“Fuck Wheel, and fuck the Ancestor.” Apple set one hand to Kettle’s chest, kneeling above her, ready to push. She took the hilt of the knife in her other hand. “You’re mine and I won’t lose you.” She bent her head and tears fell. “Let me do it.” Her mouth twitched and the words came out broken. “Please.” “Poisoner.” Kettle found the strength to raise a hand, running white fingers into the flame of Apple’s hair. She held her a moment. “Poison me.”
