Lyra’s POV
Her thoughts drifted back to Lysa, uninvited but persistent.
Why had she rushed in so quickly?
Was it habit?
Was it fear of being left out?
Or was she simply doing what she had always done with the former head cook?
She pressed her lips together.
Do not jump to conclusions, she told herself.
That was how mistakes were made.
Lysa could be innocent.
Lysa could know nothing at all.
Not everyone who stood close to danger was part of it.
Still, the unease would not leave.
Lysa had delivered his meals.
Lysa had access.
Lysa had been trusted.
Or maybe she was overthinking.
Maybe her fear was seeing patterns where there were none.
She had spent too long learning how poison worked, how timing worked, how betrayal worked.
Sometimes that knowledge became a curse.
She shook her head slightly and reached for the next crate, forcing herself to focus on what was in front of her.
“Next row,” Marley said, adjusting the manifest.
She nodded and stepped forward.
Then she froze.
Her breath caught sharply in her chest.
Lyra’s hand hovered just above the crate, fingers trembling, as a cold realization crept up her spine.
She knew the smell before she fully understood what she was seeing.
It was faint.
Almost hidden beneath the sharp scent of dried bark and packed herbs.
Anyone who was not looking for it would have missed it completely.
Anyone who did not know it would have thought it harmless.
But she knew it.
Her stomach turned cold.
Ashvine.
Her fingers tightened slowly against the edge of the crate as she leaned closer, careful not to disturb anything.
Inside, wrapped between bundles of dried mountain herbs meant for teas and stews, was a smaller packet.
The wrapping was thicker.
Treated.
Sealed to keep the scent low.
Ashvine poison.
Her heart began to race, but she forced herself to breathe evenly.
Panic would only draw attention.
Panic would ruin everything.
She straightened and slowly closed the crate, making sure the lid sat exactly as it had before.
Marley was already beside her.
“What is it?” he asked quietly, reading her face at once.
“Did you find something wrong?”
She shook her head, keeping her voice low.
“Not here,” she said.
“Leave this cart for now.
We can continue with the others.”
He frowned.
“Leave it?” he asked.
“Yes,” she said gently but firmly.
“Just for a moment.”
His eyes searched hers, confusion clear, but he nodded.
“Alright,” he said.
They moved away from the crate, and as they did, she felt it.
Eyes on her.
She did not have to look to know who it was.
Still, she glanced up briefly and saw Lysa standing near the edge of the courtyard, pretending to speak with another worker while watching them too closely.
She turned back to Marley and lowered her voice even more.
“Is it possible to get the Alpha here?” she asked.
He blinked.
“Now?
This early?” He shook his head slightly.
“I do not think so.
Unless it is urgent.
And I do not see what in the supplies would demand his attention.”
She leaned closer, her voice barely more than a breath.
“What if it is about the Ashvine poison?” she whispered.
His face changed instantly.
His eyes widened, then hardened.
“You found it?” he asked.
She nodded once.
He swore under his breath.
“Damn it,” he muttered.
Without another word, he turned sharply and raised his hand.
“Oslo,” he called.
One of the guards stationed nearby stepped forward at once.
“Yes?” he answered.
Marley reached into his jacket and pulled out a small badge.
It bore a crest she recognized immediately.
She had seen it in the Alpha’s chambers.
She had seen it embroidered into the edge of his cloak.
Power.
Authority.
“Go straight to the Beta’s room,” Marley said, his voice firm and controlled.
“Show him this and tell him it is urgent.
Tell him we are in the courtyard.”
Lyra watched Oslo disappear through the archway, the badge catching the early light for just a second before it was gone.
Her heart was still beating too fast, her thoughts tangling over each other.
She turned slowly to Marley.
“That crest,” she said quietly.
“I have seen it before.
In the Alpha’s chambers.
On his cloak.” She hesitated, then asked, “What is it?”
Marley met her gaze, then looked away, already walking back toward the crates they had left untouched.
“You do not need to know,” he said calmly.
Her brows drew together.
“I think I do,” she said.
“If I have to trust you with this, then I should know who I am standing with.”
He stopped and looked at her then, really looked at her, as if weighing something.
For a moment, she thought he might tell her.
Instead, he sighed.
“Finish the remaining supplies with me,” he said.
“Before the Alpha arrives.
The less attention we draw, the better.”
She followed him, still uneasy.
“I thought you sent for the Beta,” she said as they reached the next row of crates.
“I did,” he replied, lifting a lid and checking the seal.
“Ash knows what to do when he sees that crest.”
Her hands stilled.
“Ash will get the Alpha,” she said slowly.
Marley glanced at her, a corner of his mouth lifting.
“Exactly,” he said.
That only raised more questions.
She swallowed, then asked the one that had been forming since the moment he pulled the badge out.
“Who are you?” she asked softly.
He chuckled under his breath, already moving another crate aside.
“It is best you do not know,” he said easily.
“For you, I am simply your kitchen assistant.”
She did not smile back.
Her instincts told her that was not true.
Not even close.
Still, she nodded and forced herself to focus as they returned to work.
They checked the remaining crates one by one, her movements careful, her senses sharp.
Every seal.
Every bundle.
Every scent.
All the while, she could feel it.
Something had shifted.
The poison was no longer hidden.
The game was no longer quiet.
And whoever had placed that Ashvine in the supplies had just lost their advantage.
As she moved the lid back into place and pressed her palm flat against the crate, the truth settled into her bones with a strange calm.
This batch should never have been here if the poison had truly gone unnoticed.
No one careful would send the same thing twice unless they believed the first attempt was still working.
Which meant the person behind it did not know the Ashvine had already been discovered.
Her thoughts sharpened, lining up one after the other.
Someone was feeding information.
Someone was waiting for results that never came.
And somewhere between the person who was supposed to have collected the poison and the person who placed it in the supplies, there was a break.
A gap.
A bridge that had cracked without them realizing it.
That bridge was their chance.
If they acted too fast, the person would panic and disappear.
If they stayed silent, the poison would keep coming.
But if they moved carefully, if they let the enemy believe the plan was still unfolding as expected, then the traitor would grow bold.
Comfortable.
Sloppy.
She lifted her head slowly, her gaze drifting toward the edge of the courtyard where Lysa still stood, pretending to be busy while watching them far too closely.
Lyra did not let her expression change.
She did not let her hands shake.
They needed to use this moment.
They needed to watch who waited for results, who asked questions, who grew impatient when nothing seemed to change.