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

Step 7c: ...and don't let him break your heart

No, no, no! Saffron couldn't have escaped, not now, not when everything was already going so badly. Ivelle spun on her heel, frantically scanning the room for any sign – any hint – of her ex-husband's whereabouts.

Eirifold caught her arm.

"He's a few rooms down, being watched by some guards. I thought it was inhumane to keep him trapped in the dog crate for days at a time and wanted to give him more room to run around. I didn't set him free."

Ivelle swayed on her feet, clutching her hair in relief. Eirifold studied her, worry filling his dark eyes.

"Ivelle, are you quite all right?" He tilted her chin up to study her face, frowning as his eyes landed on the bags under her eyes. "When was the last time you slept?"

"Don't"—Ivelle jabbed a finger at his chest, trying to stifle a sudden yawn—"Don't do that."

"Do what?"

"Talk to me like you're a nice person. Don't!"

"Are you drunk?"

Was she?

She'd barely slept in three days. She vaguely remembered Ash once telling her sleep deprivation was roughly the equivalent to being drunk when it came to one's actions and decision-making abilities.

Poor Ash. He was probably going to die, and here she was, floundering like a lost fish, when she should have been at his side comforting him.

No. She would finish what she'd come here to do: she would confront Eirifold about what Lillian had said. Then she would return to Ash.

Ivelle yawned. With what seemed like a supreme amount of effort, she forced her eyelids open. "Lillian," she ground out, "told me something interesting recently. Do you want to hear it?"

"I suspect you'll tell me, whether I want to hear or not."

"She told me you murdered her brother."

Eirifold let out a short, humorless laugh. "Did she, now?"

"Is it true?"

"I think," Eirifold said, "I'm going to need more alcohol for this conversation."

He started toward his wine cabinet.

"Don't you dare."

Ivelle hurried forward to block Eirifold's path. Perhaps due to his inebriated state, the prince wasn't able to dodge in time, and his foot landed on her big toe. With a hiss of pain, Ivelle grabbed his sleeve, imbalancing him further. They careened into Eirifold's massive four-poster, toppling onto his red-and-gold comforter with a disgruntled, "Oof!"

He stared at her sadly from across the bed. Ivelle thought about scrambling to her feet, but she was too exhausted, and the bed was too comfortable.

Instead, she propped her head on her hand. "Why did you kill Lillian's brother?" she asked, refusing to be deterred.

He sighed. "Do you want the Edge-lordy 'because I'm a terrible person and a cold-blooded killer' type of answer, or do you want a more watered-down version?"

"I want the truth."

He looked away. Ivelle tensed, preparing for him to reply with something self-deprecating and evasive and inevitably unhelpful.

Instead, he rolled onto his back. Silence filled the room, a suffocating silence that seemed to weigh on the air. If not for the distant chirp of sparrows and gurgle of the fountain just outside, Ivelle would have felt almost smothered.