Though Silas has made up his made what what he needed to do to secure the crown, he did not go to Loretta immediately.
He told himself he needed time to think, to be certain, but the truth was harder to admit. Every step toward her chamber felt heavier than the last, as though something in him was resisting in a way he could not fully control.
He poured the drink himself.
The glass sat on the table for longer than it should have, untouched, as he stared at it in silence. The liquid looked no different from any other—clear, harmless, almost inviting. No one would question it. No one would suspect anything.
That had always been the point.
His fingers tightened slightly around the edge of the table before he finally reached for the small vial beside it. The contents inside shimmered faintly, almost beautiful in the low light.
Silver.
Deadly to their kind.
For a brief moment, he did nothing.
His mind betrayed him then, unhelpfully pulling forward memories he did not need.
