Palace of Silver (The Nissera Chronicles #3) - Hannah West Page 0,88

turned around and said, “It’s not snowing again, thank the Holies.”

Orturio settled back down and drained the clear liquid in the glass, blinking a little in surprise at the taste. I drank mine, resisting the urge to search his face for a sign that he knew what I had done.

Frowning, he poured himself another. He would either recognize the difference or wash the taste away and shrug it off. He looked at me as he drank. I averted my eyes and stabbed a potato.

I didn’t anticipate it would be enough to lull two large men to sleep within minutes, as it would me. I could only hope it was enough to cloud their senses. I ate slowly, taking small bites and watching through my eyelashes as Orturio complained to his uncle about what the snow would do to his harvest and ultimately, his product and fortune. I thought his blinks seemed heavier, longer, but it could have just been wishful thinking.

Faith in my plan wavered when I finished the last bite of my meal. I hoped Orturio wouldn’t lose interest and send me back to my chamber.

He continued rambling about how the poor weather would ruin them. “But I believe we stand to recoup some of it when we install the princess on the crown—”

I looked up in surprise at his mistake. He hadn’t noticed, and neither had his uncle. The tincture was affecting them both now, undoubtedly helped along by the pomati.

I nearly offered to pour another round, but decided I was better staying put, inessential to the increasingly incoherent dialogue. At last, Orturio blinked a few times, his head lolling slightly to the side.

The uncle snapped in Orturio’s face to try to wake him before settling back in his chair, unsuccessful. He grumbled something that made no sense, slurred by the pomati and the tincture.

A feeling of urgency sprang upon me. I set the perfume bottle on the table and slipped out of my seat, eyeing the fire iron at the hearth. The weakness of my injured ankle would make this a difficult fight. I steeled myself for a struggle.

“What are you…?” The uncle garbled his words as his lazy gaze tried to follow me to the hearth. The fire iron felt powerful in my grip.

The uncle’s back was turned to me—an easy target. Orturio sat in profile at the head of the table, his head resting on his chest. I debated a moment before deciding that it was Orturio I had to take down first. He posed the greatest danger if he recovered consciousness before I could make my escape.

I circled around the head of the table, the slipper of my unmaimed foot sliding along the floor as I favored the other. I looked at the uncle; his mouth was open, his breathing heavy, his eyelids barely flickering.

I raised the pointed fire iron, found my balance, and gritted my teeth. The weapon whistled through the air as I brought it down and struck Orturio’s broad crown, denting his skull, spraying blood over my knuckles.

Orturio roared and thrashed. My second blow only glanced off his skull. The uncle jerked awake and lunged for the iron, swaying so heavily that he dragged us both backward as we struggled, sending knives of pain through my sprained ankle. We tumbled together, and his large body broke my fall. He tried to wrap his thick arm around my neck, but I slipped away from his grip and snatched my weapon again, swinging it down to meet his groin. He cursed and howled.

Orturio staggered from his chair. He swiped to knock me down, but the head wound and the tincture slowed him enough that I was able to land another solid, bloody swipe to the side of his head, which sent him barreling to the stone floor.

The maid who had cared for me since the other’s death hurried in, gasped, and exited. She might summon the guards or the other servants. I had to finish this now.

The uncle gripped my maimed ankle, squeezing the swollen knot with his massive fist. I issued a sound that was part sob, part scream, and fell against the table. My elbow crushed the tray of cordial glasses and the bottle of pomati. Glass stung my skin, but I’d managed to cling to the fire iron. I turned to find the uncle getting to his feet. If he caught me, it wouldn’t take much for him to overpower me. I couldn’t give him the chance. I whacked him