Finlay gave a casual shrug. “I’m a bit of an attention whore, and the ladies love a celebrity. The worst the reporters have called me is a brainless hunk, and I take that as a compliment.”
I laughed. “So what’s the new plan?”
“I’d figure we’d stay on campus. A corner booth in the cafeteria sounds nice,” Finlay purred.
“Sure. Just let me grab a sweater.” I was cold, and my uniform wasn’t doing much to keep me warm.
I entered my dorm room. The moment my hand touched the doorknob, I had the thought something felt very off.
My next clue was the sight of Tygrys lying on my desk. His eyes were moving, but his limbs were stiff and still— like he was magically bound.
I didn’t have time to react. A hooded figure stepped in front of me— a man, taller by at least a foot. He wore a mask that disguised his features, black cloak shadowing his movements. In his gloved hand he held a thin knife, smaller than the length of my finger.
I gasped as the figure shoved the miniature blade into my gut. Pain radiated through my mind, and blood bloomed from the small wound.
“Queen Antonia sends her regards,” the assassin hissed. He yanked the blade out, and I yelped in discomfort. The assassin had fled out the window before I could stop him.
My fingers trailed over the wound. The blade hadn’t gone deep. It’d barely cut me.
Then a familiar sensation began spreading over my body. It started in my stomach. My gut churned, and I immediately felt sick. I fell to my knees and began vomiting into the waste bin, but nothing came up. Hives spread over my skin, which reddened and felt terribly itchy. I put a hand to my neck and gasped as I felt my throat swell, closing me off to air.
I knew this feeling, because it had happened to me before, a long time ago in high school… but never this bad.
St. John’s Wort. The blade had been laced with it. It had to be.
The binding enchantment on my faerie folk fell away. Tygrys fluttered upward. With one look at my face, he gave an alarmed squeak and flew out the door.
I was having an allergic reaction. I’d die in minutes if I didn’t get an antidote. There was an Epi-Pen in my purse, which I had on hand for my infusions. I struggled to crawl to my desk chair, where my purse was hanging. It felt so far away. My tongue was so thick and swollen it began choking me, and my vision swam as I desperately gasped for air, black dots swarming my eyes.
I collapsed feet away from my purse, on the verge of passing out. I heard footsteps as Finlay came tearing into my room, led by Tygrys.
“Emma!” Finlay knelt by me, observing my features in horror. My face felt so swollen, it had gone numb. My eyes looked at my purse.
Finlay began rummaging through it, tossing aside my wallet and pills while Tygrys screeched at him to hurry. Finally, Finlay found what I needed. He removed the cap, and jammed the Epi-Pen into my leg. I whimpered, and blackness overtook me as Finlay pulled me into his arms, crying out that I needed a doctor.
When I came back around, the first thing I noticed was I could breathe again. I took a deep, cool breath into my lungs, so grateful I could take in the air I needed. The red hives were running up my arms, though they weren’t as bad. I reached a hand up to touch my face. It was still swollen.
I was in the infirmary, a needle in my arm. Finlay must’ve gotten me to the hospital in time, thank the gods. He sat across from me, looking rather worried. Tygrys was perched on my foot at the end of the bed, mewing in concern.
“There you are, lass,” Finlay said in relief. “I’m glad you finally came around.”
I tried to sit up, and winced when I felt pain shoot through my stomach. The wound had been bandaged up. It didn’t have stitches, as far as I could tell. “I’m glad you were there to save me.”
Finlay reached out to take my hand. “What happened? The doctor said you were stabbed— St. John’s Wort. Who did this to you? You were gone for mere moments.”
My mind raced as I recalled the blade— the assassin. I noticed the buzzing I’d had since I’d drank from the champagne fountain earlier was