Slices of duck were nestled atop sparks of orange sauce with candied peels stacked together in the center. A fire, raging at the city’s heart.
Only dessert remained.
Elara was about to begin with the custard when she offered the bottle to Nik.
He gawked. “I… I…”
“Only take it if you’re ready to paint with your whole heart,” she said.
It was an offer for Nik to back away. Lafontaine was his father, and Nik, like his mother, deserved to choose where he stood. He could use this moment to help her or damn her.
His hand wrapped around hers, and she savored the spark.
Nik faced the table, an artist to his canvas, and let go.
He moved with a grace she’d rarely seen. His arm swept in wide arcs as he added custard and foam in beautiful shapes. Lavender mousse filled in the gaps with color, and he knew exactly where to place the brilliant golden honeycomb crumble.
He finished, towering breathless over their art.
Elara touched his shoulder, hoping he felt her gratitude.
“It is Anespérer at sunset,” Tremblay gasped.
“What a performance,” Perrault declared.
“The drama. The passion!” Faucher squealed.
Elara turned to Lafontaine. “And you, Souverain?”
He was as pale as his evening finery.
Elara was all innocence and smiles, just as he and his son had wanted her to be. Except this time, he was trapped beneath her thumb. Moving forward, he would answer to her demands—
He pierced a potato with a fork and ate it.
43ELARA
One bite was all it took to destroy their plans.
To her horror, the Souverainsdevouredher meal. Unlike at the Exposé, they delighted in her food. They would gorge themselves… to death. Faucher, Perrault, Tremblay, even Cormier tried all the elements.
Only Gabriel and Lafontaine measured their eating, tasting the smallest of morsels to avoid suspicion.
Elara was helpless. If she stopped them, everyone would believe she’d done this, that she’d tried to kill them. The same was true if she waited.
“Delicious, Rousseau,” Lafontaine murmured. “The magie is to die for.”
Elara’s stomach soured, and she had to pinch her sides to keep from retching.
When the Souverains had eaten their fill, they patted the corners of their lips and sighed contently.
“Absolutely marvelous.”
“Truly a wonder.”
“And the—”
Perrault was the first to fall.
