A Touch of Poison Read online

  A Touch of Poison

  Aaron Kite

  Five Rivers Publishing

  www.fiveriverspublishing.com

  Published by Five Rivers Publishing, 704 Queen Street, P.O. Box 293, Neustadt, ON N0G 2M0, Canada

  www.fiveriverspublishing.com

  A Touch of Poison, Copyright © 2014 by Jeff Minkevics

  Cover Copyright © 2014 by Jessica Alain

  www.jessicaallainart.com

  Edited by Lorina Stephens.

  Interior design by Lorina Stephens

  Title set in Mascara, designed by Rebecca Alaccari in 2004 for Canada Type.

  Text set in Adobe Casalon Pro, developed by Adobe and based upon the original English typeface created by William Caslon in 1722.

  All rights reserved. Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise), without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the publisher of the book.

  Publisher’s note: This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Published in Canada

  Library and Archives Canada Cataloguing in Publication

  Kite, Aaron, 1972-, author

  A touch of poison / Aaron Kite.

  Issued in print and electronic formats.

  ISBN 978-1-927400-59-3 (pbk.).--ISBN 978-1-927400-60-9 (epub)

  I. Title.

  PS8621.I835T69 2014 C813’.6 C2014-900524-5 C2014-900525-3

  For Kalysta, who knows how freaked out I can get when you mention ‘the bedbugs’...

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  About the Author

  Books by Five Rivers

  Chapter 1

  Even from way up in her tower bedchamber, Gwen couldn’t help but hear the young maid’s shrieks of pain.

  Retreating to her room hadn’t helped. The hundreds of thick grey slabs of rough-cut stone, the aging mortar that held them all together, the massive oak door that barred the entrance to the room — none of it seemed able to prevent the girl’s tortured screams from reaching Gwen’s ears. It was everywhere at once, and seemed the only thing she could hear.

  Gwen sat on her bed quietly, hands clasped in her lap, her dress smoothed out over her legs. Her calm, placid expression belied the feeling of guilt and dread that sat like cold gravel in her stomach.

  The screams ended briefly and then began anew, practically doubling in volume; Gwen felt her shoulders tighten even more. In fact, it felt as if her entire spine had been stolen and replaced with screeching violin strings. She brushed a stray lock of hair out of her face while sighing a bitter, anxious sigh.

  She hadn’t meant to touch that poor girl’s arm. It had been an accident.

  And besides, what was a castle maid doing wearing a sleeveless blouse in the first place? Sure, the day was hot enough for most everyone to eschew heavier clothing — Gwen herself was wearing a sleeveless gown today — but sleeves were part of the regulation uniform that applied to anybody who worked in the castle. How could Gwen have known she’d be sleeveless?

  And it had happened in the library, of all places. So, in addition to having to explain about that poor maid’s arm, Gwen would also have to try to explain what she was doing there to begin with.

  It wasn’t her fault!

  No, even if that unfortunate maid was one of the new girls, this wasn’t Gwen’s fault. There were rules. If you didn’t follow the rules and you ended up getting hurt, that was your own fault, wasn’t it? She had to follow rules she didn’t understand, and she was a princess! Did other people think the rules didn’t apply to them?

  “Gwenwyn!” a voice bellowed from somewhere beyond her heavy oak door.

  Great. Now he was coming.

  A moment later, she could hear the clomping of boots on the stone stairs leading to her tower bedchamber, and her stomach tightened further.

  “I won’t apologize. I won’t!” she said softly, her words sounding frightened even to her own ears. “This wasn’t my fault. If she’d been wearing sleeves like she was supposed to….”

  Gwen took a deep breath and lifted her chin, focusing her gaze on the door and preparing herself. It was always necessary to put up a token front. Gwen had learned early on apologizing immediately was never a good idea.

  She wondered what she should call him this time.

  There was always father, spoken with heavy irony and disdain — that one always annoyed him. It was over six weeks since her last incident though, and with all the changes he’d made around the castle, she was more than a little afraid. Honestly, she had no idea how angry he was going to be this time.

  Maybe it was best if she didn’t use father on this particular occasion.

  Highness might work. It really bugged him, but very rarely did he ever slap her for calling him that, even when she was all ironic about it.

  Without even a knock of warning, her massive bedchamber door burst open with a speed that should have been impossible. A moment later her father stood there in her room, the dark nothingness of the stairwell looming behind his round face like a black halo, his thin curls of brown hair selves like a briar patch on either side of the simple iron crown he wore. He looked angrier than she’d seen in a long time, and his massive chest heaved from the effort of climbing up the stairs.

  Gwen stood up from her bed as gracefully as she could and bowed from the neck, hoping the rest of her wasn’t trembling as badly as her tummy muscles.

  “Highness,” she said. “This is a delightful surprise. I hadn’t expected to see—”

  “Do you want to tell me what that is all about?” Bryn bellowed, jerking an angry thumb over his shoulder.

  As if on cue, another scream pierced the air. It was louder now that her bedroom door had been opened.

  “I’m sorry, could you be more specific?” she asked.

  Red-faced, Bryn took a slow, deep breath in through his nose, glaring hard at her as he exhaled. It was the sort of look that caused Gwen to decide she should forego the stalling and cut right to trying to explain what happened.

  “It wasn’t my fault!” she said quickly. “She brushed up against me! I didn’t even see her, because the lights are so dim in the library! It was just her arm and a light touch, so she’ll probably be fine. And besides, she should have known better than—”

  “You should know better!” the king roared. “I warned you about this months ago! New servants, all of them! They wouldn’t know, because they’re not supposed to know! Nobody around here knows better except for you! This was your fault!”

  “No, it wasn’t! She wasn’t wearing sleeves! They’re all supposed to, even if they don�
�t know why. You tell them yourself. Are mere servants allowed to ignore their king now? Anyways, now that she does know why, maybe she’ll—”

  “They’re here because they don’t know! That’s the entire point, for the love of Eirene! Brand new staff, top to bottom, filled with servants who come from far enough away that they don’t know anything about your condition, or that you—”

  “—were regularly force-fed herbs as a baby by my ogre of a father, who ruined my life, and made it so every living thing I touch burns, and blisters, and dies.” Gwen jutted her chin out at him just a little. “I’ve been meaning to ask; is this sort of like a fresh start for you? Are you finally properly ashamed of what you’ve done to your only daughter, and wish to hide it?”

  Eons passed as the two of them stared at each other in silence. Gwen saw her father’s fingers twitch, as though he contemplated fists.

  “Only daughter,” he growled, shaking his head at her ever so slightly.

  This was going to be a bad one. Well, it was too late to take all those words back now. Gwen returned his glare, and tried to look as regal as she could with her insides acting all twitchy.

  “Only daughter,” he repeated softly, striding forward, his face now inches away from hers, closer than anyone else ever dared. “Your mother dies bringing you into this world, and you figure it’s a mark of distinction, is that it? Willful, evil child! I raise you, feed you, clothe you, even after you kill your mother, and this is my reward, is it? A child who doesn’t do as she’s told, who can’t remember anything, and who carelessly inflicts pain on others wherever she goes? What were you even doing in the library to begin with? I’ve told you more times than I can count that I don’t want you going in there!”

  “Well what can I say, Dad?” she shouted back at him. “Do you want me to continue the normal-little-girl act or not? I’m fairly certain that princesses in other kingdoms get things like tutors, and access to books! You may not actually give a damn about me, but at the very least you might try to give other people the impression you want me to learn! And if I did kill Mom, why does the crystal I’m holding glow just as brightly as everyone else’s when we’re attending service? Why am I still a princess, and not banished like some criminal? Why does Eirene continue to bless me?”

  “And still she gives me back-talk, after everything I’ve done to—”

  “Done? I didn’t ask for any of this!” Gwen practically screamed at him, no longer concerned about damage control. “Am I supposed to be happy I’m like this? Gee, thank you, Father, for making it possible to accidentally kill people by brushing up against them!”

  “Wicked child! A lesser man would have left you in the forest to die years ago!”

  “You mean there’s lesser men than you?”

  Even as the words had left her mouth, Gwen knew that she’d gone way too far on that one. Out of instinct, she shut her eyes tightly and turned her head away from the hard slap she knew was coming.

  She waited, tense and afraid, but nothing happened. After a few moments, she risked a tentative look out of one eye.

  Bryn appeared relaxed, and was looking at her with a much softer, calmer expression.

  “Aww, Pumpkin,” he said, putting on a look of parental concern that practically oozed insincerity. “I haven’t thought about this from your point of view, and that’s not fair to you. My poor, sweet little girl.”

  Gwen eyed him warily, and her anxiousness increased tenfold. She really hated it when he got like this. In many ways, she’d almost prefer getting slapped.

  “Can I get you something — make it up to you? Obviously with everything going on I’ve been neglecting my dear, sweet daughter.” He rubbed his chin briefly and then snapped his fingers. “Wait, I know. I haven’t bought my little princess anything for a while. I could get you a nice present! Would you like that?”

  “I… don’t need anything, Highness,” she stammered, flinching slightly as another of the young maid’s screams found its way into the room. “I’m very sorry for raising my voice. It’s just that I don’t think it’s very fair to blame me for what happened, when—”

  “Yes, I know. I was being terribly unfair just now, and I want to make it up to you. I feel just awful.” His brow creased in thought, and a moment later his entire face was lit by a beatific smile. “I know just the thing! How about I get you another puppy?”

  Gwen suddenly felt like she’d been punched in the stomach.

  “There’s a fellow in town, runs the tavern by the grain mill, who just got a litter of the most adorable floppy-eared puppies you’ve ever seen in your life,” he continued, smiling mercilessly. “White and brown, mostly. We could go down there together, pick one out! Why, there might even be one that looks like...what was his name again? Ralph?”

  Her legs felt weak. The bedroom threatened to spin.

  “It was something like that, wasn’t it? Ralph? No, wait,” he smiled, a glint in his eye, “it was Rolf. I remember.”

  Gwen remembered too.

  Rolf had been just a couple months old when her father had educated her, many years ago. He’d brought a bunch of puppies to the castle one day, let her name them all, and encouraged her to watch them romp and play in their pen for an entire week. Then, he’d asked her to pick out her favourite, and told her that one would be her very own to care for, and love….

  And pet.

  For a little girl who was never touched at all, the very thought of such a thing had made Gwen so happy that she’d cried for joy.

  She was six. She hadn’t known.

  It was one of her earliest and most horrifying memories, staring down in shock at the poor, yowling puppy desperately trying to wriggle away from her, watching the terrified animal’s back and neck begin to sizzle and smoke, the smell of burned dog filling her nostrils. And all the while, she’d heard her father’s voice whispering in her ear in that sad, gentle monotone of his, “Just look what you’ve done. You must be an evil little girl. Everything you touch suffers.”

  It had been years since he’d brought up Rolf, though the poor, suffering animal often visited her in her nightmares, causing her to wake with a start, crying out and—

  “Do you even remember Rolf?” he mused. “I wonder. You might have been too young. Poor little thing had been so energetic. So full of life.”

  It was too much. Gwen began sobbing quietly, her entire bedroom becoming a blur of light she could barely make out through the sting of fresh tears.

  That was when the whole world flashed white and jerked sideways, and Gwen was knocked spinning onto her bed. Her cheek burned from where the rough brown leather of her father’s glove had connected.

  She felt paralyzed, unable to move her arms or do anything but lay there on the bed and wail silently, her occasional sobs mixing with the keening of the young maid downstairs.

  “You think you’ll ruin my plans?” Bryn roared savagely, his voice drowning out the cries of both girls. “Evil little wench! You think this time you can apologize for another of your little accidents and everything will be okay? Seventeen years, Gwenwyn! For over seventeen years I’ve worked for this, the only option your mother’s death left me and this wretched excuse for a kingdom! Seventeen years of my life spent chained to this miserable, pathetic little castle. Seventeen years spent chained to you, oh daughter mine. I will not allow you to ruin everything I’ve worked so hard for!”

  Gwen’s cry of “I’m sorry” came out as two tearful wails. The pain from her jaw told some part of her awareness that he’d used a fist this time, and not an open hand.

  “I’ve spent a small fortune, Daughter, to ensure nobody knows what you really are except you, Captain Anifail, and myself! Oh, and your precious lady-in-waiting, of course. Maybe I’ve let you have too much. Should I have sent Rhosyn away like I did all the other servants and staff? Would you like it if I sent her away as well?”

 
Gwen frantically shook her head, crying, only managing to mouth the word “no” at him.

  “You deserve worse, you wretched little girl! There’s a young woman down there,” he said, a chubby finger jabbing at the stairwell, “who has painful blisters all over her arm and neck, impossible to hide. Even if she does manage to live, I have to fire her now...just like I have to fire all those other girls who brought bandages and water, the ones who came to help her after you touched her. Witnesses, all of them! Three at least, but as many as six young ladies may be leaving the castle tonight, without employment or references or anything but the clothes on their back. And then I have to take time out of my busy schedule to find replacements for them. All because of you.”

  She tried to protest, but something happened to the words as they made their way to her mouth, and they all came out as sobs and strangled noises.

  “I know it’s been a very hot summer, Gwenwyn, but I highly suggest you rethink your position on wearing sleeves and gloves inside the castle, despite the heat. Unless, of course, you don’t particularly care about the new staff,” Bryn said, turning away from her and towards the door. “I have a dangerous feeling the next servant involved in one of your accidents may lose something considerably more valuable than their job.”

  With that, he drew his slightly dingy ermine-lined cloak around him imperiously and swept out of the room, the monstrous oak door closing behind him with a resounding slam.

  Gwen collapsed even further into her bed, wailing bitterly into her pillow, pressing it tightly against her face to muffle her cries.

  Chapter 2

  “Horrible,” Rhosyn said darkly, shaking her head. “No, I take that back. It’s monstrous! Gwen, how does someone who’s even capable of stuff like that ever get to be king?”

  “Well, I guess ruthlessness is part of the job,” Gwen replied softly, stepping around a solitary yellow flower that was just beginning to bloom. The grass was green and lush for the entire length of the field, but the dozen or so horses stabled nearby kept the various grasses short and manageable through grazing, and they often left things like flowers alone. The grass provided ample food for the entire herd. In fact, some days it seemed to Gwen that there was nothing more to Rhosyn’s job minding the stables than coming out of her cabin and taking them out riding, perhaps brushing out their manes from time to time.