crack slices through the air and the Kaiser is yanked back, falling to the ground in a graceless heap, the chair splintered beneath him, the iron frame snapped cleanly in half. Shocked, I leap to my feet, along with everyone else on the pavilion.
Lying on his back, he reminds me of a turtle flipped over onto its shell. His bloated stomach strains at his shirt as he writhes, struggling to sit up to no avail. His guards rush forward to protect him, but when it becomes clear there was no attack, only the Kaiser’s girth breaking the chair, even they have to struggle to keep straight faces as they help him up to his feet. The courtiers crowded on the pavilion are less able to hide their giggles, which makes the Kaiser’s face grow redder and redder with fury and embarrassment.
I search for my Shadows lurking in the corners, and for Blaise in particular. The Kaiser’s weight alone wasn’t enough to break the wrought-iron chair, not without a touch of Earth magic. But it’s hard to believe Blaise would have done something so reckless on purpose.