A beat passed.
Then another.
Nothing happened.
Aria's lungs burned with the weight of her silence. She tried—truly tried—to keep her expression neutral, to focus on her food, to not glance in his direction, but her eyes betrayed her over and over.
They kept flicking toward Zyren, helplessly drawn to him, seeking the slightest shift in his demeanor. Anything. But he remained seated, poised, calmly chewing like he hadn't just drunk death itself.
The longer he stayed still, the more her anxiety surged.
Her fingers clenched together until her neails dug into her palms. 'Why isn't he reacting?' she screamed inwardly. 'He should be choking by now—writhing in pain!'
She had poured the entire vial into his cup. Every last drop. That potion wasn't just poisonous—it was designed to attack the essence of a vampire's immortal core. There was no way it hadn't taken effect. If it hadn't… if Zyren truly wasn't affected…
Then she might as well give up. Surrender. Curl into a ball and die!
