Peta smiled, slow and sure. “Only the right to stand close enough to use it. When the assassin’s blade comes, let my heart be your shield. When the poison is poured, let my instincts be your taster. You have a thousand people who would die for you from a distance, Your Magnificence. I am the only one asking to die against you.”
“Your Magnificence,” Peta said, her voice a silken purl that cut through the court’s murmur. She did not bow. Instead, she placed a hand on the plunging neckline of her gown of midnight velvet. It was a calculated gesture, theatrical and absurd, yet delivered with the gravity of a high priestess at an altar. peta pledges her cleavage allegiance
“Precisely,” Peta said, stepping closer. She was not flaunting; she was offering. “You have generals for your armies, spymasters for your shadows, and accountants for your gold. But who guards the heart’s antechamber? Who holds the loyalty that cannot be bought, but must be felt ?” Peta smiled, slow and sure
A titter ran through the crowd. Lord Valerius, the Master of Whispers, choked on his wine. The Sovereign’s eyebrow arched, a flicker of genuine amusement crossing their angular face. When the poison is poured, let my instincts be your taster