Lord Orvald looked across the table to Reisha and raised his glass in a toast. She smiled and did likewise.
“Ah, my love,” he said, “it saddens me to go. What would you do if I died in battle?”
“Were you dead, my lord,” Reisha murmured, “I would die as well, and gladly.”
He chuckled and made to reach for her, but his limbs became cold and limp. He stared in horror at the wineglass still in his hand, and then to Reisha, slumping down beside him.
“Poisoned? Why?” he gasped.
“I have told you already.” She smiled. “My lord.”
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