The morning did not arrive gently.
It came with the sound of silk dragging against marble floors and the smell of something rotten hidden beneath roses.
The Queen Dowager stood near the carved balcony of her chambers, dressed in deep crimson robes that flowed around her like spilled blood. In her hand sat a small black vial. Tiny. Harmless looking.
Yet powerful enough to kill a god.
Or at least she hoped so.
Her fingers tightened around it as one of her personal maids knelt before her with trembling hands.
"You will pour the entire thing into her tea," the Queen Dowager instructed calmly. "Not half. Not a sip. Everything."
The maid swallowed hard. "Y-yes, your majesty."
The Queen Dowager crouched slightly, gripping the maid's chin between two cold fingers.
"And if you fail me…" her voice softened dangerously. "I will make your death last seven days."
The maid nearly collapsed from fear.
The Queen Dowager released her with disgust before turning away. "Go."
