Phryne knew she didn't have a choice but to drink from the goblet. She took a tentative sip and was surprised to find that the liquid was sweet and thick. "All of it," Rhodes pressed. Choking a little, Phryne swallowed the rest of the contents of the goblet.
"There," she said to no one in particular. "But I meant what I said," she continued after a beat. "He's not one of your loyals, he won't follow you to the Afterlife or anywhere else."
"Quiet," Rhodes commanded, brandishing her revolver.
"He's waiting you out for the sake of the treasure. He'll claim the discovery of King Memses's tomb for his own glory."
"Give me the gun," said Foyle quietly.
"None of it's true," Rhodes insisted.
"I know. Because the plan was always that you would proceed me into the Afterlife for your own loyalty, give me the gun." It was almost alarming how calmly Foyle spoke.
"No." With that one word of defiance, Foyle charged Rhodes, and in the attempt of both men to reclaim the gun from each other, the trigger was pulled. The bullet grazed Rhodes's shoulder, and he fled the basement room. Phryne launched herself at Foyle, moving almost fully on adrenaline, and they struggled for the gun. A shot was fired in the fight and Foyle fell back against the table as Jack, shouting Phryne's name, swung around the corner.
Foyle spoke through shock, his hand cupping at the wound in his abdomen. "But you... You came willingly!"
"I came willingly to find out what happened to my sister. And to rescue Jane and Jack. Not for you."
"I only tried to lead the way."
"You led the way to hell!" Phryne spat. Foyle reached up for the dagger, but Phryne, bracing herself against the table, snatched it out of his reach.
"Please!" Foyle begged.
"No! You're not headed for eternal life. You're going back to gaol so you can hang." Phryne felt herself beginning to slip out of consciousness as she turned, becoming aware of the others in the room. Jack moved toward her as he saw how unsteady she was. "Oh Jane," she whispered, seeing her sister, blue ribbons in her hair. "I'm so sorry."
She tried to step in their direction, but didn't get anywhere. She swayed as she felt the room tilt around her, Foyle's drink taking its toll.
"Phryne-" Jack murmured involuntarily, crossing quickly to her as she crumpled, the dagger falling from her hand, sweeping her up into his arms. He carried her out of the room and into the corridor, Jane following close behind. Her head fell back as she closed her eyes, unable to fight the effects of the drug any longer, succumbing to it in the knowledge that she was safe, in Jack's arms.