The sun rose over Sanctum and cast a warm-looking light on the West Tower.
Mirabelle woke up feeling weight on the bed. She saw Revas at the foot of the mattress, wearing a new dark velvet suit that he probably took from a nobleman's wardrobe last night. He was reading a book upside down.
"Good morning, Sunshine," he greeted, tossing the book aside. "Did you know that according to this 'Book of Etiquette,' it is considered rude to stab your guests with a salad fork? Humans have such arbitrary rules."
Mirabelle sat up and pushed her hair back. The bond between them hummed with a low, steady energy. She could sense that he was bored and restless.
"Is the assassin really gone?" she asked, her voice raspy with sleep.
"Not entirely," Revas said cheerfully. "I kept a finger bone. For a souvenir. It's in my pocket."
Mirabelle sighed, swinging her legs out of bed. "We have breakfast with the King in an hour. It's mandatory for the Royal Family."
Revas' eyes lit up. "Breakfast? Excellent. I'm starving. I hope they serve something raw."
The Royal Dining Hall was a huge room made of marble and gold. Portraits of past kings lined the walls, their eyes seeming to judge everyone below.
King Theodoric sat at the head of the long table and looked tired, as if he hadn't slept. Princess Fiona sat to his right. Her makeup was perfect, but her eyes looked tired.
When the doors opened and Mirabelle walked in with her tall, dark-haired Guardian, the room went silent.
"Father. Sister," Mirabelle said, performing a stiff, perfect curtsy. "Thank you for the warm welcome last night. The accommodations were... rustic."
"Mirabelle," the King nodded, forcing a smile that didn't reach his eyes. "We are... overjoyed to see you rested. And your... companion."
Revas bowed low. "Lord Revas, at your service, Your Majesty. I trust you slept well? No bad dreams of monsters under the bed?"
The King flinched.
They sat down. Servants brought out silver platters filled with fruit, pastries, and roasted meats. Revas didn't seem impressed, but he still stacked a large pile of bacon on his plate.
"So," Fiona began, her voice brittle. She picked up a silver teapot. "Tell us, Mirabelle. How exactly did you survive? The Abyss is said to be... inescapable."
She poured a cup of tea, her hand shaking a little, and pushed the cup toward Mirabelle.
"Here. Drink. You look pale."
Mirabelle reached for the cup.
Revas' hand shot out.
He didn't take Mirabelle's hand. Instead, he grabbed the saucer and stopped the tea.
"Allow me, Mistress," Revas said. He lifted the china cup to his nose and took a deep breath. His eyes closed, and he looked pleased.
"Ah," he sighed. "Earl Grey. Bergamot. A hint of honey..."
He opened his violet eyes and looked straight at Fiona.
"...and Nightshade. A double dose, if I'm not mistaken."
The King dropped his fork, making the cutlery clatter. Fiona's face went pale.
"How dare you!" Fiona shrieked, standing up. "You accuse a Princess of poisoning her own sister?"
"I accuse you of having terrible taste in poison," Revas corrected smoothly. "Nightshade is so pedestrian. It leaves a bitter aftertaste. Next time, try Arsenic. It's flavorless, much more refined."
"Guard!" Fiona screamed. "He is mad! Remove him!"
"Sit down, Fiona," Mirabelle said. Her voice was quiet, but it commanded the room.
Mirabelle glanced at the tea in Revas' hand. She could sense his amusement through their bond. He wasn't worried; he was just having fun.
"The Abyss changed me, sister," Mirabelle lied effortlessly. "The Guardian blessed me. Mortal poisons cannot harm the Saintess."
She looked at Revas. "Drink it."
The King gasped. "Mirabelle, no!"
Revas winked at the King. He kept looking at Fiona as he tipped the cup back and drank it all at once.
He set the cup down, and it made a soft clink.
"Delicious," Revas proclaimed. He licked his lips. "A bit acidic, but it has a nice kick."
Fiona stared at him in shock. That much poison should have killed a horse in seconds. Revas only smiled and somehow looked even healthier.
"You see?" Mirabelle said, picking up a piece of toast. "The Abyss protects its own."
Revas leaned forward and rested his elbows on the table. For a moment, his playful act faded, and something darker showed through.
"However," Revas whispered, his voice dropping to a growl that vibrated the silverware. "If you try to feed my Mistress anything other than the finest food again... I will not be so polite. I might decide to check your tea for additives. With your own blood."
The King was trembling. "It... it must have been a mistake in the kitchens! A cook! We will investigate immediately!"
"I'm sure you will, Father," Mirabelle said coldly. She took a bite of toast. "Pass the butter, Revas."
"Certainly, My Lady."
Revas handed her the butter dish with careful, graceful movements.
No one spoke for the rest of the meal. Fiona watched Revas eat, both scared and fascinated. He ate quickly, going through plate after plate of meat, his sharp teeth tearing through bone and gristle.
As they finished, a servant hurried in, bowing low.
"Your Majesty! The High Priest requests an audience. He says... he says the Temple statues are bleeding."
Mirabelle wiped her mouth with a napkin. She exchanged a glance with Revas.
"Bleeding statues?" Revas said, glancing at his pocket watch. "Right on time."
Mirabelle stood up. "Come, Revas. It seems the Gods are crying tears of joy for my return. We should go comfort them."
She walked out of the dining hall, and Revas followed close behind.
As the doors closed, Revas leaned down to her.
"I made the statues bleed while you were brushing your hair," he said with pride. "It's a nice touch, don't you think? It adds to the atmosphere."
"You're enjoying this too much," Mirabelle said.
"I'm a simple creature, Mistress," Revas said with a grin as he adjusted his cuffs. "When I see a house of cards, I want to knock it over."