Page 128 of Bedeviled

So instead of releasing my agitated magic, I force myself to casually walk forward.

“I see you brought wine—and an extra glass. Were you planning on having a drink with an old enemy?”

She smiles, settling in a bit deeper into my computer chair. If her eyes were sharp before, they’re nothing compared to the laser focus they have now.

“I thought we might share a rare vintage together—one you might be familiar with.” She says this with a slight emphasis, as though certain I’d recognize this particular wine.

I keep my expression as flat as possible, but the truth is that I have no idea what she might be referring to.

“I would’ve brought spiced wine for old time’s sake,” she continues, “but I find it, like most other human things, highly…unpalatable.”

Goddess, but how I loathe this woman’s entire personality.

I pick up the dark amethyst bottle, vividly imagining myself cracking it against the side of her head. Instead I read the label. Or I try to at least. The words are written in Old Fae.

My magic brushes over the label, my intentions making the script tremble, then morph.

Syrinx Theriaca Amortalis

Starfall Fields

I reach out and top her wineglass off. “Here’s to drinking down unpalatable things,” I say, pulling back the wine bottle, again fighting the urge to hit her with it.

I grab the other glass and pour myself a drink. Pale purple liquid splashes into it.

Eislyn hasn’t moved, and yet intuition is telling me that she’s tense. “I assumed you wouldn’t trust any drink I gave you.”

You shouldn’t trust any drink of hers, Memnon adds.

“Should I be worried?” I ask, twirling the glass in my hand and sending the lavender liquid spinning.

Eislyn’s eyes are sharp on me, her mouth curving into a smile. “Time and wisdom are bedfellows, human. I’ll let you decide.”

Nero’s growls, which had quieted at some point, now begin again.

I place a hand on his head, steadying him, and lift my other shoulder. “I’m just a silly little fool. But how about this?” I draw upon my magic and focus on the soft purple wine. “If poison or curses lay within this brew,” I incant, “change thy color from purple to blue.”

My magic swirls around the glass, then settles into the liquid. When the small plumes of my power dissipate, the wine is still lavender.

I arch a brow. “There, I’ve done my due diligence.”

There are a thousand and one reasons why one shouldn’t accept drinks from an enemy, even after warding themselves and spelling the wine.

Today, however, I don’t really give a shit about any of them.

I lift my glass to her. And then I take a drink.

SELENE. I can sense Memnon’s horror as I swallow down the mouthful of wine.

MEMNON.

SHE WANTS TO KILL YOU, he admonishes me. DON’T MAKE IT easy for her… His words grow increasingly quiet as he speaks.

Relax, old man, I say down our bond. I want to kill her too. And neither of us are dead yet.

Actually, the wine tastes good. It’s crisp and floral with the lightness of champagne.

Across our bond, I can tell the sorcerer is losing it.