Warriors of Wind and Ash - Page 74

So the poisoner is a woman.

A memory flashes through my mind… Parma taking strands of hair from my brush.

If curative spells require samples from the target, perhaps magical poisons do as well.

It’s unthinkable, and yet… Parma was so quiet when she came into my service. So reserved. Seemingly shy. Maybe there was a reason for that. Maybe she was hiding secrets.

No… that can’t be right. I know her. She cares about me. She would never—

Would she?

Rahzien is flushed, still aroused and possibly angry at himself for hinting at the poisoner’s identity. “Forget the private dinner,” he says. “You don’t deserve it. No meals for you today.” He turns on his heel and marches out of my suite.

No food, again. And I’m starving.

I drop into a chair, my strength sapped by the moment of defiance. Somehow I have to escape this room and warn Kyreagan that Rahzien plans to kill him. I don’t know if I can physically summon the energy. If only I had something in my stomach…

Irritated conversation from beyond the door attracts my attention. I don’t hear Rahzien’s voice, but someone is arguing outside my room. I venture to the door and open it.

Vela, a servant from the kitchens, stands in the hall with a tray, her face flushed as she confronts the two Vohrainian guards flanking the entrance to my room. “Begging your pardon, but I have my orders,” she says.

Neither guard is helmeted today. It feels strange, seeing the bare faces of the conquerors. They look so… normal. One of them leans forward, his nose wrinkled as he peers at the tray. “The King said the Conquered Consort isn’t allowed any meals.”

Vela looks from the guard to me. Perhaps she sees the hunger in my eyes, because she says, “Respectfully, milord, this isn’t a meal. It’s tea. And it was ordered by Prince Gildas of Zairos, as a courtesy to the Conquered Consort, a thanks for the dance they shared last night. None of us want to be responsible for a diplomatic incident, nor should we disturb the King with such a small matter. Please allow me to make the delivery.”

Kyreagan sent me tea. Delighted warmth spreads through my chest as I imagine him ordering it. Fuck, I love him.

The guard looks at his companion, who shrugs. “His Majesty said no lunch or dinner. Never said she couldn’t have tea.”

“Oh, very well. Proceed.”

Vela enters and sets the tray on the table. “A selection of our finest teas, with the Prince’s compliments.” In an undertone she adds, “And some things from the cook, to accompany the tea.”

She nods toward a small covered dish, then backs out of the sitting room and closes the door.

Snatching the lid from the dish, I discover a toothsome selection of tiny cakes and frosted cookies. Greedily I stuff my mouth with them, devouring each crumb as fast as I can, lest the guards think better of their decision and try to take the food away.

Once the sweets are safely in my stomach, I lift one of the tiny teapots and inhale the fragrant steam from its spout. “Fennel and apple,” I murmur. The second miniature teapot is black tea with bergamot orange—I recognize its sharp, bitter smell. That one’s good for restoring energy, so I pour the contents of the fat-bellied little pot into a cup, blow on it to cool the surface, and drink it down.

I’m on my third cup of tea—chamomile and honeybush—when a plan forms in my mind. A way that I can leave my suite and locate Kyreagan, so I can warn him about the King.

The study door and the sitting room door are both guarded, and the secret passage in my closet has been bricked up. But all I have to do is get the guards to leave—and Kyreagan unknowingly handed me the perfect strategy.

First I go through my study to the secondary exit from my chambers. When I open the door, the guard who’s standing there startles violently and chokes on some liquid that he was drinking from a small flask. He wheezes so horribly that I pat him firmly on the back, as if I’m trying to help.

“I’m sorry I surprised you,” I say. “God, are you alright? I was only going to ask if you could go quietly to one of the maids and ask for some supplies for me. My bleeding cycle just started. Oh, and see if the healer has a tonic for the cramps. It’s not something she can heal, of course, but I need some relief.” I press one hand to my lower belly. “I know you’re not a servant, but they’ve cut all the bells to my room, so I can’t ring for one. I won’t tell His Majesty about the drinking if you’ll just do this for me. Please.”

Still wheezing, he nods and hurries away down the hall.

For once, a man’s discomfort with the topic of monthly bleeding has worked in my favor.

I could slip out this door, but the sightlines from this spot and the main doors of the suite intersect at the corridor I need to take, the only route the wing where diplomats and foreign dignitaries are usually housed. When I saw Kyreagan earlier, he was coming from that direction. Which means I have to get rid of not only this guard, but the other two as well.

Ducking back into my suite, I cut through my bedroom to the sitting room. Then I push over the table holding the tray. I wince a bit as the tea things clatter and tumble to the rug, spilling the rest of the tea. With a sharp scream, I crumple to the floor, holding my belly.

One of the guards opens the door and leans in.

“Help me,” I gasp. “Oh god… I think Prince Gildas has poisoned me. I need someone—anyone—please, you have to do something!”