Poison. Part 14

"Ari, it might not be as bad as you think." This prompted an icy blue-eyed glare, so Kyra quickly added, "Or it might. But, Ari"-Kyra brushed her friend's hair back over her shoulders and tried for a wry smile-"never forget that your best friend is one of the world's experts in poison. There's not a man who can stand in your way. Not for long, anyway."

Ariana's cheeks lifted in a smile. "That's exactly why I wanted you to come."

"Wait, what? You want me to kill this guy?"

Ariana rolled her eyes. "No. Because you can make me laugh even as my life is ending."

"Well, good. It's nice to know I'm useful for more than just offing people." Kyra sat beside her on the bed. "Have you considered that getting married might be sort of fun? I was a bit doubtful at first too, but I'm starting to look forward to it."

"That's different. You got to choose who you're going to marry. If I hear one more time about how important my marriage is for the kingdom, or the words *Nuptial Bond,' I'm going to scream." The princess's voice turned small. "What if he's all proper and everything? I might never get to go outside again. Lots of royal people NEVER leave the castle except a few times a year in a carriage. Kitty, I seriously couldn't take it."

"I know, Ari." Kyra knew how lucky she was to be marrying a man she loved. "We'll just have to figure out a way-"

"A way for me not to get married?"

Just then, a knock came at the door, and at Ari's response, in walked two dressmaker's apprentices. They swept by the girls, curtsying as they went, hung up what they were carrying, and silently departed.

It was a dress, truly one of the most beautiful wedding dresses Kyra had ever seen.

It was obvious that it had been made with love-and with this particular princess in mind. The dress didn't have a single puffy ornamental bit on it. It was a long and silky green, with a small pinecone clasp holding the material together at one shoulder. Slits were shaped into each side, as though the dressmakers had antic.i.p.ated the bride's need to be free and unrestricted, able to run and move easily. The long, flowy shape was a perfect complement to Ariana's athletic frame.

It was a dress fit for the G.o.ddess of the Hunt, running barefoot in the moonlight.

"I love it," Kyra said, before she could stop herself.

There was a horrible look on Ariana's face. She quietly nibbled and swallowed a bite of cookie. "Need tea," she mumbled.

Kyra's trip downstairs to the kitchen for a teapot took only moments.

But it was long enough: when she got back to the room the dress had been ripped to shreds.

And now here it was hanging in tatters at Gabrielle's.

Kyra had always a.s.sumed it had been thrown out. Yet Ariana must have brought it here thinking it could be salvaged. Or looking to hide the evidence of her tantrum. Kyra lifted one of the torn bits of silk hanging off the dress and drew a line with the same needle coated in Melt elixir that she'd used on the door. The tightly woven fibers relaxed their grip and unraveled, and the strip of fabric came away.

Destroying the dress? That was just Ariana being Ariana. A tantrum.

No, what had bothered Kyra was what happened in the days that followed. Ariana changed. She'd thrown herself into the wedding preparations and avoided Kyra, refusing to talk to her. Eventually, she banished Kyra from her company altogether.

And then, a few weeks later, Kyra was brought to her knees by the second vision she'd ever had in her life.

The princess stood at the top of the castle parapet-newly married, in a hideous pink wedding gown. As she raised her arms, the gown turned a deep burnt charcoal, all of the frills burning off and crumpling to the ground, her blue eyes changing to deepest black. The darkness that was coiled inside of her spread out, cloaking the land in night.

Evergreen trees withered and died, flowers melted, grapes fell from the vine, and a blackness shrouded the buildings of the city so thickly that they cracked under the weight. And then the vision jumbled and leaped ahead to a bleak future: Prison cells filled to bursting, slaves in chains at the Sat.u.r.day market. Famine sweeping the land, wars raging, and the rivers swelling with the blood of the dying.

Color had left the Kingdom of Mohr, and with it all hope and beauty.

Through the Nuptial Bond-the magical connection that bound Ariana to the land on her wedding day-she would poison the kingdom.

That was why Kyra had to kill her before her wedding.

AS KYRA MADE HER way to get Rosie from Fred's hotel through the dark, winding, crowded streets of Wexford, she eavesdropped on the people around her.

They talked nonstop in the way of folks who've had too much drink. There were mean jibes about a huge band of magic-working Gypsies who'd been driven out of the city-"Gypsy rabble," one man called them-and gossip that the Princess Killer was hiding somewhere in the city. "They're going to turn out every bed in the city to find that murderous scamp!" a woman brayed. And everywhere was talk of the wedding-how it was going to be the biggest celebration the kingdom had seen in decades. "Something so grand it'll make this festival look like a sparkler on a cupcake."

So intent was Kyra on listening to the crowd that she wasn't aware of the Cherry Blossom Princess processional until it was right behind her.

Kyra and everyone else were pushed up against the sides of the street to let the parade pa.s.s. They watched in awe.

The floats were beautiful and represented different elements of the holiday-from a giant mock springberry pie, to a bonfire made of shiny colored paper, to a straw-stuffed body that represented the dead King of Winter. The paradegoers held their torches high, flickering light dancing across their faces. Last of all was the Cherry Blossom Princess, with her guard of local boys dressed in solemn uniforms, and the local girl herself all decked out in over-the-top finery like a blossom of springtime.

As Kyra watched them go by, she caught sight of Dartagn just across the road from her. Next to him, like a loyal dog, was Hal. They were talking.

Then Hal's head came up. And looked right at Kyra.

He stared for a moment, then went back to his discussion with Dartagn.

Kyra's heart pounded. I'm wearing a glamour, I'm wearing a glamour, I'm wearing a glamour.

But she wasn't going to take any risks. While the captain and Hal were looking away, she joined the parade. She grabbed a torch from an older, plump man. Shock crossed his face, but then he shrugged. The uniformed float-handler beside him nodded to her as she lifted the torch.

At the first alley entrance, Kyra thrust the torch back into the plump man's hands and elbowed her way through the line of parade watchers. She took the most direct route she could to Fred's inn.

Once inside the Th.o.r.n.y Rose, Kyra used Release powder on the door to Fred's room. She'd expected to find him gone but was still relieved the room was empty.

Or nearly so. There on a pillow was the tiny pink pig, all curled up.

Rosie.

Something inside Kyra lit up at the sight of her. She tried to push the feeling away, but it engulfed her and made her eyes sting with unshed tears.

She'd missed the little pig.

Kyra scooped up the sleeping Rosie, anxious to leave as quickly as possible. The room bore signs of Fred everywhere-there was a wedge of cheese sitting out, half the loaf of bread she'd seen him buy earlier, the olive oil from the night of the campfire.

Bad enough that she'd gone all soft at the sight of a pig. Now Kyra's feelings were threatening to overwhelm her because of a few stupid campfire memories, a ghost of a kiss in the night, and the sensation of invisible arms around her in the soft, misty rain.

It was all more than she could handle. She needed to get out of there.

Something else about the room bothered her too-something intimate about being in Fred's s.p.a.ce when he wasn't there. Even if it was only a hotel room. She felt like she was violating his trust-taking more away with her than just the pig.

Kyra quickly locked the door and made her way down the hall to the back stairs.

The piece of silk from Ariana's ruined wedding dress rested in Kyra's pocket. She'd wait until Rosie woke up to pin it into her basket.

Outside, she slipped through the back gate of the inn, and turned south to avoid the crowds.

And came face-to-face with Hal. Dressed impeccably, as usual, his long rich velvet cloak swirling around him as he moved to block her way.

Her ex-fiance must have seen her go into the hotel and had been waiting for her. It was only then Kyra realized that her glamour had started to wear off. If one was looking closely, as it was evident Hal had been, you could see both layers-the glamour and the reality of Kyra beneath it. She cursed her own carelessness and palmed a throwing needle with her free hand.

Except, the first words out of Hal's mouth were so unexpected that Kyra paused.

"You've got the necklace," he said.

The necklace had fallen out of the front of her shirt when Kyra had leaned down to scoop up Rosie. "I do. Why, is the floozy who you meant it for missing it?"

Hal looked hurt, his handsome face wrinkling. "Kyra, I bought it for you."

Before Kyra could think of a response, Hal quickly moved, and Kyra looked down to discover the tip of a green-glowing poisoned sword at her throat.

"But that was before you became a criminal, my dear. I'm afraid, Kyra, that I can no longer offer you my hand in marriage."

"I know," Kyra said, exasperated. "I'm the one who left you. First."

"I bought the necklace after you moved back to Wexford," Hal said, ignoring her, the tip of his sword never wavering from her throat. "There was a new stall at the Sat.u.r.day market, and I thought, maybe..." He reached out as though to touch the cord around her neck with his free hand, but stopped himself. "I was hoping we could get back together again." He shook his head. "Before I learned who you really are. Now look at you. Stealing a pig. You've turned into a common thief."

"Hal, this is my property." Kyra gestured to the sleeping pig with her chin. "I'm just collecting it."

Hal looked her in the eye. "I know why you tried to kill her, Kyra."

Kyra stared at him, stunned. "You do?" How could he understand? Had she misjudged him?

"Of course." He ran his free hand through his hair. "You were jealous."

"Jealous." Kyra stamped down the fury that threatened to bubble to the surface. The sword was so close to her neck, even a small movement could p.r.i.c.k her and send its poison coursing through her body.

"Of me and Ariana."

"What?"

"It makes sense when you look at the events." He counted off on the fingers of his free hand. "One, she and I danced together by candlelight at the Imbolc Festival, which, by the way, everyone does-it didn't mean anything! Two, you and I fought. Three, right after that, you moved out. And four, a couple weeks later, you're throwing a poison dart at Ariana."

Kyra couldn't believe it. She and Hal had fought because Kyra had been worried about the princess-Ari hadn't been herself since slashing her wedding dress. It was beyond strange that the princess was suddenly the life of the party-even dancing with Hal, whom she normally detested.

He c.o.c.ked his head. "And you missed. I didn't know you EVER missed."

Kyra glared at him. "I'm aware of that." The throwing needle she had been about to use moments before was dangling loosely in her hand. "The idea that I would murder my best friend because I was jealous is insane, Hal. Why would I be jealous? Ariana only put up with you because of me. I a.s.sured her that even though you sometimes seemed a bit stupid, you were really a brilliant potioner. But now I see that being a brilliant potioner has absolutely nothing to do with whether or not you're an idiot. Somehow you manage both."

For a brief moment, Hal looked wounded. "We'll see if the princess thinks I'm an idiot now that I've caught you."

"Think so?" Kyra darted the Doze-tipped needle underhanded into Hal's leg, quickly pulling back from his sword as he went down.

Still holding Rosie with one arm, Kyra bent over his sleeping body for the second time in a week. "My putting you to sleep is getting to be a habit," she muttered. She felt a twinge of regret. He was heartbreakingly handsome. And they'd shared a lot. She considered leaving behind the necklace. It didn't seem right to take it.

But its nighttime glow was too useful.

Kyra felt someone approaching from behind. Turning, she quickly smacked her thighs and blew sleeping potion at the person.

Ned's round face. Her other ex-colleague sank into unconsciousness.

But not before he'd touched her shoulder.

She looked down and realized what he'd done as the mark glowed briefly red before fading to nothing.

He knew her reflexes, knew she'd turn as quickly as she had, and he'd had the foresight to reach out to touch her even as she was knocking him out.

She was tagged.

KYRA SPRINTED THROUGH the darkened forest at an all-out run.

She ran and ran and kept running, Rosie jostling in her arms, trying to put as much distance between herself and her pursuers as she could. She ran until tears were streaming down her face and her breath was coming in gasps.

This was nothing like being hunted before-it was a million times worse. They'd know exactly where she was. It would just be a matter of getting to her.

Her only hope now was that a big enough head start would make a difference.

Of course, they'd be able to travel twice as quickly on horseback as she could on foot.

Nothing could stop a potions tag. It could be confused by cloaking it in other magic, or by hiding amid a huge crowd of people, but that didn't stop the tag; it only put it off the track for a moment. Eventually the tracker would be able to find his prey again.

The taggee never felt a thing, but the hand of the tracker would grow warmer and warmer the closer he got to his prey. By the time he found the tagged person, his hand would be burning and he'd do anything to touch the object of his hunt. That was the only thing that could stop a tag-direct, deliberate contact of the tracker with his marked quarry.

And maybe even worse, Kyra thought, was that Hal had just tried to break up with her. Like she hadn't already cut things off before she'd moved back to Wexford!

Clearly Ariana had been right about him all along.

It had started the previous summer. She and Hal had been working on a new cloaking potion, a vast improvement on the potion Kyra and Ariana had used to sneak out of the castle. Ned had fallen asleep at his worktable by the window, his mouth open, an occasional snore rumbling out.

"This is it." Kyra had let the last drop of the red elixir she was holding fall into the vial in front of them. She could feel Hal's breathless reaction beside her as the liquid changed from muddy brown to transparent.

"Kyra," he said. "I think we've done it." He gently swirled the bottle around, then put little test drops on the ink-dipped pen in front of them.

The pen vanished.

Kyra dropped her head closer to the table. The air around where the pen should be shimmered a bit, but way down at one on the visibility scale. Negligible.

There was no sign of the pen itself. You'd never know it was there.

Kyra let out a little yelp of excitement and was swept up in Hal's arms. He swung her around, then set her on her feet.

"We," he said, "are brilliant." Then he leaned forward and kissed her smack on the mouth.

A friendly gesture in a moment of heightened excitement. Except...

"Kyra," he'd said. "I love you."

"That's sweet, Hal." Kyra reached up to pinch his cheek. "I love you too."