ESSA
“I’m sorry, Your Majesty! I told him you were in the bath,” she said.
I didn’t move. The bubbles in the bath covered my nakedness—and I was beyond caring about modesty, anyway.
I wasn’t sure how long I’d been soaking in that hot water. I’d been there, staring at the ceiling, for what could have been days, letting thoughts flit in and out of my mind like fireflies.
Charlie.
The nobles.
The poison inside me.
Charlie… alive. Alive!
Gods, and I’d sent him away…
But how could I face him in that moment? How could I even process what was happening?
That he existed.
That I’d betrayed him with a hundred men.
That even as he lived, I was perhaps dying, the poison inside me turning all reason into blurry chaos…
I’d lashed out at him. Kicked him out.
Now, he was gone.
I wanted to care about myself, whether I would live or die.
I wanted to care about Auntie, who’d been taken to her chamber, poisoned, and terribly ill.
I wanted to care about what was happening in the palace—about what horrible revenge the nobles would hatch once they knew what I’d done to their patriarchs.
But the truth was, I had zero feelings about any of those things.
My thoughts kept returning to Charlie. How I loved him.
How, after what he’d walked in on, could he ever love me again?
“What in all the hells did you do?” Ollie demanded, still groping his way forward with a hand over his eyes. In another life, I would have laughed at the sight of him.
With a sigh, I started to rise from the bath, dragging a towel off a nearby chair and wrapping it around myself. Dizziness made me pause, a bout of vertigo so powerful it nearly made me vomit. But it passed after a moment, and I rose on unsteady legs.
I hissed through my teeth as the cool air hit the place between my thighs—the friction and the poison combined to form a wicked stinging sensation.
Deeper, in my belly, I could feel the poison radiating, spreading through me like the roots of some rotten tree.
And yet, the bath had helped. My head still throbbed, my body still ached as if with a fever.
I felt weak and tired. But I no longer felt like death was imminent.
“You can uncover your eyes, Ollie,” I said, my voice low and raw from screaming at Charlie.
Charlie… Oh, Gods…
Ollie took his hand away from his face and fixed me with a wild glare.
“What did you do, Essa?” he repeated.
“What do you mean, what did I do?” I asked coyly.
He tilted his head back, aghast at my denial. “Essa. Don’t play dumb with me. The nobles! The bloody nobles!”
“What about them?” I asked, then held my breath.
Were they slain? Had my plan worked? Or were they merely nursing sore cocks and sharpening their knives, preparing to come and extract their revenge?
Ollie snatched the dress Maryn had prepared for me from its rack and hurled it at me.
“Come and see for yourself,” he said.
I dressed, strapped on my sword, took Ollie’s arm for support, and let him lead down the corridor and toward the hall where the nobles had gathered for the bydrune.
I had no idea what I was walking into. It might be an ambush.
An assassination. Or a prison cell. Even so, I let Ollie lead me, too exhausted to resist, as we followed the corridor back toward the bydrune chambers.
But what struck me, before we even entered the great hall, was the hush.
It was different from the quiet of an empty space.
This silence was active, the quiet of a held breath, the quiet of wind through cemetery trees.
As we rounded the corner and stepped into the hall, I saw what that terrible silence contained, and all the air left my lungs.
I walked forward slowly, and Ollie stepped aside, his eyes fixed upon me in judgment, as I took in the scene. All around me, men were laid out in orderly rows, their faces pallid, still masks. Their limbs, unmoving. Their chests, perfectly still.
Dead.
All of them, dead.
Fuck. I’d done it.
My eyes burned, but it was only the fever of the poison. Not an impulse to cry. Not now. Not for them.
An aisle had been left in the middle of the bodies, and I walked down it slowly, filled by turns with the wonder, awe, and horror at what I’d done.
I wasn’t alone. Several Gray Brothers, a pair of servants, and a half dozen Lacunae stood along the walls, watching me, but none of them made any move to intercept me.
I was nearing the far end of the room when a ragged breath drew my attention.
Lying propped up against the wall, I saw Lord Natath’s handsome son—the one who’d given me pleasure in spite of myself.
He was still alive, though from the looks of him, perhaps not for long.
His godly face was so pale that it might have been carved of alabaster. His lips were blue. His breathing was labored, so that I could barely hear the words he muttered as he stared up at me with glassy eyes.
“What’s that?” I asked him.
He repeated it, but still I couldn’t hear. I came closer and knelt down.
“What?” I asked.
He grabbed my wrist, holding me with surprising strength, and pulled me close to his dry, pale lips.
“P-poison Queen,” he hissed, the words boiling with hatred.
I ripped my arm out of his grasp, and stood, backing away in revulsion. His eyes fluttered shut then, his head lolling to one side, as if hurling that insult had taken the last of his strength.
I heard footsteps behind me and wheeled to find Kortoi entering, along with a handful of mages and Lacunae. As he swished toward us, Ollie stepped in front of me protectively and drew his sword.
The approaching men stopped. The Prelate’s hands went to his hips as he eyed us with the faintest of smiles.
“Well. I must remember never to underestimate Queen Essaphine,” he said, glancing around the room.
I drew my sword as well, though I hardly had the strength to hold it. “I’ve slain a hundred enemies today,” I said. “Will you force me to slay you next?”
The Prelate laughed. “Indeed, no. I couldn’t be more pleased with this turn of events.”
I frowned, confused. “The nobles were your allies.”
Kortoi shrugged. “And now they’re not. Power is like pie, Your Royal Highness. The fewer people there are to share it with, the more is left for the rest of us.”
I lowered my sword, feeling too weak to hold it on guard any longer.
“I want Othura released. Now.”
The Prelate pursed his lips. “We had thought to release her tomorrow in time for the coronation. But why not a day early? We’ll call it a bydrune present.” He glanced to one of his Brothers. “Unlock the Mad Dragon cell at once.”
“I’ll accept your gift,” I said. “And then, I’ll accept your exile.”
Kortoi tsked, shaking his head. “I’m afraid I will have to counsel you against that, Your Highness.
You see, the Sylph Lord’s fleet arrives tomorrow.
I have been his primary diplomatic contact leading up to this meeting.
And I might remind you, we need his help to defeat the Admites, whose invading force will also be arriving soon.
If the Sylph Lord shows up and finds you here all alone, with no noble knights, no Lacunae, no Gray Brotherhood mages, and no court—essentially all by yourself—he might very well see our kingdom as a ghost ship with no one at the helm.
He may decide not to help us. Worse, he may decide to simply take Maethalia for himself.
When the Sylph Lord arrives, you’ll need to look strong, Your Majesty.
You’ll want me by your side. Trust me on this. ”
I glanced to Ollie, who gave me a subtle shrug, as if to say, he’s right.
I groaned, sheathing my sword. I was feeling worse again. I had no energy to argue.
“Fine,” I said. “You can stay. We’ll discuss terms later.”
Kortoi bowed so low, it bordered on mockery. “Very wise, Your Majesty, very wise. Then with your permission, the Brothers and I shall continue with preparations for your coronation.”
“Fine,” I nodded and waved him off, and the dark priest departed, his entourage in tow.
When they were gone, I reached for Ollie—and nearly fell into his arms.
“Essa? You alright?” he asked.
“Just get me back to my chambers,” I said. “I need to lie down.”
Ollie put his arm around me and I leaned on him heavily as we made our way back through the morgue I’d made. We were almost out of the room when I heard young Lord Natath’s weak voice call after me.
“Poison Queen! You forgot me. Essaphine! You left one alive! You evil whore! You witch! You—”
I thought of going back. Of drawing my dagger and slitting his throat. Silencing him. Finishing him. But I was too sick, too tired. And so, I pushed through the door and left him behind, still calling my name.