el

on the gravel path. The Nightingale Pavilion glowed ahead, a jewe

. The warmth of the room, combined with the drug, was a potent cocktail. Agnes swayed on her feet, her eyes glazing over. She took two s

g her pulse. She was in

heart, only the cold precision of a surgeon. I unfastened the top buttons of her drab servant's un

y fingers closed on a delicate lace appliqué. With a sharp tug, I rip

gnes's limp hand, a piece of manufactured e

vy, urgent footsteps

ilt

ied with the same drugged wine by Apr

ered one of the glass walls, my heart a steady,

ded with lust and alcohol. He didn't even seem to notice the face of the wom

ow, guttural g

of tearing fabric, a muffled groan fro

my hand finding the hidden latch of a small service door I

the filth of the scene I'd just orchestrated. I took a deep breath,

ss in the open garden, but potent in the enclosed pavilion. Anyone who lingered too long in that room would be uncons

for A

intercept Aniyah halfway. Autumn would claim there had been a change of plans, that I had moved to the east rose garden instead. A secluded spot, far from the main festivities, far from any witness. T

s way: isolate my only ally, then destroy me in

ardens with a purpose that belied

n me genuine kindness in that suffocating Sullivan household.

is arches draped in climbing roses, then the stone benches tuc

ses. I couldn't see the face from this distance-just the outline of a woman

crunching beneath my slippers, my breath coming

h had mended three times rather than ask the Sullivans for a replacement. And on the bench besi

as A

shaking fingers to her throat. Her pulse was slow-too slow-steady but faint, like the heartbeat of someone in a drugged sleep rather

I had to hold my own to detect it. I pulled her upright against the bench back, arranging h

from my past life-how its victims looked exactly like this: peaceful, motionless, utterly unreachabl

, my mind racing through a dozen half-formed plans. N

lt it before I saw it-a presence, heavy and watchful, the

ned m

the clearing, cloaked in the deep shadows cast by the

ane. Each step was measured, controlled-the gait of someone who had learned to turn weakness into a weapon. The silver handle of his cane ca

eel the weight of his presence-a quiet, suffocating pressur

ght his face, and

milton. It w

s left temple-details I remembered from another life, from whispered court gossip and distant glimpses across crowded throne rooms. But standing this close, those details co

ht in my throa

d "crippled" Alpha who had been exiled to the borders, on

laid plan had just collided with th

as low, smooth as aged whiske