Chapter 208: Poisoned wine
Dax’s brows rose higher at that, his violet gaze sharpening with interest, the faintest smirk tugging at one corner of his mouth as the music and laughter carried on obliviously around them.
"Do you mean poisoned?" he repeated softly, the words slipping from his tongue with the laziness of a man in control. His was curiosity, cold and cutting, the kind of curiosity that made lesser men confess without being asked twice.
Christopher straightened from his bow, heart hammering against his ribs but his voice was steady, far steadier than he felt. "I mean that someone attempted to insult Your Majesty’s table." His black eyes flicked briefly to the glass still in the attendant’s hand, then back to Dax. "And that such an insult does not belong in this hall."
Dax let the words settle. He didn’t blink. He didn’t look away. For a breath, it felt as though the entire glittering hall had narrowed to the space between them, to the glass of wine catching light like a blade. Then, with disturbing calm, Dax shifted in his chair, turning slightly so that the full weight of his presence bore down on the trembling attendant holding the tray.
"Put it down," Dax said, voice low enough that it could have been mistaken for kindness, if not for the edge beneath.
The attendant obeyed immediately, setting the crystal onto a nearby table with hands that now shook just enough to make the wine ripple.
"Now," Dax continued, eyes still on the attendant, "tell me who handed you that glass."
The young man opened his mouth, but no sound came out. His throat bobbed; his face had gone as pale as a sheet.
Christopher felt a surge of grim satisfaction but didn’t let it show. He simply took a step back, keeping his head low in deference, though his eyes stayed on the exchange. ’This is more entertaining than I thought it would be.’
"Answer me," Dax said, softer this time, almost intimate, And far more dangerous for it.