The Silver Spoon

I carried the two glasses to the window ledge, behind a tall potted fern, where no one could jostle us. Nora followed, and I set both of them down side by side. They looked so harmless. Pale yellow, cool and bright, with a bubble or two rising slowly to the top.

"My lady, who sent them?" Nora asked quietly.

"I do not know. Vivienne is across the room. She did not even look at us." I took out the silver spoon from the pocket in my skirt. "That is why I will test them."

"The old women's trick?"

"The old women's trick."

I dipped the spoon in the first glass, and counted slowly to thirty. When I lifted it out, the silver was bright and clean. I did the same with the second glass.

Nothing. Not a mark.

"It is clean," Nora said, her shoulders dropping with relief. "So it is safe!"

"No." I fixed my eyes on the spoon. "It means nothing, Nora. I told you it was only a story. The book in the Archive said that Nightbloom has no taste, no smell, and no color. I do not think silver can see it. A spoon can only warn you about a few poisons. This one was designed to hide."

"But if it is clean —"

"Then it is clean of the poisons that silver can find. That is all it tells us." I put the spoon back in my pocket. "We will not drink it. We will not touch it. We will leave it here, and forget it."

"But, my lady, if Lady Vivienne sent it, and it is only lemonade…" Nora's voice was small. "We will insult her. She is already so frightened."

It was true. And that was the trap in it, small and clever. If I refused the gift of a friend in front of the whole court, I would break her heart, and I would look like a madwoman.

"Wait here," I said. "I will ask her myself."

I put my hand on Nora's arm. "Stay by the window. Do not touch anything on this ledge. Promise me."

"I promise, my lady."

I crossed the floor, weaving through the dancers. It took me longer than I wanted. A tall man in a cat mask stepped on my hem. A lady with a feather fan stopped me to compliment my dress. By the time I reached Vivienne's pillar, six minutes had gone.

"Vivi," I said, catching her sleeve. "Did you send me a glass of lemonade?"

She blinked at me behind her violet mask. "Lemonade? No. I have not touched a drop of anything all night. I could not. My stomach…" Her eyes widened. "Elise, why?"

I did not answer.

I was already turning around.

I ran. I do not remember pushing through the crowd, only a blur of silk and masks and angry faces. Somewhere behind me, Vivienne was calling my name.

And across the ballroom, the great clock struck the quarter hour, and a deep, golden fanfare of trumpets rang out from the orchestra balcony.

Everyone turned toward the dais. A tall man in a crown of gold, with a gray-streaked beard, had risen from his throne. King Alaric lifted both his arms.

"My lords and ladies! Friends! It is nearly midnight. Let us raise our glasses to the summer, to the kingdom, and to my beloved son!"

A hundred servants appeared with trays of champagne. Glasses appeared in every hand. The entire room turned and lifted their drinks, and the faces of the crowd blocked my way like a living wall.