Page 109 of Devoured

She winces again, but she releases her rag. “Okay.” She stands before lifting the wine. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to overstep—”

“You didn’t,” I snap. “Just go.”

Fortunately, she runs off toward the Great Hall without another word. Over the next half hour, six different servers will pour wine for hundreds of thirsty werewolves. We have compelled them to serve Sin, Cora, her most distinguished guests, and us, of course, from separate, unpoisoned bottles. It’s a risk, using poison again after the fiasco with Antarctica, but this poison isn’t like the last.

Insania is subtle. Instead of causing paralysis, it heightens emotions in the drinker: anxiety, irritability, lust, excitement. For Cora’s werewolves, that means anger and aggression. That means death.

As I take my seat at the end of the second banquet table, I glance toward Vanessa. She’s already watching me. With a forced grin on her face, she raises her goblet of wine in someone else’s direction and pretends to take a long, deep sip.

I grin to myself, almost as if in return. Only mine isn’t forced at all.

Part one of the evening’s plan is complete. Now we just have to sit back and watch the Great Hall implode.

Cora entertains her guests with false stories of her heroism in stopping the Court of Antarctica from usurping her. She tells an African ambassador—Baron Ikenna Okeke of Lagos, Nigeria—that she freed Valja to show Antarctica that she, unlike them, is merciful in her rule. She tells an Australian ambassador—Countess Rikki Sertori of New South Wales—that she sealed the Realm of Superiority forest out of respect for the deceased. “I never wanted to murder them,” she says, holding her head high and with it, her crown higher, “but they fought me, and they were poison. I am here to leech that poison from our world.”

I clench my hands in my lap and tear holes in my napkin.

Cora brags about her innate sense of strategy, about the strength of her court, and with every word from her disgusting lips, I shred through more and more of the linen. Blood simmers in my veins. I even contemplate leaping across the hall and impaling her with a steak knife. But Vanessa catches my eye before I can act on the impulse, shaking her head just slightly before tipping it down the table toward Portia, who sits between Jasper and Luca, cutting her meat into perfect pieces.

“That shirt,” Portia says to Luca, “sets off your eyes to perfection.” When Luca scoffs, shrugging, Portia shakes her head earnestly. “No, no, it does! Even Cora noticed.” That catches his attention—and the attention of Jasper, who leans forward to glare at them. Portia lowers her voice conspiratorially. “I caught her staring at you earlier. If you ask me, she likes your eyes too…”

Her voice trails off suggestively as Jasper scowls, stabbing his steak knife into the table before seizing his goblet and draining the rest of his wine. Good.

Across from them, Calix sits wedged between two women with flame-red hair—Jasmine and Liliana. Cheeks flushed and eyes dilated, each wears a flirtatious grin as they jostle for his attention. Something they’d never do without the insania.

“I told you that’s my fork,” mutters a Beta two seats down from my own. The Delta at whom he’s glaring—a fork thief, apparently, and seated right beside me—stammers an anxious apology. I lean forward on my elbow, flicking a bored look between them.

“Don’t be an ass, Brody.”

The Beta’s golden eyes flash. “How about you don’t be a nosy bitch?”

If Cora doesn’t kill him tonight, maybe I will. I tap my claws upon the table, trying and failing to remain untouched by the restless energy rising within the hall. Cora hasn’t yet noticed. She remains wholly consumed by whatever Baron Ikenna is saying.

When Calix accidentally brushes Liliana’s arm while reaching for the gravy, however, the girl’s smile turns gloating, and Jasmine retaliates by knocking an elbow into her goblet. Crimson wine spills into Liliana’s lap, and her startled shriek attracts the attention of Cora, who pauses in her conversation with Baron Ikenna. Her eyes narrow at the crimson liquid spilling underfoot.

“Arielle,” she snaps, waving a hand as the Mind Reader passes. “Clean this up. Now. And no more wine, I think.” She lifts her chin, frowning as if just realizing how loud her wolves have grown. As if they aren’t always the most obnoxious bastards in the world.

Baron Ikenna laughs. “I wouldn’t worry, Cora. These functions are always too quiet for my taste.” Winking heartily at Arielle, he takes another long swig, and Cora has no choice but to match his laugh. It scrapes like a dull blade.

“You’re right, of course. I suppose we’re all owed a moment of drunken revelry once in a while.” Flicking a wrist at Arielle, she says through a clenched smile, “Go on, then. You heard Baron Ikenna. Fill everyone’s glass.”

The Delta beside me bursts into tears in response, completely unprovoked this time. I fix him with an incredulous look as Cora’s eyes flash in our direction. When Vanessa half rises across the table, already opening her mouth to comfort him, Cora spears her with a glare. “Sit down, Vanessa. And why on earth are you crying, Garnet? Stop it at once.” But Garnet cannot seem to stop, and awkward laughter ripples through Cora’s ambassadors as Cora’s knuckles whiten around her fork.

“Perhaps we’ve all indulged a bit much tonight.” Countess Rikki chuckles before sending Garnet a sympathetic glance.

Cora grinds her teeth and nods, but before she can recapture Baron Ikenna’s attention, a commotion breaks out as Luca tells Portia—in a carrying whisper just loud enough to be overheard by Jasper—he plans to ask Cora on a midnight stroll after dinner. Clapping her hands together, Portia exclaims, “How romantic!”

Jasper responds by launching himself across the turkey platter at Luca’s throat.

And so it begins.

“Stop it!” Cora lurches to her feet, mouth parting in shock that quickly transforms to anger. Her brows snap together. Her fangs descend. “What are you—? Jasper, I said stop. Sit down—” He isn’t looking at her, too intent on sinking his own teeth into Luca’s jugular. The two idiots crash to the floor as Portia darts for cover, and Liliana lunges past Calix to seize Jasmine’s flame-colored hair.

Calix scoots backward with preternatural speed, and momentum sends the two sisters sprawling into Baron Ikenna’s lap. Cora wrenches them both upright just as Garnet’s sobs escalate because Brody has stabbed him in the hand with the stolen fork. Blood spatters the white tablecloth—and saliva.

My lip curls in a small smile. A flicker of happiness sparks in my gut.

It is so nice to watch them bleed.