was gone, shutting the door behind her.
Nelle sprang into motion, leaping for the bed. How long did she have before Kyriakos made his appearance? He could be outside the chamber even now, just waiting for his other wives to vacate it. It could be moments. Less than moments.
She grabbed the chain and whipped the necklace out, almost flinging it across the room in her haste. Seated on the edge of the bed, her hands trembling so hard she could barely work the clasp, she flicked the locket open. The pungent stink of the Sweet Dreams nearly overwhelmed even the spicy perfume, yet Nelle breathed it in like heavenly incense.
She had only two doses left. Well, one should be enough. She dabbed a fingertip to one half of the open locket and quickly smeared the ointment across her chapped lips. It soaked in at once, and the smell evaporated on contact.
Clicking the locket shut, Nelle glanced around, wondering where she should stash it. Back under the pillows? No, if it worked as she hoped, she would want to make a swift getaway. Better to have it on her. But what if Kyriakos noticed the chain? What if he asked questions? It was too great a risk.
Having no other option available, she stuffed the trinket down the front of her corset. The laces were tight enough to hold it in place. It coiled uncomfortably against her stomach, secure and safe. It would be found only if . . . if . . .
“It won’t be found,” Nelle muttered, clenching her fists. “It won’t.”
She sprang up and paced across the room, her heart bounding with fear-spiked adrenaline. When she reached the huge fireplace, she paused to gaze into the fire. Strange, how it blazed so huge and bright yet did not seem to heat the room, at least no more than was pleasant. The spicy smell seemed to emanate from the logs.
Everything about this chamber was calculated for seduction. She felt it work on her senses, lulling her gently.
But she wouldn’t be lulled. Fear was her friend in a moment like this.
She turned from the fire, faced the bed again, and looked away quickly. Her gaze lit upon a collection of tools held upright in an elegant stand. She would have called them fireirons, only she knew they wouldn’t be made of iron here in Eledria. Gripping the handle of a long poker, she drew it like drawing a sword from its sheath. The firelight played on the sharp point. Nilarium, she guessed. It seemed sturdy enough.
She balanced it in her grip, then bit out a bitter curse. “Bullspit, girl, you’re not thinking straight!”
She couldn’t face Kyriakos with such open hostility. The Sweet Dreams was her best defense. Better to kiss him at once and get it over with.
But what if it didn’t work? He was fae. What if he was immune to fae poisons?
Nelle swallowed hard. Then she carried the poker back to the bed and tucked it under the pillows. Knowing it was there bolstered her courage.
When she faced the room again, the heavy curtains draping one of the eight walls caught her eye, and she dashed over to fling them open. Window glass reflected the red room back at her, offering no impression of the world outside. She put her face to the glass, cupping her hands around her eyes, but gained no more than a faint impression of many peaked rooftops and chimneys below and the occasional gleam of light from long, narrow windows.
“Bullspit,” she whispered again. Could she use the poker to smash through the panes? Possibly. But where would she go from there? It looked like a sheer drop below. Unless she missed her guess, she was a good twelve stories high, maybe more.
Nelle drew the curtains back together. Maybe her best bet was to wait on the bed. Arrange herself charmingly and tempt the fae lord in for that poisoned first kiss. Her stomach churned, but it was the safest plan. She would be in position to grab the poker then too.
Her bare feet padding silently on the red-carpeted floor, she returned to the bed and crawled onto the gorgeously soft blanket. She turned, sitting upright to arrange what there was of the black skirts to cover her legs, but still felt far too exposed. Perhaps that was for the best. If the plan was to lure the fae in, she’d better be spitting-well alluring. Propping one elbow on the pillows behind her, she draped her