Chapter 10 #2
Thea blanched. ‘It’s a great priv —’
‘Don’t worry yourself.’ Princess Jasira sipped from her goblet. ‘If I had any choice in the matter, I’d be elsewhere as well.’
A servant placed a plate before Thea, the food upon it piled high. Thea murmured her thanks but the server was already gone.
‘I would ask you of your work for the guild, but judging from your earlier request, I’d guess it interests you little?’ Princess Jasira asked.
‘I’d happily speak of it with you, Your Highness.’
‘Not if you’re going to harp on with formalities all evening. Please, call me Jasi, the titles are tedious.’
Thea chewed the inside of her cheek, unable to quite believe she was addressing the Princess of Harenth. ‘Alright… Jasi.’
The princess seemed pleased. ‘So tell me of your work for the guild. What is it you do there?’
‘I work in the alchemy workshop mostly, Your — Jasi.’ Thea corrected herself. ‘Though I also transcribe texts from time to time, too.’
‘And you dislike such work?’
‘My sister is the true master of alchemy,’ Thea admitted, glancing down at the burns on her hands. ‘I specialised in the same at her insistence, though I suspect she only did so to keep a closer eye on me.’
‘Those scars are from your work?’ Princess Jasira asked, following Thea’s gaze.
‘Some are from work. Most are from my own carelessness.’
To Thea’s surprise, the princess laughed. It was a beautiful, light sound. ‘So your sister does not wish to be a shieldbearer as you do?’
Thea shook her head, sifting through the options of what she could possibly ask a princess without impropriety.
Princess Jasira saved her the effort. ‘What is it you alchemists do then?’
‘We make tinctures for the healers and potions for various uses; the more skilled carry out experiments and such.’
‘Fascinating,’ Jasira said.
‘You sound like my sister,’ Thea laughed.
Jasira offered a genuine smile. ‘I shall take that as a compliment then.’
‘You should, Highness — Jasi.’ Thea’s attention wandered back to the kings and queen, finding herself leaning into the magic that pulsed around them. ‘It’s incredible,’ she murmured, more to herself than to the princess.
But Princess Jasira heard her, her brows furrowed. ‘What is?’
‘Their magic,’ Thea replied in wonder.
Jasira gave her an odd look then.
‘My apologies, Highness,’ Thea bowed her head. ‘I’m unsure of the… etiquette when it comes to such things. Is it best not spoken of?’
The princess seemed to have masked her expression. ‘It’s quite alright. I… I suppose I’m used to it, I hardly notice it.’
‘Then, do you have magic yet? It’s something you are born with as a Fairmoore royal isn’t it?’
‘It is…’ Jasira said carefully. ‘Though I admit, my abilities are not at full strength yet. Father says they will come through.’
‘I’m sure he’s right,’ Thea replied. If anyone were to know about magic, it would be King Artos.
The crease between the princess’ brows deepened as she looked from Thea to the rulers of the midrealms. ‘So, you’re telling me you can feel —’
‘A toast!’ someone shouted. ‘To the late Queen Maelyn, may she rest well with Enovius!’
The princess stiffened in her seat and Thea felt a pang of sympathy for her.
She knew the feast was in celebration of the king’s mourning period ending, and she couldn’t recall how long ago the Queen of Harenth had passed, but queen or no, she had been Princess Jasira’s mother.
She doubted very much that the pain ceased because a feast dictated so.
‘To the late queen!’ the hall echoed.
The princess flinched.
Without thinking, Thea leaned closer to her, forgetting royal etiquette. ‘I’m sorry about your mother,’ she whispered.
Princess Jasira’s gaze was on the king, who was sniffing his wine. ‘Thank you,’ she replied.
Wine sloshed over King Artos’ goblet as he swirled the drink within, inhaling the aroma appreciatively. ‘I do say, this vintage has a hint of lilac to it… Wouldn’t you agree, King Elkan?’
Thea watched the exchange, her own nose tickling with another scent lingering in the air… Was it ash she could smell? It was not the ash of a hearth fire, but something far subtler, with a tinge of sweetness to it…
King Elkan seemed surprised to be called upon, but dutifully sniffed his own goblet. ‘I must have an underdeveloped nose for these things, Artos. It smells like wine to me.’
King Artos laughed. ‘Yes, yes, of course. But there are subtleties to each barrel.’ he sniffed again. ‘Yes, I do detect lilac…’
Thea’s skin prickled and she sat up a little straighter in her seat, searching for her Warsword escort. He was where she had left him, on the outskirts of the hall, watching everything with that discerning scowl of his.
Someone called out from further down the table, snatching her attention back. ‘Marise the merchant says that often a wine can take on the smells of whatever is planted around it. Your Majesty must have a very keen nose indeed.’
Something wasn’t right. Thea knew lilacs weren’t native to Harenth. Of course, the wine could have come from anywhere but… The added hint of strange ash in the air made her uneasy. She scanned the table, for what she didn’t know.
Until she saw it.
Traces of a fine blue powder by the king’s personal decanter.
King Artos at last raised his goblet to his lips —
‘Stop!’ Without thinking, Thea launched her knife.
It speared towards the king.
Shouts rang out down the table and then the wider hall.
Thea’s knife hit King Artos’ goblet and it fell, crashing to the floor, crimson wine spilling across the marble like blood.
Guards were on her in an instant, hauling her from her seat, roughly wrenching her arms behind her back.
‘It was poison!’ she shouted, kicking against the guards. ‘It would have killed him.’
The king was on his feet, his face flushed as he looked from his wine soaked silk sleeve to Thea, shocked.
‘Your Majesty, please,’ she implored. ‘It was poison.’
The guards started to haul her away, their grips bruising.
Thea’s heart hammered. Was she to be executed then and there? No, that was impossible, given the stone that rested against her heaving breast.
Audra’s words echoed in her mind then. ‘You will come to learn that most things to be feared exist in life, not in death…’
Bile rose in Thea’s throat. She wouldn’t die.
Not until she was twenty-seven, but… There were worse fates than death.
Years of torture. Imprisonment… She’d hurled a knife at the king for gods’ sake.
They’d think she was an assassin . But there hadn’t been time – she’d used whatever she had to save him.
The guards were brutal, yanking her arms back so hard they nearly tore from their sockets —
‘Wait,’ the king commanded.
The guards froze in place, but did not loosen their hold on her.
The king motioned to a wiry man who had been lingering near the curtains behind him.
‘Did you try the wine?’ the king asked, his voice deadly soft.
The king’s cupbearer , Thea realised with a start. She hadn’t even considered that there would be someone to test the king’s food and drink. She’d made a mistake.
‘Yes, of course, Your Majesty.’
‘When?’ the king asked.
‘When the wine was served, Your Grace.’
Thea’s heart sank. The fate that awaited her now was not one that had been carved in stone, but one borne of her rash actions, her recklessness.
‘Try it again.’ The king’s voice was hard.
‘Sire?’ The cupbearer blinked, wide-eyed at the monarch.
‘Try it again.’
Thea tensed, watching the cupbearer’s trembling hands reach for the decanter.
‘Use my goblet,’ King Artos instructed.
Face paling, the cupbearer bent down to retrieve it from the floor. With all eyes upon him, he poured the rich, garnet liquid into the goblet, his lips moving in prayer as he did. He looked to the king a final time.
King Artos merely waited.
The cupbearer took a deep breath and closed his eyes, raising the goblet to his lips. He drank deeply, as was required.
The entire hall was transfixed, Thea almost forgotten amidst the theatrics, though her arms throbbed from where the guards gripped her.
The cupbearer lowered the goblet, his shoulders sagging with relief.
A silent cry caught in Thea’s throat, her heart seizing as she realised that she’d made a harrowing mistake, she’d condemned herself —
The cupbearer spluttered, his brow furrowing in confusion as he clapped a hand over his mouth, embarrassed.
Thea didn’t dare move.
‘I apologise, my king —’ He coughed again, a ragged rasping sound before he swayed on his feet, his eyes red-rimmed.
The cupbearer staggered, clenching the table linens in his fists as he choked, spittle foaming at the swollen corners of his mouth.
He vomited blood, collapsing face-first onto the king’s table.
More guards rushed forward, surrounding the king, while others hauled the cupbearer back to examine him, recoiling at what they found.
His parted lips were blue.
And he was dead.