Suraya’s entire body hurt, though that wasn’t surprising. She’d drunk a cup filled to the brim with liquid Abanthium. Poison that turned the victim’s blood into the consistency of curdled milk. Poison meant for you.

“...Why am I still alive?”

She didn’t have to open her eyes to know you were there. Cowardly as it was, Suraya didn’t think she could handle seeing the betrayal on your face. She wasn’t the one to poison you, but she’d been the one who made it possible by spying on you for a year.