The Poison Witch Who Toppled the Throne

My family finally brings me home after seventeen years, only because their precious false heiress refuses to marry a disgraced prince. At my first royal banquet, her friends mock my upbringing, question my virtue, and tear the locket my mentor left me. I’m still smiling when the Third Prince sees my face across the hall and goes deathly pale. After all, the last time we met, I poisoned him. - The broken chain slips from my neck. My locket hits the floor and springs open. The dried herb inside falls out, and Cecilia crushes it beneath her shoe. My smile slowly fades. I was raised at Valemont Sanctuary for ten years. I learned enough Healing Arts to save lives, but Poison Alchemy was where my real talent lay. Noble or commoner, anyone who took one of my deadliest poisons had less than three days to live. Even my mentor couldn’t cure the worst of them. The day I left Valemont Sanctuary, my mentor gave me this locket. Inside was a single dried healing herb. He told me to look at it whenever I lost my temper, to remember that I had learned to heal people, not poison them whenever they made me angry. I remembered. For seven years, I traveled across the kingdom, saving lives and becoming known as a gentle healer. People gradually forgot the wicked child from Valemont Sanctuary. They only remembered Elara Vane, the healer who saved lives. Then House Ashford found me and told me I was their biological daughter, switched with another child seventeen years ago. The night I returned to the capital, they brought me to this royal banquet. Several young ladies gather around Vivienne, whispering about me. “I heard she grew up far from noble society. Who knows what kind of men she’s been with?” “She’s only here to take Vivienne’s place. If Vivienne wanted to marry that crippled prince, why would the Ashfords bother bringing her back?” I keep smiling. Then Cecilia walks up to me. “A woman with no manners has no business marrying into the royal family.” She shoves me. I move aside, but her hand catches the chain around my neck. The locket breaks. And now the herb lies crushed beneath her shoe. Cecilia still doesn’t realize anything is wrong. “Why did you dodge? I barely touched you.” The other young ladies immediately join her. “She really has no manners.” “Cecilia was only trying to teach her proper etiquette.” “She actually thinks being brought back makes her a proper heiress.” I bend down and pick up my locket without answering. Vivienne finally steps forward and lightly touches Cecilia’s arm. Her eyes are already red. “Cecilia, please. My sister only just came home. Of course she doesn’t understand our customs yet.” Only just came home. Those words draw a clear line between us. I look at her. She looks back. I see caution, hurt, and resentment buried deep in her eyes. Of course she resents me. For seventeen years, she has lived as the daughter of House Ashford and enjoyed everything that should have been mine. Now I’m back, and even the marriage meant for her has fallen to me. Not that anyone considers a disgraced prince with crippled legs a good match. That is exactly why the Ashfords brought me home, and both Vivienne and I know it. She is afraid I’ll take everything from her. But I don’t care. Not about the title, the marriage, or House Ashford. But they should never have touched my locket. My mentor gave it to me. I was never a good child. When I was ten, another apprentice stole my candy, so I slipped something into his tea and kept him running to the bathroom for three days. At eleven, a boy gathering herbs called me a little monster behind my back. I lured him close to a snake den and listened to him cry all night. At twelve, I made my first poison by myself and was too excited to sleep. The same ingredients that save lives can cause unbearable pain if you change the order or the amount. I always found that fascinating. My mentor often told me I was wicked by nature. “You were born wicked, Elara.” Still, he never sent me away. He said letting me loose on the world too young would only hurt people. So he kept me close for ten years. Then I left him and spent seven years pretending to be a gentle healer. I’ve been pretending for so long that these young ladies truly think I’m someone they can bully. My silence only makes Cecilia bolder. “What? You’re too scared to answer? Who knows what kind of people you spent all those years with, or how many men you’ve been with—” Vivienne gives a small frown. “Cecilia.” She sounds like she’s stopping her. But I catch the faint smile at the corner of her mouth. I close my fingers around the broken locket and slowly stand. “Are you finished?” Cecilia blinks. “What?” I look at her and ask again, softly. “Are you finished?” Her smile stiffens. At the same moment, something shatters across the hall. Prince Adrian has dropped his wineglass. He stares at my face, deathly pale. I meet his eyes and smile. Across the hall, the Third Prince instinctively takes a step back.