Chapter Fourteen #5
William frowned. Hadn’t the plan been for Silenia and her children to live in Silverlight Castle like Ailenor?
Perhaps not—William had never asked. Now that he thought about it, he hadn’t seen much of Silenia outside official functions.
She hadn’t joined many of the private family get-togethers.
Did she not want to? Or was Iver not inviting her?
Before William could ask, Charlotte’s second eldest, Meredith, ran over, showing him the hand-illustrated book she’d received.
“Look, Uncle William!” she said excitedly, pointing out the picture of a castle on the first page. “It looks like Silverlight! Will you read with me?”
She climbed onto an empty chair next to him, looking up at him with big eyes.
William petted her short curls. “Of course I will.” He exchanged smiles with Iver, who moved to Meredith’s other side, and together, they read the story.
In the afternoon, the servants, following an old midwinter tradition, cut an enormous tree in the forest. They carried the log into the inner courtyard, where they cut it into chunks.
The pieces would be burned in the different fireplaces around the castle to bless it for the new year and to bring good fortune.
When the log was cut and the fires blazing, everyone gathered in the great hall for the feast. The light of the candles on chandeliers and midwinter trees glistened off the marble floors.
Mistletoe hung from every arch. To mark this longest night of the year, food and warmth were shared freely, and the servants sat at the table side by side with nobility and high fae, the staff taking turns serving so that everyone could feast with the kings.
The first course consisted of the fae’s traditional midwinter loaf, a stark white bread made with snow instead of water and topped with fresh blueberries.
William would’ve thought that it didn’t matter whether one used water or snow since the latter would melt either way while baking, but Iver was adamant there was a difference.
“It’s fluffier this way,” Iver explained. “The snow creates air pockets in the dough and gives it its texture.” He point his knife at the holes in William’s slice.
“Right… And what’s with all the blueberries? You put them in everything.”
“Blueberries are one of the few fruits that grow in our realm. They’re different from the ones in the human world. They’re sweeter, and they withstand colder temperatures.”
William cut off a corner of the bread and brought it to his mouth. It was terribly bland. Swallowing, he said, “It tastes like nothing.”
Iver chuckled. “You need to add this.” He picked up the silver sauciere and drizzled a crimson, pulpy sauce onto William’s slice, a fruity smell filling the air.
“What’s that?”
“Lingonberry sauce. Don’t look at it like it’s poisonous.” Iver poured a generous amount onto his own plate. He cut off a bit of the soft bread, mopped up the sauce with it and popped it into his mouth, lips curving in delight.
William wasn’t sold on the dish, but he tried it again with sauce. Much better! The lingonberries added a wonderfully sweet and tart flavor.
Iver threw him a sidelong glance and, unable to hide his smile, said, “I knew you’d like it.”
“Oh, be quiet.”
Iver laughed.
“What?” William asked.
“Nothing. You’re just… easy to rile up. You’ll be fun in bed later, I can tell.”
Checking no one had heard that, William’s gaze darted between Charlotte and Ailenor.
They were deep in conversation, paying them no mind.
These two seemed to have an endless list of things to talk about, always chatting when they were within ten feet of each other.
Silenia, her children gone, sat down from Ailenor, engaged in conversation with the high fae next to her.
“Oh yes?” William said, turning his whole body toward Iver.
Iver came close, his face mere inches from William’s. “Yes.” And with that, he leaned back, pretending to be unaffected. A faint pink graced his cheeks.
Two more courses were served, warm spinach salad topped with cheese, mushrooms and egg, followed by roast goose accompanied by red cabbage and potato dumplings.
Finally, the cup-bearers brought dessert—plates of delicate cream puffs sprinkled with golden faerie dust and tall glasses filled with a thick, pale-yellow liquid. Iver’s eyes lit up at the sight of dessert.
He took his glass and rose, the hall getting to their feet with him.
“People of Vale, fae of the Winter Court, I am delighted to be celebrating midwinter with you. Silverlight Castle has become my home in the short time I’ve been here, owing to my wonderful husband.
” The corners of his eyes crinkled as he smiled at William.
“William has sent our forces south to hold the front against the orcs. He is securing Vale’s bright future.
” Iver lifted his glass. “Here’s to the king of Vale. ”
“The king,” the guests said and raised their glasses.
William hadn’t expected such kind words; they filled his heart with unfamiliar warmth. When Iver sat back down, William squeezed his hand, emotion brimming. “I appreciate your kindness. You’re a gift.”
“It was nothing but the truth.” Iver stroked his thumb over the wedding mark at the back of William’s hand.
They had come a long way since their tense meeting in Winterbourne.
Iver nodded toward the dessert. “You should try the cream puff. I’ve given the cook my recipes, and she’s been doing a good job. ”
Smiling, William lifted the top off his pastry, spread cream on it and took a bite. He moaned as its sweetness filled his mouth.
Behind him, someone coughed. William turned but saw only the cup-bearers, who stood stoically by the side table piled with empty plates and glasses from which they’d tested William and Iver’s food.
William took another bite of his pastry. “This is amazing.”
“I’m glad you like it.”
“I love faerie treats. Especially the ones you make.”
Iver’s gaze was full of warmth. “Then I’ll ensure you always have some.”
“Don’t make too many promises.”
“I’m finding that I want to promise you things.” Iver’s expression pinched, and he coughed.
A dull thud, flesh impacting on stone, startled William. He snapped around, finding the fae cup-bearer collapsed on the floor, pink froth at his mouth. Cold dread crept into William’s bones. Iver coughed again. A murmur went through the hall.
“I’ll get the healer,” Silenia said and rose to her feet.
Iver’s eyes widened.
“Iver?” William asked.
A pained, hoarse sound tore out of him. Blood trickled from his mouth. The hall erupted in uproar.
Ailenor rushed to his side. “Iver?” Her voice was shrill.
Iver made a choked noise, trying to speak. He clutched his stomach and doubled over in his chair. Panic seized William. He wrapped his arms around Iver to prop him up. His scent of snow and forest mixed with the metallic smell of blood.
“What’s wrong?” Ailenor asked.
William knew. His father had warned him about this possibility throughout his childhood. He’d made William study the symptoms. It was why they used cup-bearers. How had this gotten past them?
“Poison!” William shouted. “The king’s been poisoned!”
Iver hacked, blood pouring from his mouth. He rasped something unintelligible.
“Don’t talk. Spit out whatever is left in your mouth.” William cleared the cream puff off his plate and held the porcelain under Iver’s chin. “Spit it out!”
Iver spat a slew of blood. William winced in sympathy. A fae ran toward them, the coiling pin at her chest identifying her as a healer. Beside her was the nurse, an elderly woman who had served William’s family for decades.
Charlotte was shouting at the guards. “Clear the hall. Confine everyone in the vestibule. Nobody is to leave the castle.”
The captain of the guard and her women rushed to herd the dinner guests out of the hall.
Iver rasped, “Si… nia… Sile… ia. Poi… son…”
Ailenor shook her head. “Silenia wouldn’t do that. I sat between you and her all evening. She couldn’t have. She wouldn’t.”
But a king knew his enemies, and something about Silenia had been off from the start. She had warned William off marrying Iver when he’d stumbled across her in the hall of ancestors. Had he stumbled across her? Or had she planted herself in his way, trying to catch him alone?
He’d seen her speak with Beatrice. Wait… Had Beatrice gotten into Silverlight through Silenia? And if Silenia had arranged that, had she also hidden the dagger in his bedchamber? As Iver’s sister, she moved through the castle freely, no questions asked.
If Silenia was after the throne, she’d have to get rid of Iver before he had an heir.
That was why she hadn’t wanted them to get married, why she’d thrown Beatrice his way.
And now she’d supposedly run off to get the healer.
A healer who’d sat near the far end of the table—in the opposite direction she’d run.
She wasn’t getting the healer. She was fleeing the scene.
“Charlotte!” William barked. She whipped around to him.
“At the back of the cabinet in my bedchamber is an iron dagger.” Ailenor sucked in air.
“Grab it. Take the guards and go after Silenia. Capture her alive if you can, dead if you can’t, and put her in the dungeon. She must not leave Silverlight.”
Charlotte gave a sharp nod and rushed off.
“Silenia wouldn’t hurt Iver!” Ailenor exclaimed. “She’s our sister. She’d—”
William pushed her arguments aside with an angry gesture. They had no time for this.