Matthias’s fingers brushed the brocade box. The cool silk against his skin couldn’t hide the sweat dampening his palms.
He glanced at Nikolai, who was locked in a drinking contest with Batu. The man tilted his head back, gulping down a large bowl of amber liquor in one breath. His Adam’s apple moved sharply, and his eyes drifted—just for a second—toward the copper kettle in the corner of the ice house.
That was where they had hidden the knockout drug. It came from a sweet-scented poisonous herb found on the ice fields, impossible to distinguish once mixed with strong liquor.
“Chief Batu has a truly impressive tolerance!” Nikolai slammed his empty bowl down on the table, sending ice chips scattering. “This ‘Ice Burn’ is as fierce as fire. Anyone else would’ve dropped already, but you don’t even flinch. Truly, you are the Eagle of the Snowfield!”
Batu burst into laughter, his amber eyes narrowing to slits. He slapped Matthias’s shoulder with a strength that nearly knocked him sideways. “Hello!”
His words were rough, but the raw enthusiasm behind them left no room for refusal. He filled Matthias’s bowl himself.
Matthias swallowed the burning liquor, smiling as though unfazed. “It is my honor to drink with Chief Batu.”
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