Her eyes widened. “I would hope so, or I’d be rather embarrassed.”
“No, you don’t—” I said and stopped. I grabbed her hand, pressing my forehead to hers so the words would reach her even if my voice softened and fled. “You don’t understand. I hate Erlend. My entire life’s been stuck in the shadow of Erlend’s crimes, and I didn’t like you. I did, but I didn’t realize it. I kept trying to think of you as the same as the others, the lords and the ladies who started the war and razed my home, but you’re not like them. Not at all. And I’ve waited for so long for some chance to show them up and help Our Queen, and it’s here, but you’re here too, and I—”
Elise closed the distance between us and pressed a light, chaste kiss against the corner of my mouth.
“You shouldn’t kiss people who could kill you,” I whispered, all the blood in my veins singing her name and urging me to kiss her.
“Don’t presume to know what I should or shouldn’t do,” she whispered back. “I know what I want, and that was a kiss for good luck. Do not die—you’ve an awful lot left to do and even more to explain to me.”
I nodded. “I do owe you some explanations.”
“Tonight then.” She turned in her chair till her back was flush against my chest and her hair brushed my chin with every breath. “Until then, something to remember me by.”
Elise picked up her brush again. She dragged the ink across my arm in small sharp strokes. Drips turned into wispy letters under her fingers, and illegible scrawls bloomed into words I knew I’d seen but couldn’t place, blackening my skin from fingertips to elbow. She curled over my arm, and her lips seared my palm.
“There.” She leaned against my shoulder instead of moving aside, ear pressed to my chest, and sighed.
A faint black lip print shone in the center of my hand, her words spiraling out around it.
“What’s it say?” I asked, resisting every desire to tilt my head and taste the answer on her lips.
Tonight. If I lived.
Elise chuckled, the sound ringing in my ears. She blushed and rubbed the ink from her lips with a thumb. “It’s a poem.”
“But what’s it say?”
“All the more reason for you to survive tonight.” Elise stared at me over her shoulder, lips set in a mock-serious, ink-smeared smirk. “It’ll keep me in your thoughts. I’m very selfish, you see.”
“Not even a little bit.” I grinned. I wasn’t likely to stop thinking of her unless I got dumped in the Caracol. “Least tell me the book.”
“The Way of Melting Snow. Isidora let me borrow it.” She glanced at the clock and shoved the pen into my hands. “Quick—your name.”
I flexed my fingers, afraid the ink would crumble like ash. She wanted some part of me on her for longer than a heartbeat, and the thought rendered me senseless, unable to even recall what letters made up my name. “It won’t be pretty.”
“I don’t want it to be pretty. I want it to be yours.”
I picked up the pen with a shaking hand and wrote my name on her arm, splattering extra ink across her wrist and leaving a spotty trail of black from letter to letter. I was sloppy and sharp, none of Elise’s soft curves. She smiled down at it.
I held our last glance in my mind as close as the ink on my skin.
Thirty-Three
The second test was a tense affair. Two was first, eyes darting over every dish and cup placed in front of her. The Left Hand watched from across the table, and Ruby tapped Two’s fingers with his spoon each time she raised a piece of food to her nose to sniff.
“Subtly,” he drawled. “It’s very rude to insinuate your host is attempting to kill you.”
Ruby glanced at me when he said it or at least turned his face to my corner. The Left Hand hadn’t told the guards to stop me when they let me enter. I stood in the corner meant for Maud, arms trembling after holding a pitcher of wine still for so long, and they let me be. Except for Ruby.
He kept dumping his wine in the potted plant behind him and demanding I refill his cup. Dying by his hand might’ve been better than this.
He must’ve recognized me.
Two ate enough to be polite. She spat the poisonous mushrooms from the first dish into a handkerchief; took the wine but wisely refused the poisoned tea; and palmed the candied plums dusted with extra sugar and deadly sunrise trumpet. The servants moved only when called.
By the time Two was done—alive but chastised for her posture—I was tired of holding a half-full pitcher of wine. This was too boring to be bearable.
Four entered. Finally.
I straightened. He was only two steps away and laughing. I gripped the handle of my pitcher tighter, the weight of Elise’s words on my skin giving me courage, and waited to pour his wine. The other servers fluttered around him, taking twice the time to set up his first plate so Emerald could slip white powder into his grits. He saw, smiled, and motioned to me. He never looked away from the Left Hand.
Perfect.
I bowed next to Four with my hand holding the packet of Lady’s Palm on top of the pitcher to keep it still while I poured a steady stream of poison into his glass. The poison dissolved on contact—odorless and tasteless once in liquid. Four must have assumed that if the Left Hand hadn’t touched the wine that it would be safe. Perfect.
I waited for him to take a few sips and whispered, “You should recant.”
He spat what was left of his wine back into the glass. “What did you give me?”
Everyone stopped.
“Lady’s Palm.” I straightened and let the silence hang between us. The nightshade was safe in an extra pocket Maud had sewn into my shirt. “And I can’t recall killing Six or where I put the nightshade extract.”
“Finally!” Ruby tapped a butter knife against his wrist. “I thought you’d never get to the point.”
Emerald leaned back in her chair, fingers tightening around her glass. “A condition of your probation was not killing the other auditioners.”
“Dying’s up to him,” I said, hoping my voice was steady. I was giving them enough reason to name me Opal or kill me on the spot. “Four lied to cover up killing Six.”
“I didn’t kill Six.” Beneath the table, Four rubbed his palms along his pants. Sweating—the first symptom.
“Auditions are like court, right?” I set my pitcher down, arms shaking, and glanced at Ruby. His mask gave nothing away. “A witness recants in court, they strike it from record. You can’t be tried if they’ve got nothing.”
“This would’ve been simpler if you’d had an alibi.” Emerald took Four’s poisoned wine and held it up to the light. “Where’d you get this?”
I shrugged. Let Eleven do as she pleased as long as I got reinstated. If she messed up and hurt a servant, all the better. I’d given Maud the warning and extract. They’d be fine, and Eleven would be gone.