Chapter 10
I struggled to keep a calm facade as I scoured the library for anything that might inconspicuously teach me what I needed to know.
Lord Mouse, the Master of the Royal Collection, kept an account of all loaned books, so bringing him a copy of The Herbalist’s Guide to Medicinal Misfortunes would make me a prime suspect.
Anything too vague, on the other hand, might not have enough specific information on poison.
I recalled from my parents’ lessons that, often, the difference between potion and poison lied in dosage.
Even salt could kill a man in excess. I also knew that some toxic substances could cause any number of possible symptoms before death, which would make the poisoning far too obvious.
What I needed was not a spectacle, but a subtle quieting.
Winnie didn’t appear to sense anything unusual from me, which was just as well; I might have shared my own secrets with her, but the prince’s were another matter.
To reveal his intentions for the ill-fated Percy could only spell trouble.
Winnie would never assist in such an effort.
If she knew, surely she would try and dissuade me.
More than likely, she would succeed. As it was, I could hardly believe I was considering the prospect of murder.
Nearby, the viscount yawned. The poor fellow looked as though he might fall asleep at any moment, his head given to occasional nods before snapping back to attention.
As I turned to enter another aisle of reference material, I saw Duke Minnick at one of the desks, a set of spectacles balanced unevenly on the bridge of his nose. He scrawled something onto parchment with his right hand while flipping the page of a tome with his left.
Recalling his educated position, it occurred to me that he might know the sort of book I needed.
I came to him and wrote a message on my wax tablet, keeping it small and concise to conserve room.
As a man of scholarly focus, it took a while for the duke to even notice my presence.
When he did, he lurched back in alarm, placing his hand meekly over his heart and shutting the book like I’d caught him in some indecent act.
“Gods—apologies, my lady,” he quickly amended, removing the spectacles and rubbing his eyes. “I’ve been in my pages for far too long.”
I bowed to him, offering the tablet. “How do you fare, Your Grace?” it read.
He gave a recovering smile. “I suppose you’re accustomed to sneaking up on people, quiet as you are.” I was.
He stretched his back over the wooden chair, an audible pop trailing down his spine, and he stood. “I am quite well. What brings you to the library today? I’ve heard you are a remarkably avid reader, despite your commoner history.”
All right, I’d have to overlook that. I wrote again. “I’ve seen many unfamiliar plants around the castle grounds. I need a book on botanical reference, preferably something that includes foreign flora.”
Duke Minnick’s eyes widened slightly. He searched the bookshelves, stopping far down the aisle with his gaze locked upon a higher row. His hand trembled as he brought the magnificent thing down, blowing off a coat of dust with a puff.
He brought it to me. “Here you are: A Grand Compendium of the World’s Flora and their Properties. The author is quite the traveled gentleman… I don’t believe there is a plant in the world he doesn’t cover in this guide.”
On that I could agree, if only for the sheer size of the reference. I bowed in thanks, then went to Lord Mouse and checked out the compendium. Winnie looked over my shoulder, joined by an equally eager viscount, both clearly relieved to be leaving at last.
“I believe you managed to select the dullest tome in the library,” Winnie commented, smacking a hand on the book to exaggerate its density. The royal librarian gave her an exasperated grimace.
“I once had to read the collective Treatises on Strategy, and they were half the size of this,” Lord Quinn joined in with equal impression. He picked it up. “Allow me to carry it for you, my lady.”
I nodded, and the three of us went back to my room. The viscount stopped at the door and dropped the tome into my hands, the weight of it causing me to double over before I restored myself. Winnie snarled, but Lord Quinn shrugged that off with a grin and departed.
“My dear friend, you should know that I intend to get started on my reading straightaway,” I said as soon as Winnie shut the door behind us. “If you’ve anything else to do…”
“Oh?” Winnie’s eyes widened. “Then I think I shall stay here and relax in the quiet a while longer, if I may.”
“All right, then,” I challenged, sitting in the chaise and flipping the book to its first page.
Compiled and Annotated by Magister Hieronymus Biddlecombe Under the Patronage of His Royal Majesty King Elias IV, the subtitle read.
That alone made my eyes bulge. I pressed on, grinding my way through the forward until I reached the first of many entries, sorted by taxonomic name.
The magister had taken care to describe each plant by habitat, appearance, properties, medicinal uses, and then historic notes.
From the first entry on abrus precatorius, I could tell that the book would provide no specific recipes for anything dangerous.
It did, however, offer a list of symptoms, accompanying the warnings with a colored sketch of each plant.
For what he lacked in ability to write succinctly, the man was a master of artistic rendering.
I read on, licking my finger to turn the page. Uneasy noises from Winnie made for an occasional distraction; she quickly ran out of chores to perform, resorting to picking at her nails or smelling every single vial of bath oil. Eventually she gave up, making her way to the door.
“You know, I’ve just remembered that I do have somewhere to be,” she announced with a wry look. “You’ll be all right on your own? Lord Navarro remains close by.”
I smirked and nodded, and off my friend went, leaving me to the ponderous work of finding a way to murder Percy Montfort.
I went to the assortment of jars left behind by Father, examining the contents and comparing them to their entries in the text.
I searched for anything that might make the man’s death appear natural, all the while remaining under the constraints of what I currently possessed in my simples.
At long last, I came across an entry for white hellebore. The properties were miserable, but familiar; thinking back to my mother’s letter, I recalled that Finn’s Hollow and the villages surrounding the Arbordeens were currently facing dysentery.
Yes, that would create an effective alibi. I could make careful mention of the village illnesses to varying women, just enough to plant a seed. No one would think to look my way. No one but Nicolas, Quinn, and Angharad would have any reason to suspect me.
I examined the dried petals in their vial. My mouth went dry, and my heart throbbed like I had somehow come into contact with one of the toxins; as my breathing shortened, I raked my fingers into my hair and dropped both tome and vial to the rug.
I couldn’t do this.
I’d never even spoken a word to Percy, not that I could; for all I knew, all could be remedied if he only got to know me as a person.
Of course, he hadn’t extended me the same courtesy. He didn’t know me beyond occasional glances over supper. He tried to have me taken, and when that failed, he went on as though nothing had happened.
My heart gradually steadied. Removing Percy from the picture—murdering him, I amended—might prevent future attempts on not only my own life, but the lives of other members of the royal family.
Bit by bit, I came to terms with the justice of it, but such rationalization did little to quell the tears when they came.
Castle Altaigne had corrupted me in mere weeks. The face in the mirror, painted and absurd beneath its courtly mask, belonged to a stranger.
When Winnie returned to help me prepare for supper, I’d already composed myself.
The botanical compendium was put away on the table, and I’d freshly painted a new coat of white on my cheeks to conceal any evidence of my distress.
Then I revealed to her a collection of sachets that were almost identical to one another, keeping the truth buried deep within my heart.
The court’s suppertime conversation ebbed and flowed around me. My collection of sachets was tucked into an ornamental box, nestled away in my lap and waiting for the right moment.
I couldn’t help but peek over at Percy to give him one last attempted judge of character.
The man sat brooding, his short blond hair kept long enough in the front to partially obscure a leering set of olive-green eyes.
He only looked my way once, our gaze just barely meeting before he sneered and turned away with palpable contempt.
Fuck you too, then, I thought, but the words felt weak.
When the servants began to bring in fruits and sweetmeats, I caught Winnie’s eye and gave her a practiced nod.
“If I may,” Winnie stood, her smile more cheerful than usual. She’d latched onto my false plan with enthusiasm, believing the next move would evoke a positive reaction from our peers within the court and, hopefully, elevate my reputation. “My lady wishes to share something special.”
I lifted the box and displayed the sachets for all to see.
“For those who may not know, Lady Chastain hails from a distinguished line of apothecaries. She’s prepared a special digestive tea: a countryside specialty that promotes health after meals both rich and quaint.”