Bitter Seasoning
Talia moved through the Thorne kitchen like a shadow- quiet, unseen, yet fully aware of every polished surface and gleaming utensil. She measured the ingredients with the care of someone who had something to prove. Or maybe, something to lose.
She stared at the small jar in her hand- powdered hazelnut. A harmless baking ingredient, unless you had an allergy.
Unless you were Valeria, whose name was still sweetly echoing from the living room in that voice Damon rarely used with anyone.
Talia added just enough to be subtle, just enough to hide beneath the creamy sauce of the fettuccine she plated.
She served it without a word, setting the dishes before Damon and Valeria with grace, her face a calm mask.
"Smells divine," Valeria purred, not even sparing Talia a glance. She twirled the pasta onto her fork and took a bite.
"You're useful for something, I suppose."
Damon said nothing, cutting into his meal, while Talia stood to the side, hands folded. Her gaze dropped to the empty floor. If she focused there, she wouldn't see how Damon's hand rested easily near Valeria's, or how Valeria laughed with her whole body tilted toward him.
Then came the shatter.
A glass cup crashed to the floor beside Valeria's seat.
Talia blinked.
The maid had just cleared the area. That glass hadn't been there before.
Valeria gasped in mock shock. "Oh no. Talia! You need to be more careful!"
" I didn't-"
"Talia," Damon's voice sliced through hers, cold and absolute."Clean it up."
She didn't move at first.
Valeria added with a sweet smile, "Yes, dear, we wouldn't want anyone to step on glass now, would we?"
Talia knelt slowly, collecting the shards with her bare hands. A tiny silver cut into her palm, but she didn't flinch. Not even when her blood smeared across a piece of crystal. Not even when Damon stood and stepped over her as if she were part of the flooring.
She disposed of the broken glass and retreated to the kitchen. Her hand trembled as she turned on the tap, letting water rinse the blood from her skin. She didn't bandage it. She needed to feel the sting.
Minutes passed. The house was quiet again.
Then came the scream.
Valeria.
Talia paused with a dish in hand, heart thudding.
Footsteps thundered toward the kitchen.
Damon's voice barked out, "Talia!"
She emerged slowly, eyes trained on the hallway. Valeria sat slumped on the couch, her skin blotched red, scratching at her neck.
"She's having a reaction," Damon snapped. "What did you put in this food?"
Talia said nothing.
He stepped closer, eyes flaring with something she couldn't name. "Answer me!"
Still, she didn't speak. Her lips parted slightly but no sound came. She neither admitted nor denied. She let the silence tell its own story.
"Call the doctor," he yelled over his shoulder.
As a maid ran off, Damon turned to the butler, who had arrived just in time to see the chaos.
"What's the consequence," Damon asked, his voice low and lethal, "for intentional food poisoning in this house?"
Talia blinked. Her throat went dry.
The butler's eyes shifted between the three of them. "It depends, sir... but the punishment is rarely light."
Talia swallowed.
And waited.