Page 102 of Freed

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“Someone,” I continue, looking at each face in turn, “tried to poison her.”

The words hit the room like a gunshot. The older maidgasps. The cook mutters a prayer beneath his breath. One of the guards straightens too fast, as if panic has jerked his spine upright.

Cesaro reacts first, voice clipped. “Who would do such a thing?”

“That,” I say softly, “is exactly what I intend to find out.”

I turn to Cesaro. “You told me you took her water upstairs last night.”

“I did, sir.” Then he points toward one of the younger maids. “But only because she was carrying a tray that looked too heavy. I offered to take it up for her. I swear to God, Boss, I didn’t do anything to harm her.”

I shift my gaze to the maid. She can’t be more than twenty. Dark eyes. Thin shoulders. Hands twisting in her apron so tightly her knuckles have gone bloodless.

“And you?” I ask.

Her eyes fill instantly. “Sir, it was just water.”

“Just water,” I repeat, and the smile that touches my mouth is dark enough to make her flinch. “Is that so?”

“Yes, sir.”

I motion for her to step forward. She hesitates.

Bad choice.

“Come here.”

She obeys this time, each step small and shaky, like she’s walking herself to the block.

I tap the bagged glass with one finger. “Take a sip.”

Her lips part. “What?”

“You heard me.” My voice stays quiet. That only makes it worse. “If it’s just water, you should have no problem swallowing it.”

“No, sir, I?—”

“Drink.”

Cesaro slides the glass from the bag and sets it in front of her.

The whole room has gone still.

She reaches for it with trembling fingers and lifts it to her mouth. Takes the smallest sip possible.

I tilt my head. “Oh, you can do better than that.”

Tears spill down her cheeks as she swallows and takes a larger drink. For one suspended second, nothing happens. Then she makes a strangled sound and doubles over, one hand flying to her stomach.

The other maid starts crying outright. The housekeeper closes her eyes briefly, lips moving in silent prayer.

And me?

I feel nothing.

Not pity. Not hesitation. Certainly not mercy.

I only watch.