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

Step 8a: When the moment is right...

Ivelle heard the wedding before she saw it. A hum of voices drifted toward her, strengthening in volume as she crept up the chapel steps, and reaching a crescendo as she arrived upon the balcony.

Gnawing furiously on her invisibility chewing gum, Ivelle edged through the crowd. She fought the urge to prod a few gaudily-dressed ladies who didn't seem to understand that walkways were for walking and not gossiping.

"Quiet!" cried a voice from down below. "If you could all please be seated. We are about to begin."

The gossipy ladies sat down, though not before one of them managed to mutter something demeaning about Castrena, Prince Eirifold, and the king of Estrella, all in the same breath.

Ivelle skirted past them. She gave her invisibility chewing gum a particularly violent chew before peering over the edge of the balcony to gaze at the front of the chapel.

Her eyes found Eirifold and Lillian at the altar, and her stomach clenched painfully.

Lillian, clad in her silver dress festooned with swirls and flowers and frills, stared ahead serenely as the priest mumbled something too far away to hear. With the distance, and the veil, it was hard to make out her expression, but her posture gave no indication that anything was amiss.

Eirifold was a different story. He looked odd in his gold and silver suit, like he was playing a role that didn't suit him. His back was half-toward her, and Ivelle couldn't see his face, but every so often he shifted and ran his fingers through his hair, as though nervous.

Ivelle had warned Eirifold not to eat or drink anything during his dinner with Lillian. She'd prepped him as much as she could about different kinds of poisons, trying to reinforce the need for caution. Still, a part of her had been terrified Lillian might find a clever way to off him during their private dinner, and it was a relief to see him alive and well. She wondered how his conversation with Lillian had gone. Had he and Lillian successfully resolved their differences?

It certainly seemed so, judging by their interlaced hands.

Ivelle's stomach gave a particularly painful lurch.

Stupid, she berated herself. After all, this was exactly what she'd wanted. She'd wanted them to resolve their differences. She'd hoped to see them at the wedding altar, looking at each other with kindness and respect, as they were doing now.

She just hadn't expected it to hurt quite this much.

Ivelle edged around the balcony, trying to catch a glimpse of Eirifold's face. She didn't know what emotion she was hoping to see there. Regret? Sorrow? Some sign he'd miss her if and when she left? She didn't want him to be feeling those things and yet, a small, selfish part of her did want it. Wanted a sign that their interactions had meant something to him – that she meant something to him.

Ivelle tore her eyes away from Eirifold and Lillian's locked hands. Her gaze landed upon the royal box, several meters away from the altar. In the front row, Princess Mariel seemed to be trying to put as much distance as possible between herself and an olive-skinned man in a red-and-gold suit. Ivelle had never seen the man before, but it was easy to surmise from the man's smug expression and fancy suit that he must be Prince Harvald of Luntz, Mariel's future husband.

Behind Mariel and the prince sat King Gorlin, flanked by his pallid wife. The king wore the most disinterested expression Ivelle had ever seen. He didn't appear to be attending to the ceremony in the slightest, but was checking out the bosoms of some befeathered women several seats down.

Creep.

Ivelle turned back to the ceremony. The priest—perhaps having noticed the king's disinterest—had ceased pontificating about love and devotion and duty, or whatever it was that priests pontificated about during royal marriage ceremonies, and was fumbling with a box at his side. As Ivelle watched, he straightened and announced, "It is time for the exchanging of the rings!"