Modric’s POV
Darius lifted the silver cup toward his mouth.
“Stop.”
My voice cut across the arena.
He paused, but the rim had already touched his lips.
Too late.
I smelled the poison again.
It was faint beneath the clean scent of the ceremonial water, hidden carefully enough that most wolves would never notice. My injured body had made my senses sharper around anything that resembled the substances already used against me.
Darius lowered his cup.
“What?”
“Do not drink that.”
The crowd began murmuring.
Gregor rose from his council seat.
“The ceremonial water has been inspected.”
“Then inspect it again.”
I placed my own cup back on the attendant’s tray without taking a sip.
The young servant holding it looked terrified. His hands shook, making the water tremble inside the sil
