Chapter 31 Audryn #2
Cutlery clanked as I picked up the glass in front of me and drew in a sip.
I focused on my drink for several moments before reluctantly shifting to my plate.
Carefully, I picked up only a small amount of the radish salad, being sure it was just enough to cover the silver tines of the fork.
If I stretched out the portion and continued to look busy, it wouldn’t be too obvious that I wasn’t touching anything else.
“I should have told you to wait,” Leanna said softly. “Traditionally, you wait for the host to give the opening toast, and others can follow—but only after the host.”
Before I could reply, Maris huffed and struck with her words. “It’s no wonder Audryn doesn’t have any manners, she’s a Clair.”
“Leave!” Ryder scowled, not waiting a moment for her dig to land.
But she remained seated as all eyes at the table darted between Ryder and Maris. Mine attempted to stay focused on my plate as a full wave of nausea crashed into me. Getting through dinner proved to be one of the most arduous tasks I’d faced; one that might send me home.
I couldn’t recall when it had happened, but my desire to return home had disappeared during my stay. In fact, even my desire to kill the king and get the name of my brother’s executioner had subsided. Winning Ryder had become my main priority—my only priority.
“Why?” Maris’s voice was less than a whisper, but with the silent table we all heard her words.
“I said leave.” Ryder’s voice was gravely while his eyes remained frozen on the woman. “Now, or I will remove you myself!” His hands had turned into clenched balls, his thrumming on the table a distant tic.
“Go to your room, and I’ll have your dinner sent up to you,” Leanna said, as she patted the top of Maris's hand.
The brown-eyed woman stood and lifted her chin as tears streamed down her face. By the grace of the Divine, she kept her head held high as she walked out of the dining hall—something I couldn’t have done.
Ryder turned his attention to me, which was the absolute last thing I needed considering my stomach was a bubbling mess.
Despite only eating a few bites, my stomach had bloated with a heavy fullness.
Almost fifteen minutes after our food was served, I’d had half the radish salad, but hadn’t touched anything else.
Plates and cutlery clicked around the table, but the conversations had stalled; the silence became deafening.
“You aren’t eating.” Ryder narrowed his sights on me. I’d become nothing more than a bag full of sand for him to verbally punch, and was within his reach for a knockout blow.
“I had a late lunch.” Another rumble moved across my belly as I sipped my wine.
“I can hear your hunger, don’t lie.” Ryder pushed and leaned in. “No. More. Lies.”
For a moment I considered keeping up the ruse, but my stomach would betray me with another grumble. I shook my head and lowered my voice. “I don’t eat fish, remember? No fish or fishlike things.” Attempting to lighten the mood, I offered an airy chuckle for good measure.
Leanna set her fork down on her plate, her body going still. Another wave of nausea rolled over me, and beads of sweat trickled down my back. The pressure of performing well at the dinner had gotten to me more than I’d realized.
“My kitchen staff has created a delicious meal.” Ryder placed a haughty hand on my thigh once more and bore down. “You will not act like a petulant child.”
“I don’t feel well,” I admitted and splayed a hand across my stomach. I was cramping, and something was terribly wrong. Even with the worst of nerves, I’d never felt so ill.
A shiny silver fork darted in front of me, and my fish disappeared from my plate. My eyes shot up to see the caviar trickling off the top as Grave moved the fish to his plate and began cutting into it.
“I don’t need your help.” I reached across and stabbed my fork into the filet.
Quickly, I brought it back to my plate, the top of the fillet was practically bare.
The caviar sat scattered in the center of the table.
He went to stab the fish once more, but I fended him off using my fork as a weapon.
Grave jerked his hand back, flicked his own shiny armament in the air, and smirked at my attempted forking.
A look of indignation marked Ryder’s face; he might’ve contemplated dragging me out by my hair at that very moment.
I cut into the sea beast and took a bite while fighting back a quivering stomach.
The taste was foul, and I bit back heaves with each chew.
Streaks of sweat dripped from my brow and streamed down the sides of my heated face.
Beads of perspiration turned into rivers trailing down to my ass as my stomach grumbled once more.
The amusement fell from Grave’s face, replaced by concern. “Are you okay?” Amalee placed a hand on his shoulder, but he shrugged it away. “You’re unwell.”
“She’s fine,” Ryder snarled. “I will ask if she is okay.”
“Then ask!” Grave snapped. “She doesn’t appear well, and you’ve yet to notice! Maybe if you weren’t so busy with a bottle, you’d see what’s in front of you.”
“Please don’t speak as if I’m not sitting right here.
” I scowled at the king and then turned to Ryder.
“Something’s wrong—I’m seriously ill.” Half a breath later, the fish swam up from the sea in my belly and back into my mouth.
Covering my mouth with a hand, I forced it down with a thick, disgusting swallow.
Tasting it a second time was worse than the first—as if that were at all possible.
“Are you okay?” Leanna asked.
“I said she’s fine!” Ryder snapped.
Grave scoffed and rolled his eyes. “Clearly.”
The world tilted as my stomach contracted, and I partially stood. “Ryder, I—”
“Prince Sutton,” he reprimanded. “You will not leave your seat.”
Steadying myself with one hand, I covered my mouth with the other as the food threatened a reappearance.
Ryder placed a firm hand around my steadying arm, keeping me in place and half leaned over the table.
My stomach compressed, helping the fish jump upstream into my mouth again, but I couldn’t force it back down.
My eyes darted as my stomach began violently pulsing, and before I could do anything else, the contents of my belly and mouth retched onto the table in front of me. Ryder retreated immediately as Leanna did the same.
“Fucking gross,” Hunt’s familiar voice provided commentary behind me.
Red liquid mixed with the contents of my stomach pushed up and out, and though I tried to keep it contained in my mouth, it burst through my fingers in crimson streams on repeat.
Grave scrambled for a bowl of grapes and emptied it onto the table.
“What are you doing?” Ryder yelled at the king, who was the only one still standing near the vacated area.
He moved to my side, gave me the empty bowl, and I buried my head into it just in time to capture a mouthful of vomit. One violent episode after another, there was no relief between the swells of retching.
“Get a healer here!” Ryder shouted somewhere to my right.
Dropping to my knees, tears poured from my eyes and into the bowl of liquid and minced food as I continued to spew.
Grave bent down at my side as the vomit covered not only his boots but the bottom of his pants.
I threw my hand out attempting to create distance, but he ignored the gesture, bringing a cloth napkin to my wet brow.
Leanna began directing people into the corridor—she always knew the right thing to do, even in the face of disaster. Soon after, Mirael ran through the doors, still tying her apron around her waist.
“Get back,” she ordered Grave, and he immediately complied, putting his hands into the air. “I’m going to put my hand on you, Audryn, my magic will–”
“Yes!” My throat burned. “Do what you must, just make it stop!”
The rush of magic into my body was dizzying, or maybe it was a side effect from the vomiting. My body trembled as the heaving continued, and I nearly collapsed. The cold floor would be a sweet reprieve if I could just lay on it for only a moment.
Mirael’s magic moved through me, but it wasn’t the welcoming buzz I remembered. It was frantic and only furthered my unending nausea. Whatever was inside me pushed back against the magic, and I knew her attempt was of no use.
“Get her a bucket or something larger,” Grave yelled to Fisher. I was surprised to see how quickly the guard obeyed a king other than his own.
“You’ll be okay,” Mirael spoke near my head. “We’re going to get you to your room.” She turned and faced the group of horrified people watching the scene play out. “Who can carry her back, she—”
“I will,” Grave interrupted and stepped forward.
“You’ll do no such thing!” Ryder snapped.
Another wave of nausea hit, and my belly constricted, forcing another mouthful of liquid into the container.
“I’ll take her.” With a bucket in hand, Fisher moved to my side.
Before I could protest, the guard hauled me and my flurry of crinoline skirts up into his arms. He began walking, letting the bucket dangle at my side. I curled into him as the nausea waned, allowing me only a moment of peace.
“Put me down, put me down,” I begged, before sliding out of his arms and dropping to the floor of the corridor.
Voices echoed against the walls as I threw myself around the bucket to retch once more.
After the heaves subsided, I was back in Fisher’s arms and we were moving.
We repeated the process a dozen times before we finally made it to my room.
“Unlace her gown,” Mirael ordered as she moved to gather a wet cloth from the bathing room.
Without hesitation, Fisher’s hands were moving to the laces and pulling them from the criss-cross pattern across my back.
Mirael returned and attempted to quell the rippling nausea with her magic, but it was futile.
I yanked the wine-stained gown down from my sweat-soaked body.
The material was less flowy and instead damp and heavy.
Fisher pulled the dress out from under me and promptly exited without needing a request to do so.
I crawled to the bathing room in nothing but my panties and brassiere as the heaving continued. The muscles in my stomach ached and burned in agony. By the time I’d made it to the toilet, little more than saliva was ejecting from my mouth, and I’d transitioned to dry heaves.
“Am I going to die?” I asked the healer, “because it feels like dying would be easier than this.” Hopefully my mother’s experience was nothing like the pain I was being hit with. At least Kamden’s execution was quick, though the mental anguish leading up to it must’ve been miserable.
“You’re not dying. Give it another thirty minutes, things will ease,” Mirael said as she wiped a damp cloth on my neck and upper back.
“What’s wrong with me? I don’t understand what happened.” My question hung in the air for so long that I wasn’t sure she had heard.
“I’ll tell you, but you cannot speak of it to anyone. If you do, I’ll deny it,” Mirael warned.
Another wave of nausea rolled through me, and I sank my head down into the toilet, letting my body convulse. “For all that’s Divine, just tell me.”
The healer leaned in, her body wafting of herbs and spices. “If you breathe a word, it will cost someone’s life.”
She waited several more minutes as my stomach convulsed; I was sure it would haul itself out of me if the illness continued much longer. “It’s the damned fish, isn’t it?” My words were choked.
“No”—she paused—“you were poisoned.”
“What the fuck?” I breathed through another wave of nausea.
“But as far as everyone else is concerned, you felt ill all day, and it finally caught up with you.” She leaned in so close her breath blew across my ear, causing a shiver.
“Someone gave you a vomit-inducing solution. And based on the time that’s passed, I would say you’d consumed it nearly an hour ago.
Which means it was put in your food or drink at the start.
But I’ll not have Draven or his staff blamed for the—”
“Ipecac,” I muttered through the next spasm, recalling the little vial Jaspar had given me to weaken King Sutton. I’d last seen the amber liquid in my bag, but I hadn’t verified its location in quite some time.
“Yes,” she said hesitantly. “I knew it the moment my magic hit your belly. We use it in patients who’ve been given foods they cannot have, such as your friend with the citrus.”
Not only had Allura dealt with the consequences of the tea, but she’d had to endure the torture I was living through too.
The silver-haired woman narrowed her eyes at me. “How did you know it was ipecac?”