Chapter 18: Her Hands

"Come in, my dear," Ansel said. "Close the door. The draft is cruel on my chest."

I stayed where I was.

"Where are the keys?"

"In my pocket. Where else would a careful man keep them?"

He smiled, and tipped his glass at me.

"You have your father's chin, you know. Harlan always lifts it just so before he does something brave and stupid."

"That gun is loaded," I said.

"With three times what we put in the border darts. You are a small girl, and I wouldn't want you to suffer."

I ran.

I'd have made it, if the door had not swung shut behind me and stuck on the rug.

The dart struck my thigh.

I felt the poison go in, a cold, bitter rush up my leg into my belly, and my wolf screamed in my head and went dark.

I hit the carpet on my side.

My arms wouldn't answer.

The room tilted, and the ceiling swam, and Ansel stood over me with the gun hanging from his hand.

"You'll be found at dawn," he said gently, "beside the dead rogues. A spy who broke into the regent's rooms and died of her own people's poison."

"Nobody will weep, child. You were never going to survive being what you are."

He stepped over me.

The door shut.

I heard a key turn.

I lay there and counted my breathing, and the poison counted with me.

My heart was slowing.

I tasted metal and green.

Somewhere far away, I heard Roan's voice saying, Anywhere you need me, and I thought, he'll be too late.

Then I thought, I can smell it.

I'm the only wolf alive who can smell it at any dose.