Chapter 10 #2
I rose, moving with deliberate composure around the table.
One by one, I offered the sachets with a demure smile, my eyes avoiding Percy’s as I placed one particular packet beside his goblet.
Each tea appeared identical: fragrant blends of chamomile, linden, and elderflower.
Only Percy’s contained the carefully measured addition of white hellebore.
Winnie continued her cheerful explanation with a complete lack of awareness for the deception. “This family remedy is renowned in Finn’s Hollow. Lady Chastain thought it a fitting way to share her heritage with the court that has so graciously welcomed her.”
I returned to my seat, heart thundering beneath a placid exterior. Soon enough, I’d witness the outcome of my misdeed.
My eyes briefly met the prince’s. He seemed impressed with the act of kindness, not at all suspicious.
When the hot water finally came around, he was the first to take a sip.
His eyes crinkled at the corners. For that brief moment, he was unburdened, perhaps even nostalgic.
I noticed a dimple in his smile, one I’d missed up to now. It was almost endearing.
The courtiers applauded my efforts. Percy didn’t clap, but he did drink; in fact, he drank it all down quickly, pairing it with a scone to sweeten the bitter flavors of the tea. He dabbed his mouth with a napkin, then reached for some candied grapes.
To cover my tracks, I made myself a poison of much weaker dosage, and as it stained the water, I readied myself for what was to come. Somehow, I willed myself to drink it down, my fingers trembling on the teacup all the while.
I tried not to make my observation of Percy apparent.
I found elsewhere to look between stolen glances, watching others at the table.
My eyes landed on Lord Quinn, merely a random glimpse and not for any particular purpose, but he exuded such an aura of suspicion that I couldn’t turn away.
I tried to put him at ease with a smile, but the viscount didn’t play along.
Those black eyes glared right back at me.
He glanced pointedly from my hands to Percy’s teacup, brow climbing in silent inquiry. When I finally tore my eyes away, Lord Quinn’s gaze only intensified, boring into me with such knowing precision that I felt stripped bare. I half-expected him to announce what I’d done.
His focus shifted to Percy. Beneath the table, I clutched my skirts.
Percy wiped again at his mouth, then at the beads of sweat accumulating on his forehead. He reached for his goblet with trembling hands, his complexion paling.
“Gods,” Percy muttered, the rare sound of his voice making the room fall quiet. He looked up as if surprised that he’d spoken, then slapped a hand over his mouth and stood so abruptly that his chair fell backwards.
Queen Adelaide braced her hands on the table. Her brow pinched, a rare moment of emotion in her otherwise unreadable face. “What is the matter, nephew?”
“Forgive me, Your Majesty, I—”
Vomit spewed across the table. There was a loud scraping of chairs as the courtiers hurried to get away. Percy seized his neighbor by the shoulders and threw him aside, running for the door.
He doubled over near the entrance to the dining hall, stomach churning loudly.
I gasped and covered my mouth, leaning closer to Winnie for some sense of protection from the horror.
I knew his tea would work quickly, but now I found myself hoping, selfishly, that the man would not die in front of me.
Percy clutched his stomach, and a terrible expulsion of his bowels echoed through the room. The evidence was quickly apparent, dribbling down his leg and staining the back of his cream-colored breeches. A complete sense of mortification washed over him, and he collapsed.
Someone screamed. I buried my face in Winnie’s shoulder, but I couldn’t shield myself from the sounds of Percy’s suffering. My gut clenched in a twisted mirror of his agony as I grappled with revulsion and my own vindication. That satisfaction horrified me more than the poisoning itself.
A cold sweat dampened my powdered brow. I thought of my parents, who had urged me to kill him. Would they still approve now, if they had to sit and watch?
Remarks of weakly-concealed amusement, disgust, and of horror murmured across the hall, but the head of the table was silent. I peeked through one eye toward the prince as he exchanged looks with Lord Quinn, both of them conversing in that silent language they occasionally shared.
“How awful,” Winnie remarked quietly, a hand resting atop my head. She stared at the soiled floors with grim relief, shaking her head as new servants came rushing in with buckets and mops. “I’ve never been more grateful to be a lady again.”
“Let us all say a prayer for my dear nephew,” Queen Adelaide spoke up, halting those who had prepared to leave without proper excuse.
They turned, eyeing the mess, and joined her in respectful gesture.
“And perhaps those of us who smiled in the face of his misfortunes should pray for themselves, as well.”
Across the table, Angharad sat in gaping disbelief.
The marchioness set her tea aside with care, fingers lingering on the handle.
She caught my eye and gave an almost imperceptible nod, as if acknowledging a fellow player in a game she hadn’t realized I was playing.
Then, composing herself, she joined the others in prayer with inscrutable piety, though her eyes remained open and watchful.
I slowly craned my head to the prince as the rest of the room bowed in prayer. His expression was blank and unknowable, save for the smallest of smiles that tugged at the corners of his lips.