Petara eyed it, a thrill of excitement going through her. She only cared a little for the snake itself. Sure, it was a curiosity. Someone with a little less brains might even find it as enthralling as she acted but, after all, it was just a snake.
She chided herself for the pretense. Tamas was obviously interested in her. Maybe she could have just asked him to go upstairs. Only her training as a proper noblewoman, something ingrained from a young age, made her go through the motions.
But the pretense was over now. They were alone. Tamas stepped over to the crate and Petara intercepted him, pushing up against him, intertwining her fingers in his. She looked up, lips full, mouth slightly open. “Field marshal,” she said, “I hope I’m not being too forward.”
“No,” Tamas said. “I think not.”
Petara felt an involuntary purr in the back of her throat as he pulled her close to him. Their first kiss was long, deep, and lingering. She’d been with dozens, maybe even hundreds of men. Each had their own strength, their own attraction. She’d even been with a few Privileged in her time, but never a powder mage. She could already tell this was going to be an experience to remember.
Tamas pulled away. She followed him, mouth open, but he took her hand in his and held it up to the light.
“These fingers,” he said. He lowered his lips to them, kissing her fingertips one by one.
“What about them?” she asked.
“They’ve done so much.”
Petara frowned. “Oh?”
“Really, I’m quite impressed.” He continued to kiss her fingers, but Petara felt a dip in her eagerness.
“Are you now?” she asked.
“Oh, very.”
She felt a sudden prick against her palm and pulled away from Tamas. “What was that?”
Tamas showed her his hand. He held a tiny, hollow bone needle between two of his fingers, and she stepped away from him to examine her palm in the light of the candle. The scratch had drawn the smallest bit of blood. Her heart was no longer racing with excitement, and she was overwhelmed by her own annoyance.
“Why did you do that?” she demanded.
Tamas produced a clay vial from one pocket and sunk the needle into the wax inside. His steel visage was gone. His face was soft, kindly. Maybe a little bit tired.
“It’ll only take a moment,” he said. “There. You should be feeling it now.”
Petara tried to back away but found her feet frozen, her hands stiff. No part of her body would obey her, not even her eyelids.
“Absolute paralysis,” Tamas said. He removed a pocket watch from his jacket and set it on the table next to the crate. “You should be dead in about two minutes.”
Petara tried to move, to call for help. To beg. Nothing came out. She couldn’t even breathe. She felt the sweat beading on her brow. She wanted to tell him that the royal guard were patrolling this hallway. That whatever he dared could come to only ruin. He couldn’t possibly get away with this.
Tamas took a powder charge out of his pocket and unwrapped it slowly, like a thoughtful child unwrapping a candy. He sprinkled the black powder on his tongue then put the wrapper back in his pocket.
Petara remained frozen in place, her limbs locked. She couldn’t even collapse to the floor. All she could do was watch.
Tamas drew his dagger and flipped the latch on the crate. He removed a smaller box from within then flipped the latch on that one as well, letting the top spring open.
He struck faster than the eye could see, the tip of his dagger plunging into the box and staying there for several seconds. Petara was transfixed. She tried desperately to remember how much time had passed, but her mind had grown foggy. How long had he said? A minute? Two? This must all be a joke. Surely he wouldn’t kill her, not where everyone could see his crime.
“She called you her friend,” Tamas said.
She? Petara wondered. Who?
Tamas’s hand dipped into the box and came out with the limp body of a small snake, no longer than his forearm and as thick around as a man’s thumb. It was a pretty creature with a repeating pattern of scales across its back that looked like so many green eyes. The tip of Tamas’s dagger had pierced its brain, killing it.
He stepped over and lifted her hand up where she could see it. “Erika spoke of you often,” he said, lifting the snake and pressing on either side of its jaw with his thumb and forefinger. The tiny mouth opened to reveal two fangs. Tamas pressed them against the palm of her hand where he had cut her. She felt the twin needles bite into her flesh. “She said you were one of the smartest women she knew – clever, forward thinking, with an iron resolve. She trusted you, and said you could help us forge a new world. She went to a Kez guillotine with no knowledge of your betrayal.”
Tamas examined his handiwork. From Petara’s viewpoint there was no longer a scratch on her palm. Just two tiny pinpricks. The horror of it dawned on her even as her mind grew more frantic and confused. The venom on the needle was from this very snake. Tamas would tell everyone that she had opened the box overeager, and against his wishes tried to grasp the creature. It had bitten her, and there was nothing he could do about it.
“I would ask you why you did it, but now...” Tamas shrugged, waving the tiny fangs of the snake under her eyes.
Because I wanted you for myself. Because she didn’t deserve you.
Tamas leaned forward. The tired kindliness was gone from his eyes. They were harsh, angry. He put his lips next to her ear. “I bet you’re wondering how I knew. Well. I know a lot of things. The ‘hunting accident’ that killed your husband? Lord Lindberg’s financial ruin and apparent suicide? Lady Soliat foreswearing her title and joining a Kresim convent?” Tamas snorted. “I don’t care about your murders or machinations. I’ve killed and ruined enough nobles myself to make even you blush. What I care about is that Erika called you her friend, and you sent a courier to Duke Nikslaus to let him know where she would be so he could arrest her. That’s all that matters.”
Tamas dropped the limp snake and crushed it under his boot. Petara felt his fingers on her chest, and she was pushed gently backward, her body finally collapsing onto the bed behind her. Her vision became cloudy, her eyeballs burning from not being able to blink. There was a pain deep in her chest.
Tamas appeared above her. “It would be so much more fitting to kill you with all the others. But that’s still years away, and I wanted this to be personal. Goodbye, Lady Petara.”
Petara tried to croak out something – anything – but her body still disobeyed her. How had this night gone so wrong? What was her misstep? How had he known about her involvement?
It had been a trap, and she’d walked straight into it. Pit, she’d led him by the hand up to the room where he would kill her.
She was still fighting with the indignity of it all when darkness finally claimed her.
Tamas stared coldly down at the corpse for several seconds before remembering the bitterness of the kiss. He made a face and spit into the fireplace, wiping his lips of Petara’s taste and hoped that Erika would forgive him for that.
He thought she might.
He checked the clay vial before returning it to his pocket. How would it look if he accidentally pricked himself with that venom? He shook his head, chuckling mirthlessly, letting his gaze fall back on the body. Petara really had been a striking, intelligent woman. She would have made a formidable ally. He might even had married her if he’d never come across her involvement in Erika’s death.
But Tamas did not forget. He did not forgive.
Tamas glanced at Petara’s corpse one last time before opening the door.