Harley’s P.O.V.

The moment that crimson liquid touched his tongue, Henry’s eyes widened. The glass slipped from his hand, shattering on the marble floor with a loud bang. His face turned ashen, then an unnatural shade of blue that spread fast across his skin.

Henry straightened, forcing composure back into his gestures. His chair scraped loudly against the marble as he stood.

“Excuse me!”

He said it curtly, and without another glance, he left in a hurry, prevailing an awkward silence in the dining hall. Even the clink of silverware had been stopped now, thickening the air.

Aunt Freya half-rose from her chair, worry flashing across her face.

“I’ll go...