Page 34 of Monsters and Mocha

“Pray to Deus that the poison wasn’t concentrated enough to be lethal after a single sip.” Robertson’s voice was grave. “We’ll know soon enough.”

“No!” Fitz and Henry both yelled at the same time.

Fitz added, “There has to be something.”

There is, and I could take care of it if they would all just quiet down.

Darby closed her eyes, doing her best to block them out. She reached for the magic that normally came so easily and winced at the fresh wave of hurt it brought. She pushed past it, gritting her teeth, and a tiny whimper of pain escaped.

I’m too tired. I’ve reached my limit. This is it. This is⁠—

A warm arm wrapped around her shoulders pulling her back into a broad chest and supporting her from behind. Darby recognized the thum-tick of Fitz’s clockwork heart in her ears as her head leaned against him.

“I’ve got you,” he whispered.

She recognized Henry’s calloused fingers on her wrist. “We’re here, Darbs.”

Robertson gave her arm an encouraging pat.

A tear escaped one corner of her eye as her chest swelled with warmth and affection at their show of support. She leaned into Fitz, allowing him to take on the burden of keeping her from falling as she poured all her energy into reaching out for her magic.

It was there, but just barely out of reach.

Henry squeezed her arm.

If I die from drinking poisoned coffee, Henry will never forgive himself. I can’t let that happen.

She tried again and succeeded in snagging a tiny thread. She drew it into herself, like pulling a string through the eye of a needle, and directed it through her system, searching for the dark, ugly streams of poison that were already beginning to make their way through her blood. Beads of sweat formed on her brow as she wrapped the magic around the poison and tried to neutralize it. Her stomach heaved, and she shuddered.

It’s not going to be enough.

“You can do this, Darby.” Fitz’s voice was low and hoarse beside her ear. “You’re too clever and too strong to let a little poison do you in.” He pressed a kiss to her temple, one corner of his mouth touching the tips of her fingers.

Butterflies erupted in her stomach, sending an excited, nervous energy all the way up her spine and into her arms. It was just enough. She pulled more magic in, shoving it through like the steam that ran through Henry’s pipes. As the seconds went by and the magic slowly did its work, she began to feel more and more like herself.

She finally dropped her hands and opened her eyes. “I’m fine.”

Henry, still holding onto her wrist, sagged in relief until his elbows hit the counter. “Praise Deus.”

Rather than releasing her, Fitz’s arm around her tightened. “I knew you could do it. But we need to limit your number of near-death experiences—the heart you built me can’t take it.”

She huffed out a laugh as she shifted, settling into a more comfortable position and ignoring the knowing look Henry was giving her as his eyes flitted meaningfully from her to the captain behind her.

He let go and picked up the container of cocoa powder. “How did you know?” He directed his question to Robertson.

Robertson tapped his nose. “Almonds. It’s a dead giveaway, if you’ll pardon the expression. The Lavenzian soldiers use cyanide—or they did, anyway—to torture their prisoners. Four men would be seated blindfolded at a table and four cups placed in the center. Three would be poisoned and one would be safe, but the prisoners were never told which. They would be held at gunpoint and forced to drink.” His jaw clenched. “After a few rounds, I got pretty good at identifying the smell of almonds.”

Darby shuddered in revulsion. “That’s horrible.”

“It is. It also means that this wasn’t an accident. Someone wants you dead, Miss Shelton, and whoever it is knows you well enough to know that Henry makes you special coffee every morning.”

The thought made her sick. “But…who? And why? I don’t think I’ve done anything to make anyone hate me that much. I go to work, I do my job, and I go home.”

“What about that blonde doctor?” Fitz suggested. “The one that we met yesterday.”

“Lacey?”

“Yes. She certainly seems to be holding some kind of grudge against you.”