Drink from my Cup

Adelia took a deep, bracing breath, before she ensured her face looked soft, relaxing her jaw slightly and easing the tense corners of her mouth, before she slightly rounded her shoulders, clasping her hands in front of her to look every inch the sweet, innocent, helpless noble daughter hoping for a soft rescue.

Behind her, Ada and Vera approached with trays of food and a platter of wine, two chalices set atop. One sparkling with magical beauty and the other looking downright plain beside it, despite being obviously well made.

Adelia had given Ada and Vera a quick explanation, for she needed their aid to pull this off. She sadly couldn't pre-prepare the chalice, twisting its three rings until only one last shift was needed to make poison bleed into the cup, because moving just one ring awoke the enchantment.

It was like the beginning of a spell, Sorceress Iva had explained, one getting cast as slowly as the caster liked, but a fellow mage would still sense the beginning weave of magic. Something that not even the minor beauty enchantment of the chalice could hide.

Which was why Adelia needed Ada and Vera's help. As soon as Emmertal's mage was done checking all the food and drinks for poison, as well as Adelia herself, he was likely to step out. Lords didn't much like having powerful prying ears and eyes around.

Servants, sure, they hardly paid them any mind, but mages and sorcerers were highly coveted. Any secret they overheard could be used against their employer. If they were clever about it, they could even ruin a lord over the things they knew.

With Emmertal's mage stepping out, Adelia only needed Emmertal distracted long enough to set up the chalice.

Glancing back, Ada and Vera gave her steady nods, the head chef already straightening and looking rather ruggedly fierce, while Vera seemed as wispy and dainty as ever. Vera especially would not raise any alarm within Emmertal.

She briefly felt over the documents folded into the pocket of her dress. She had rushed back to her rooms to get them while the kitchen had prepared the breakfast for a man she intended to murder without an ounce of regret.

Reaching for the door, Adelia knocked before pushing it open. Emmertal lounged at the dining table, his mage standing behind him like a particularly fancily dressed, non-armored guard. Not that mages needed metal plates and chain mail when they had magical shields instead.

Emmertal was dressed as dapper as was expected of nobility, that silver jewelry still decorating him and polished gold jewelry shimmering on his fingers. He smiled upon seeing her with quiet satisfaction and Adelia just barely spotted something viciously victorious that got swallowed swiftly. If she hadn't paid such close attention to him she would not have seen that predatory look. Like a trap about to snap shut.

"I welcome you in our home," Adelia greeted them both. "Please, allow me to treat you to breakfast while we discuss things."

Emmertal's gaze took in the two women who entered behind her, upper lip curling faintly in bored distaste at Ada's appearance, her wild edge and unmistakable strength, before his gaze lingered on Vera, drifting in Ada's wake with unparalleled elegance and slender enough to appear like a particularly pretty wraith.

Adelia wanted to gouge his eyes out.

"I hope wine is to your taste?" she said, drawing his attention and he hummed, giving her a gentlemanly smile that could not hide the coldness of his gaze and he lifted a hand, giving the mage a signal.

The mage stepped forward, waving a bejeweled hand over the trays Ada and Vera held out to him, magic downright making the air shimmer and sparkle for a moment.

"No poison," the mage declared. "Not in the food and any of the wine in this room or one any person." Aside from, perhaps, his employer. He'd never say it if his employer carried poison with him, after all.

Not that Adelia thought he would poison her. Not when he had something else planned. Not when he desired to snatch her away from Lord Emmertal like a prize to be won at a gentleman's game.

"Wait outside," Emmertal told his mage with a dismissive wave, much like Adelia had suspected. She had counted on this, in fact.

"You will be cared for by the staff," she told the mage whose cool expression didn't waver much. Emmertal must pay him well to be worth putting up with the man. "Ada, if you'd guide him to one of the waiting rooms?"

"Certainly," Ada answered, gaze briefly flicking to Emmertal, who watched Vera as she set down the tray in her hands.

She stepped out, the mage trailing after her with aloof pride and grace and Adelia reached for the chalices. "Allow me to pour you our best year," she said and Emmertal looked haughtily amused at best.

"Yes, let's see what these barbaric lands are capable of creating," he drawled. "I suspect their best will taste like vinegar." He chuckled as though it was a great joke and Adelia made herself smile.

She picked up the chalices and set them on a side-table, while she grabbed one of the bottles standing to the side. She ensured to ignore the bottle Vera had brought along and it made Emmertal's eyes glint. It was good that he thought she was actually breaking out the good stuff and as soon as she turned her back, pretending to uncork the bottle, Vera started to set out the dishes.

"Allow me to tell you about these dishes," the young banshee said with a downright luring softness in her voice and Adelia timed each clank of each dish getting set down with a twist of the tampered chalice.

She was barely breathing, her heart pounding in her chest and she forced her hands steady. Steady like they had been after her father had sold her horse to the butcher, steady as her hands had been despite her fear when she thought she would be forced to marry Emmertal months ago, back at the ball.

She watched as sickly-glimmering liquid started to seep into the bottom of the chalice and she reached for the wine, pouring it carefully. The glow vanished, getting lost in the darkness of the liquid getting poured.

She corked the bottle and carefully untwisted the bottom part of the chalice, ensuring it would no longer bleed death. Turning around, she took two steps towards the table.

Emmertal, who had until then watched Vera with a hungry darkness that made Adelia's spine stiffen, turned to face her.

"I hope you'll enjoy this vintage," Adelia said as she set the chalices down and she reached for the best looking dish first, only for Emmertal to tug it towards him first with a smile that was hiding that he was testing her.

To see if she would be as sweet and helpless as he remembered her to be. As accommodating. As inoffensive and careful to cater to his needs. The very things he was looking for in easy prey.

So she smiled back at him and reached for a different, less fancy looking dish. When she reached for the chalices next, she made sure to reach for the glimmering, enchanted chalice first. She reached for the wrong one because she this man clearly would not allow her to have anything nice. Not if it didn't come from him first.

And just as she lifted the chalice, he reached out his hand with an expectant smile, knowing very well that the rules of propriety, of proper hospitality, meant she would hand it to him. So she did.

She sat down, taking a sip of wine first and it took everything in her willpower not to stare at him when he did the same. She just barely bit down on a shaky sigh of relief when he drank the wine, something tense and wary along her back easing slightly, her pounding heart settling just a little.

Vera walked past Emmertal in that moment and Adelia's gaze flicked up to her, only for her to still ever so slightly. Vera had always looked delicate, thin wrists and a lightness to her entire being that bordered on frail.

But in this moment, her eyes were black as she stared down at Emmertal as he took another sip of wine. There was a sudden air of something otherworldly surrounding the kitchen maid, the slenderness of her, the thinness and wraith-like near-frailty suddenly resembling the grasping, quietly patient presence of death. It felt like a rock hitting water and sinking, unavoidable and inescapable.

Vera glanced up and met Adelia's gaze and with eyes like lightless black, no pupil remaining to be seen, she lips curled, teeth suddenly appearing sharper, her high cheekbones looking as though carved from marble, power and inevitability wrapped into one as she smiled as though she had just tasted something exquisite.

"Enjoy your meal," Vera said softly and drifted out of the room with a straighter spine and even more grace, her steps like the faintest of whispers across the stone floor, as though she were floating just the faintest bit.

Adelia took another sip of wine, before she made herself look at Emmertal, offering him a smile that her mother had made her practice over and over until it looked just right. A little sweet, a little warm, a little curious and with a hint of respect. To let him think he was interesting and that she would sit there demurely to listen to him attentively.

"Quaint, if barely acceptable," Emmertal said, swishing the wine as though he hadn't taken a couple of sips already, the chalice half empty. He set it aside to smile at her. "Tell me, Adelia, what will you have me do about your situation?"

He made it sound as though he was going to do her a favor so she produced the divorce papers, unfolding them and handing them over. "As you know, I remain untouched."

He hummed. "Someone needs to ensure that's the truth," he said and smiled at her as though he wasn't aware of how humiliating such a thing could be. "Your father, you understand, he would never make a dishonest deal and he will surely demand such a test."

As if Emmertal wouldn't want the same. As if her worth in his eyes didn't boil down to what laid between her legs.

"I see," she murmured, looking down as though shy and ashamed. "Have you spoken to my father, then?"

"Naturally," Emmertal said and it made her mouth taste bitter. Her father surely reveled in the chance to sell her like he had originally intended. To give her to a fellow noble rather than the barbaric warlord of the Wilds. "I will take these papers to the head priest as soon as I return and upon their legitimization, he will surely fetch you."

To take her away from here. Adelia had no desire to go with him, but she also knew that the head priest was an old man who never let himself be hurried. It would take a month at least for the divorce papers to get finalized and for her marriage to be considered null and void.

Enough time for Emmertal to get ever more sick, to the point where Adelia could enact the next part of her plan without risking Katrina's life. She did not put it beyond Emmertal to organize a hurried winter wedding, no matter how frowned upon it might be by the rest of the nobility, just to get his hands on her friend. To hurt her and, by proxy, hurt Adelia, who had never made a secret out of cherishing her friends.

"I will anticipate his visit," she answered and took a delicate bite from her breakfast. She then paused and made herself look appropriately concerned. "But, oh, my dear friend Katrina, won't she be disappointed?"

Emmertal smiled like a lazy predator, but Adelia would never forget the way he had put Katrina between him and the other warlords at the party a week ago. She would never forget that he was a despicable coward at heart, scraping together a feeling of superiority and power by hurting people who could not fight back against him.

"I'm certain she'll soon find someone else," Emmertal mused. "Baron Izna's grandson has a cousin who will soon be of age, he might be a suitably appropriate choice."

Or, perhaps, Adelia thought quietly to herself, a werewolf warlord who managed to make her friend smile and relax even in the midst of a terrible present and uncertain future. She'd see if Katrina would like to talk to her later about that.

"Besides," Emmertal added, taking another sip of wine and it made Adelia grimly glad and relieved. "If your deplorable husband decides to make you a proper wife after all, I will still marry her."

It was a quiet threat. If she let her husband take her, he no longer would. He gave her a smile filled with an unspoken demand: Choose me, save yourself for me, or I will take another.

As if she would ever want him. Still, she made the smile fixed onto her face widen just a little bit, as though she agreed with him. As though she was eager for it.

He must think her foolish, she thought. He must think her desperate to get out of the Wilds if she was going to marry him willingly despite having been frightened of him in the past. Then again, men like him never thought too much about what went on in a woman's head. So long as they got to have another conquest they cared for nothing else.

"Which reminds me, where is my fiance?" Emmertal said and Adelia made her expression crumble in that careful 'oh no' manner that made her look innocent and gullible.

"Oh, I'm sorry, she already departed," she answered softly, Emmertal's brow rising so she bit her lip before she hesitantly tacked on, "I, um, I thought it best she was gone so we could talk uninterrupted. And by the time she's back home we can announce our upcoming wedding. Traveling will give her time to digest that I stole her intended."

Emmertal's brow lowered again and he huffed in condescending amusement. "You women can be so emotional. Very well, I would rather avoid getting wailed at," he drawled, all smug with superiority. With feeling desired by two pretty young women vying for him. Like a peacock strutting about and making everyone look at him.

He was undoubtedly going to brag once he got back home.

He took another sip of wine and Adelia noticed that his chalice was almost empty. It allowed the tight fist of suppressed worry and anxiety around her heart to loosen at last. That was it. He had imbibed everything.

"I do wonder, however, what your husband thinks about all that," Emmertal mused, glancing towards the door. He hadn't touched the food despite grabbing what looked best for himself. "Is he around?"

"He left to settle a dispute towards the coast," she lied easily. "I fear I don't know when his sorceress will bring him back."

Adelia had to resist glancing towards the window, to check if there was a hint of the rising sun somewhere already. She desired to see Rowan after this awful breakfast was done and dealt with. If he was willing, she would love to get a hug.

"A shame," Emmertal mused. "Has he had anything to say when you requested his signature on these papers?" He gestured at the divorce papers set aside a safe distance from any possible spillage.

Adelia took a bite to stall for a moment, though it tasted of nothing in her mouth. Emmertal desired to one-up Rowan, to steal her away and lord it over the other man. Adelia wondered if she'd survive longer than Emmertal's previous wife simply for bragging rights. If Emmertal would leash his dark urges for a time longer just to see Rowan's sour face whenever he appeared to an event with Adelia hanging off his arm.

"He was rather cool about it," Adelia settled on answering. "I fear I find him hard to read."

Emmertal briefly looked a little displeased, like a child getting denied treats, before he waved a dismissive hand. "No wonder, a man like he is rather like these frosty, uncivilized lands." He gave Adelia a downright coy look. "Will you be safe if you stay here?"

Emmertal must not have a lot of experience with showing concern for others, for his attempt to look worried for her fell entirely flat.

"I rarely see him as it is," Adelia answered. "Nothing will change now. And if I do feel afraid, I will request his sorceress to bring me home. She said she would."

Emmertal appeared satisfied enough with that answer that he emptied the rest of his chalice, though Adelia didn't offer to refill it, despite his expectant glance. He didn't deserve to drink more of their wine.

Emmertal briefly appeared displeased again, a dark, flinty spark in his eyes, before he leaned back in his seat, the cushioned, wooden chair creaking faintly. Adelia ate another bite, before she set down her fork.

"I'm sorry to leave so soon after arriving," she said. There was nothing more to discuss and she wanted to leave this vile man's company now that she had achieved everything she had set out to. "I fear I have plenty of duties to attend in the absence of my husband. But please, feel free to enjoy your meal."

"Such subpar fare is beneath my tastes," he answered primly and rose to his feet. "But surely you have time to accompany me as I leave?"

"Certainly," Adelia answered, making sure her sweet smile remained on her face. When Emmertal offered his arm, she had to stamp down on the disgust that gripped her gut, causing an uneasy bit of nausea.

But she accepted, if only to get the man out of her home quicker. They left the dining room together and Adelia swiftly flagged down a passing servant, requesting that they fetch Emmertal's mage and bring them to the entrance hall.

She had no idea what Emmertal could possibly want to talk about, but even before they reached the stairs, she learned something about him that she really could have done without. The man was quite the braggart.

Now that he considered her nearly his, he desired to be fawned over, to be admired and praised and Adelia had almost forgotten just now bothersome something like that was. By the time his mage finally appeared, she couldn't help but feel strained and tense.

Thankfully, Emmertal let himself get gently ushered along, especially when Adelia softly mentioned that the sooner the head priest got those documents the better. He and his mage stepped past the front doors and his mage snapped his fingers, the two of them vanishing in a blur of movement that seemed to fade to nothing.

Adelia swiftly closed the doors, exhaling heavily and her shoulders sagged. All at once she felt exhausted down to her bones, her gut still churning a little and her skin crawled from where she had touched the vile man, had tittered at his unfunny jokes, had gasped softly at his accomplishments that she couldn't have cared less about.

A glance to the window showed that it was still dark out.

"Rowan?" she asked softly. "Are you near?"

A sudden gust of wind behind her made her turn around and there he stood, expression gentle and concerned and proud all at once and Adelia felt the remaining tension rush out of her.

"It is done?" Rowan asked and she nodded.

"He drank it all," she murmured and bit her lip, before asking, "Might you be willing to hug me?"

Rowan immediately stepped forward, opening and lifting his arms and Adelia met him, pressing her forehead against his shoulder as he gathered her close with a caring tenderness that briefly made her tear up.

"You did it, it's over now," he whispered against her hair. "I'm so proud of you, that was brilliantly done."

She smiled a little and hugged him a little tighter, his big hand running up and down her back with gentle firmness and she allowed herself to exhale, to close her eyes and take a moment to unwind.

To settle back into her skin, to let the crawling feeling of Emmertal's remembered touch get chased away by Rowan's gentle hands. She leaned against him and he hummed a low, soft tone deep in his chest. It was unexpectedly soothing.

They remained this way for long minutes until the tense disgust lingering in her bones slowly and steadily getting brushed away like dust from a shimmering, beautiful surface. At last she felt a sense of peace and accomplishment settle over her. A feeling of being home and secure.

"How much time is left until sunrise?" she asked quietly.

"A bit over two hours," Rowan answered. "Would you like to spend that time with me?"

"Yes, please," Adelia said right away. She would write Katrina in a bit to let her know that she no longer had to worry about anything. All the was left, beyond that, was waiting for Emmertal's death.

Adelia would also be waiting for her father, likely with the head priest of the temple in tow, to arrive. To demand her getting examined right then and there before he took her home with him. He would be so eager to sell her off to an ugly, brutal death and she would not let him.

Adelia released Rowan and he took a step back, giving her a sweet little smile, before offering her his arm. She almost took it, before she swallowed and, in a fit of affection and bravery, of desiring to be closer to him, she rested her hand over his instead.

His lake-dark eyes shone with warmth and care and a quiet want of his own as he turned his hand to let her palm slide into his, his cool skin settling against her warm one.

His hand was big, but it felt so very safe and when she moved her fingers, his parted easily, letting hers slide between his. His skin was smooth, no calluses, no dry knuckles, but there was a steady strength to him, something about it that tickled along her senses as decidedly unnatural. Inhuman.

She smiled up at him and his smile widened, revealing a hint of his fangs, giving his powerful hand surrounding her smaller, warm and human one a little squeeze. "Your rooms?" she asked and his smile widened, the corners of his eyes crinkling charmingly.

"Gladly," he answered softly and despite this fraught morning Adelia found herself wishing she could kiss that smile. To find out if that particular closeness would make part of her prickle with awareness of his supernatural existence, as well.

Mostly she wished to kiss him for him. To feel the shape of his lips, to sink against him and be held. To feel wanted by someone she desired in return.

He tugged her along and she followed easily and she couldn't help but bask in the safety and comfort she felt around him. There was an almost giddy eagerness within her to spend time with him, to relax and be herself and to learn more about him. To make him laugh and taste all those precious minutes before the sun saw them apart again.

Her heart filled with a warm, soft kind of yearning and she couldn't help but wonder if this was what it felt like to fall in love.