How to Poison Your Husband [COMPLETE! Cozy Romantasy With A Dash Of Murder]

Step 1c: ... and identify relevant stakeholders

"This is demeaning."

"Quit whining." Ivelle didn't like their outfits any more than Ash did. The fabric was scratchy, and the colors were too loud for her taste. But she couldn't help feeling a tingle of glee as she tweaked the crow-sized jester's hat on top of Ash's head. "You look adorable. Oh my God. There are even tiny bells–"

"STAAHHHHPPP!" Ash's wings rose to cover his face in an unmistakable gesture of shame. "My social life is ruined! I'll never be able to show my face in front of the lady crows again!"

Barely a day had gone by since Lady Lillian had visited their shop, but it felt like much longer. The hours after Lillian's arrival had passed in a flurry of packing, boarding up the shop (not that there was anything of value for thieves to steal), and drinking to their good fortune. Now, they sat in a lavish coach, trundling along toward the palace, the grime of the Lower District growing farther behind them with each clip of the horse's hooves.

"Just think about the mansion we're gonna have someday." Ivelle leaned back in the carriage seat, resting her head on her arms with a happy sigh. In a short hour, they would be at the palace, where they would be staying for the weeks leading up to the wedding between Lady Lillian and the Prince of Estrella. "We'll be able to afford a pool. A pool and a rooftop deck! And the best part of it is, I get to design and build it all with my own hands."

"Meh," Ash grumped, not at all mollified. He yawned. "Maybe we'll get a mansion and maybe you can build a pool. If Lady Lillian doesn't bail after the free trial."

"She won't. No one in their right mind could possibly resist the sheer creative genius of our twelve-step plan."

At this, Ash let out his loudest snort yet. "Ya-huh," he said. "She'd better not find out you came up with that plan in five minutes after half a dozen bottles of wine."

"It was only one bottle of wine, thank-you-very-much! And those five minutes of creativity were five of the most inspired and brilliant minutes of my life!" Ivelle crossed her arms. "Plus, the important thing isn't the steps themselves. It's all in the execution."

She'd given the mechanics of poisoning Prince Eirifold a lot of thought last night. Definitely more thought than she'd given the gimmicky 12-step plan she'd scribbled drunkenly onto a napkin and shoved somewhere down in the recesses of her purse. Poisoning a prince was not for the faint-of-heart. No doubt Eirifold had wine tasters and food tasters and probably even suit-tasters (to ensure his clothes weren't smeared with any skin-permeating, lethal creams) at his disposal.

Fortunately for Ivelle, one of the perks of having a Certifiably!Evil mum was that you learned to think outside the box. She was quite certain they could pull this off. Or, worst case scenario, cut and run once Lillian gave them the first 50% of their earnings.

She wondered what her mum would say if she could see her now. Ivelle had pondered this often over the years, especially over the last few months when she'd started sending out fliers advertising her poisoning prowess. What would her mum think of Ivelle's current scheme? Would she be a tiny bit proud of her daughter–if not for any real accomplishments (yet), then at the very least for having the gumption to try something new?

Naaaaah.

Her mum had never been one for the warm fuzzies. Being proud of Ivelle for not giving up was as anathema to Ascoria as giving her daughter a participation trophy for getting fourth place in a spelling bee. Results were the only thing that mattered. Heavy, metallic results, with a molar mass of 196.96657 and the chemical symbol Au.

"We don't wait for good fortune to fall into our lap; we take fortune into our own hands." It was her mum's favorite catchphrase, second only to: "Every minute you spend boohooing about how sad your life is, a tax collector siphons another gold piece into the king's treasury and out of reach!"