Chapter 3: The Cold Wedding Vow

Keith did not rip off her mask. Instead, he poured two goblets of spiced mulled wine.

"Drink," he commanded, handing her the silver cup.

Clara raised the goblet to her lips, but her trained senses caught the faint scent of bitter almond. Wolfsbane. The wine was laced with lethal poison.

She looked up into Keith's cold gray eyes. Did he suspect her identity already, or was this poison intended for her sister?

With a subtle tilt of her wrist, Clara dumped the poisoned draught into the potted fern behind her velvet chair while pretending to swallow.

"An exquisite vintage, Your Grace," she whispered, setting the empty goblet down with a steady hand.