Page 65 of Bitten By the Basilisk

The caterer blanched. “What?”

Using his napkin, Nic picked up the beer to show it to the caterer, whose fae eyes and nose needed only a couple of seconds to discern the truth.

“Indeed. Magical poison.” He turned around, his head swiveling as he searched. “Who brought this out?” He quickly spotted the server, who hadn’t gone far.

The young werewolf held the empty tray clutched against their chest, frozen in horror. “I-I had no idea, sir!”

Silas was only half listening to the conversations happening around him, far more concerned that Alice had also been splashed with the poisoned drink. He reached for her hand with his unaffected left one and cradled it as the half-numb fingers of his right traced her chilled skin.

“Where did it touch you?” he rasped. “Did it get anywhere else?”

“M-mostly my wrist,” she replied. “Is…is it permanent?”

“There is an antidote,” the caterer assured them. “I’ll have it brought to you both as soon as it arrives.”

“What was the despicable soul who did this even thinking?” his father seethed. “If they meant to ensure you’d lose a challenge,” he said to Silas, “they had to have known they would instantly be suspected.”

“Unfortunately, this poison would have prevented Basilisk Silas from revealing that he had been cursed,” the fae caterer explained.

“What?” his father breathed.

Silas looked into Alice’s dark eyes, his heart as full of guilt and concern as it was with relief and gratitude. If she hadn’t been here…

He carefully laid his trembling right hand against her cheek and brushed his thumb across her soft skin. “You prevented a disaster, kitten.”

As his terror receded, rage rose to take its place. His jaw firmed, and he sent a cold, sidelong stare across the courtyard, toward the likeliest suspect.

Lance was observing the commotion along with everyone else, but if he was upset that Silas had avoided ingesting a poison meant to drain his strength, his expression did not indicate as such.

Silas had little hope that someone had seen him or anyone tampering with his drink order or that they’d find some sort of evidence on either Lance or his cronies. Unfortunately, without proof, Silas had no cause to banish him.

“Why would someone do this?” Alice hesitantly asked.

His ire began to sour, as he recognized that some of the blame for her shock and worry lay with him. He had avoided telling her about territorial challenges, despite multiple opportunities.

He held the back of her injured hand against his chest, aware that it had to feel as cold as his did. “A rival who wants my territory intends to challenge me to one-on-one combat, and whoever they are, they wanted to ensure they would win.”

Alice’s shock made him want to curl protectively around her, putting him an instant away from closing the scant remaining distance between them.

“Someone here wants to fight you?” she asked in a screaming whisper.

He firmed his lips and nodded. “I didn’t warn you because I didn’t want to scare you away. Territorial challenges don’t happen that often, but…they are violent.”

“Oh my god,” she breathed.

“I’m sorry, Alice. I should’ve warned you.”

“You know who did it, don’t you?” she said with certainty.

He released a sigh. “I don’t have proof, but I do suspect someone.”

She lifted her shoulders in a flippant shrug. “And you were just hoping they would decide not to challenge you?”

Her accusation was spot-on, but his territorial instinct didn’t like the insinuation that maybe he wasn’t as intimidating as he would like to think, and he tensed with the urge to display his strength. “Do I look easily vanquished to you?”

She blinked, her disapproval shifting into what he hoped was interest, albeit reluctant.

“There is a silver lining,” he said. “Anyone thinking of challenging me now has to contend with being suspected of trying to poison me out of fear they would lose in a fair fight.”