ella
nomic tick of a grandfather clock in the hall. Each tic
tany that sharpened my focus, hardened my hands. I laid out the contents of my pouch: crushed nightshade petals, powdered
This was the alchemist's gambit. Julian's poison was meant to attack the heart, slowly crystall
s scent. But he didn't know its true purpose. It wasn't a mask; it wa
hen came the needles. I pressed them into the points my grandmother's journal described
s nothing left
. Ten minutes. T
d? The thought of Julian's triumphant face, of my own body being dragged to the cellar, sent a tremor through me.
es left on the c
began to tremble, then convulse, a violent, rattling shudder that shook the entire
ts. It smelled of incense and bitter almonds-the smell of the poison being expe
ttered. Then, t
rk, and utterly feral. There was no confusion in them, no weakness. Only pain, and a cold, pr
r came at the precis
htened my dress, and walked
her knees, praying. Clara was weeping into her hands. And Julian... Julian looke
irk playing on his lips. "Has y
g. I simply s
blood still staining his lips. He was pale, gaunt, and looked like a man who had clawed his way out of his own gr
dissolved, replaced by a ma
on his throne. And
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