The fire crackled in the west wing's study, finally lit. Outside, the sun had sunk behind clouds, casting gray shadows across the estate. Inside, Lucien poured two small glasses of wine...not as an offering, but as a test.
He handed one to Liora without a word.
She stared at it. Then at him.
He raised an eyebrow. "Are you going to drink it?"
"…Should I?"
Lucien leaned against the edge of the desk, his gaze amused...but tired underneath. "If you ever have to ask that question at court, it's already too late."
Liora's fingers tightened around the cup.
He held his glass to his lips but didn't drink. "You know what the most common poison in the capital is?"
She said nothing.
"It doesn't kill you. Not right away. Just mimics fever. Vomiting. Some convulsions. And then...silence. Convenient for families like yours."
Her grip slackened, and she slowly set the cup down.
Lucien gave the faintest nod of approval. "Good."
Liora exhaled. "Why are you telling me this?"
