A Touch of Poison Page 3

  It was amazing how expressive Anifail’s eyes could be. There was a flash of rage, followed by banked anger, which subsided to weary amusement. He hooked his thumbs in his belt and considered her for a moment before speaking.

  “Ah, me. Whatever shall I do? The princess is no longer fond of me, and mocks me with cruel words sharper than any sword. I shan’t sleep a wink tonight.” He smiled. “Still, I suppose it’s better to be a lapdog for a king than...a puppy for a princess.”

  Gwen tried not to react to his words, focusing instead on maintaining eye contact and looking regal. She relaxed her jaw once she realized she’d been clenching it. Anifail simply maintained his calm, relaxed pose, looking smug. He had a smile Gwen wanted to throw rocks at.

  “Anifail,” Bryn called as he walked through the doorway, idly leafing through a small stack of parchment he held, “do you remember what that fellow’s name was, the one we wanted to get to fix the portcullis? I want it done before… wait, never mind. I found it.”

  Pulling one of the pieces of parchment from the stack, the king walked up to his chair and tossed the remaining atop onto the table to his right. He sat down with a “Hoomph!”

  “Want me to send for him tonight, Highness?” asked Anifail, who remained leaning against the wall.

  “Yes. Tell him to fix it to the point where it works again, but nothing more. I want that thing functional before our visitor arrives.” Bryn appeared to notice Gwen, who had been standing behind her own chair. “Daughter,” he said, nodding to her.

  She briefly considered not bringing up the incident from that morning, but figured it was too risky. Sometimes when she’d done something that made him angry, he’d wait to see if she apologized a second time, and if she didn’t he often used it as an excuse to get angry at her all over again.

  Of course, sometimes he got angry when she reminded him of what he’d been angry about in the first place, so it was really anybody’s guess.

  “Highness,” she said, giving him a small curtsey. “If I may, I’d like to apologize once more for troubling you this morning. I’ve thought about what you’ve said, and have adapted my summer clothing according to your wishes.”

  He looked at her in puzzlement for a moment, like he had no idea what she was talking about. Then he caught sight of her long sleeves, and gave her the barest trace of a smile.

  “Oh, that. Well, no lasting harm done I suppose; it’s all worked itself out now, hasn’t it? Just need you in long sleeves for the time being — temporary thing. In fact, with any luck, you may be able to wear some proper summer attire before autumn arrives.”

  Gwen simply stood there, a little bewildered. No scowl, no name-calling or other nastiness, nothing! He simply accepted her apology, just like that.

  What was going on?

  She studied his face. It took a moment for her to figure it out.

  He was happy!

  “That’s, uh, good news, Highness,” Gwen said as she sat down in her chair.

  “Indeed. Well, Anifail, I spoke with the cook, and the roast squab will be here shortly. Until then, would you like to go over some of these work orders with me? Get everything organized?” Bryn gestured towards his nearby pile of parchment.

  “Of course,” said Anifail, pushing himself away from the wall and sauntering over to the king’s end of the table. “Soonest begun is soonest done.”

  “Captain, I had no idea you were a poet,” Bryn chuckled.

  Gwen’s confusion deepened.

  Her father no longer seemed the least bit bothered by what had happened that morning, which was unusual in the extreme. He seemed relaxed, and the corners of his mouth even went up from time to time in what she realized was a smile. And, to top it all off, he appeared to have a whopping pile of work to do, based on how high the pile of parchment was stacked, yet he didn’t look perturbed in the least.

  If it hadn’t been for Anifail’s puppy comment, Gwen might have believed she’d been transported to a magical land where everything was backwards.

  She sat there, paying attention to what was being said, trying to figure it out.

  “So, portcullis was the last of the outside work needing to be done, right? And inside the front door there was the bunting, the torch holders… oh, and those tapestries in the front can finally be replaced with the ones in storage.” Bryn scratched his chin, looking at the topmost piece of paper. “What else was there?”

  “Oiled veneer over the beams, and trim to make the wood look fresher,” said Anifail, taking a handful of documents and resting them on the table in front of him.

  “Ah yes! Thank you, Captain.”

  Veneer over the beams? If he was talking about the same beams Gwen thought he was, they needed to be replaced completely, not simply patched up and made to look better.

  “Father?” she asked, unable to contain her curiosity. “You’re in high spirits this evening.” She managed to stop herself from adding, Have you been drinking?

  The king looked over the table at her, fingers pressed together, smiling faintly. “Yes, I believe I am. An excellent mood, actually!”

  “Is there a reason for it?”

  “There is. A good reason, in fact, the source of which is so unusual it bears mentioning.” Bryn smiled cheerfully at her. “The reason, my dear Daughter, is you.”

  “Me?” Gwen immediately became more alert.

  “See? Didn’t I tell you it was unusual? I mean, most of the time you’re just a staggeringly dull and ill-behaved disappointment,” he laughed.

  She felt a small pang of hurt from that. Still, compared to his usual jibes, that one wasn’t bad at all.

  “Well, Highness, I suppose I’m delighted,” she said.

  Bryn’s eyes lit up a little. “Would you like to know why you’re the source of my good mood?”

  Honestly, she didn’t like the look on his face when he’d said that last bit, but it didn’t seem like a very good idea to say no. Gwen nodded for him to continue.

  “Well, Daughter, it seems word of your beauty has made its way to the ear of a young prince from Bespir, to the north of us, who has sent a courier to tell me he wishes to meet. It seems he may be interested in courting you.”

  Now she understood. It was a joke, a chance for a cruel laugh at her expense. No wonder he was in a good mood: opportunities like this one must be rare. Gwen took a few slow, deep breaths before speaking.

  “Well, I’m glad you get a bit of fun at my expense. Doubtless you’d like to read aloud the letter you’ve prepared, informing him of my condition, telling him not to bother. Very amusing. I’ve cried rather a lot today, but who knows? There might be a few tears left.”

  Both Bryn and Anifail looked momentarily confused by her words. Then, after a few moments, the king was laughing a great, booming laugh, one that echoed off the stone walls.

  Anifail didn’t laugh, but simply sat there, smirking a little to himself, waiting patiently for Bryn to finish.

  “Oh, Daughter,” Bryn managed to gasp about a minute later, wiping away a lone tear. “Oh, I forget how truly entertaining you can be. Send him away, she says. Oh, that is priceless! I wish there were more people I could share that with.”

  Gwen studied her father, confused. “You’re not turning him away?”

  “Gwenwyn, why in the world would I turn him away? Especially after all the effort and money I’ve spent circulating rumours about your breathtaking beauty?”

  Gwen thought she’d understood the joke, but suddenly it was as if the punch line was out of her grasp.

  “Why would you do that?” she asked, genuinely bewildered.

  “Why, to attract the notice of some dashing young prince, I would imagine.” His eyes appeared to twinkle as he spoke, and he was clearly pleased by her confusion. “And ‘lo, it’s happened! My daughter has a suitor.” Bryn leaned back in his chair and sniffed, as
though moved to tears.

  Anifail covered his mouth with the back of his fist, his shoulders shaking a little.

  Gwen still didn’t get it. Oh, she still knew this whole setup was just a cruel joke, that much was obvious. She just didn’t see what they found amusing about it. What was she missing?

  “You’re waiting until he’s down here to tell him? Oh, you want me to see his reaction, is that it?”

  That only caused Bryn’s guffaws to intensify. He sat there shaking his head, as though unable to believe what he’d heard.

  “Oh, Daughter, you crack me up. Really. I mean, why would I tell him anything at all?”

  Gwen stared at him, perplexed. “I’m poisonous, Father! He can’t so much as touch my arm! Why would you not tell him?”

  “Oh, I suspect he’s got more in mind than touching your arm,” he laughed, tenting his fingers and looking over them at her. “He is, from all accounts, a rather energetic young fellow, with quite a reputation when it comes to young ladies. You’ve got enough of your mother’s looks; I don’t think it’ll be hard to convince him settling down and getting married isn’t the end of the world.”

  Married?

  Gwen didn’t know what to think. She simply sat there, staring along the table at him, trying to understand.

  “You really don’t get it, do you?” Bryn asked finally, shaking his head in mock sorrow. “What do you think I’ve been doing all this time, hmm? What do you think you were for? Did you think I’d go to the trouble of tracking down the specifics of a thousand-year-old tale, spend hours researching the secret of a mysterious poisonous herb, fork over a small fortune for the bloody stuff, all just so nobody could touch you? Did you think I was doing all of this just to make you sad? Are you really that thick?” He laughed, sitting back in his chair. “Your touch may be impressive, my daughter, but it’s your beauty, and your saliva that I’m after.”

  “S-saliva?”

  “Exactly. I won’t tax your limited intellect by trying to explain what a neurotoxin is, but suffice it to say you’re positively loaded with the stuff. You’re immune, of course, but for anyone else just a drop of your saliva causes euphoria, numbness, convulsions, and eventually death. All it takes is a little bit in the mouth, or brushed on the lips.” He smiled in a way she didn’t like. “Say, a kiss’s worth?”

  Gwen went cold. She could feel the blood drain from her face, and her father’s words slowly made awful sense.

  “You’re going to kill him?” she asked disbelievingly.

  “How dare you imply such a thing, Daughter! This is a Goddess-fearing household, and the holy teachings regarding sin are quite specific!” The king folded his hands and regarded her smugly. “I spoke with Vicar Rapaul at length about this, just before he was... sent away. Why, it’s no sin to ensure your only daughter is married to a proper young gentleman! It’s also not a sin to forget to mention your rather unfortunate condition before your betrothal, or even after. No, Daughter, I’m not killing anybody.”

  Gwen felt sick.

  “Why?” she cried. “Why would you do this? Killing a prince from another kingdom? Do you want to start a war?”

  “Goodness, how quickly they forget! I just told you, Daughter — I won’t be killing anybody! My conscience will be clear. I will continue to receive Eirene’s blessings, and the crystal I’m holding during our very public weekly devotion to the Goddess will continue to glow, thus proving to the people of the kingdom that I am free of guilt, pure of heart, and can continue to be king. Whether or not Eirene continues to bless you is another matter; the vicar couldn’t really say one way or another. He personally felt you would lose Her favour, your crystal would darken, and you’d be banished from Calderia.” He shrugged. “Or put to death. The Ecclesial Courts take a dim view of queens murdering their husbands. Myself, I figure there’s a good chance Eirene would continue to bless you. After all, it’s not a sin to be poisonous, is it? And then, why, I’d be able to marry you to someone else all over again! Either one works out well enough, I suppose.”

  “But why would you do this?” Gwen asked. “For what reason?”

  “I’m doing it because Calderia is an insignificant, miserable little kingdom. Because we’re a land known for farming and animal furs and nothing else. Because the only way this Goddess-forsaken place is ever going to improve is through an affiliation marriage with a neighbouring kingdom.”

  “An alliance?”

  “Alliance,” Bryn scoffed. “It’s much more than that. An affiliation marriage combines two kingdoms by mutual agreement, becoming a single country through a blessed royal marriage: a princess and a prince, becoming king and queen. New blood from both countries cooperatively ruling the newly unified country in a manner that ensures both of the former countries are well represented. Although,” he gave her an oily smile, “if anything should happen to one of them….”

  Gwen could hear blood thrumming through her temples, and her head swam. Now it was clear. Power would fall to Gwen. Her father was arranging for her to become the sole ruler of two kingdoms.

  “I — I know nothing about being a queen!” Gwen protested.

  Bryn smiled at her patiently and looked at her over his tented fingers, and with horrible certainty, she suddenly understood this had been what he’d planned for her all along. She was to be a tool, an assassin’s dagger, a silk-rope garrote wrapped around the neck of whoever her father decided to marry her.

  If Eirene continued to bless her afterward, she’d be a figurehead, a mere puppet, with her power-hungry father holding the strings and making her dance. And if the Goddess considered what she’d done a sin — if her crystal went dark at the weekly devotion to Eirene — Gwen would be found unfit to rule and banished. Or worse.

  And it wasn’t exactly hard to guess who would rule both kingdoms in her stead.

  Her cheekbones hurt from trying to remain expressionless.

  Eventually Bryn and Anifail continued talking to each other about castle business, their conversation barely registering. She hardly noticed when dinner had finally been brought to the dining hall, and couldn’t even manage a quick word of thanks to the servant that set her plate in front of her, a reaction that was usually automatic. She simply sat there, staring right through the table, slowly trying to put the pieces of her life back together.

  From a fairly young age, Gwen understood she would forever be alone. She’d never know the tenderness of a kiss, never feel the flutter of butterflies in her stomach as a handsome young man leaned forward to press his lips to hers. She’d never feel a loving caress upon her arm, the warmth of another’s skin, or any of the hundreds of different ways writers and poets described that one thing most people took for granted: simple, human contact. For years she’d understood this.

  She’d just never been able to accept it.

  And now she knew what cruelty was. It was taking the only thing she’d ever wished for, the only thing she wanted in the whole world, and perverting it. It was giving her what she’d always dreamed, but at a price that was impossible to live with. It was plucking her from a wind-whipped sea and saving her from certain death, only to toss her upon a fire to be burned alive.

  It was every fairy tale in the world being torn in two and pulled apart before her eyes. It was her father handing her a puppy and laughing as it died.

  It was the end of hope.

  He’d taken her to a place beyond sadness, loneliness and fear. Now there was nothing. Just emptiness.

  Gwen found herself staring at the small, untouched piece of roast squab sitting on the plate in front of her. Her eyes focused on the small, pale chunk of meat, covered with small greenish-blue flecks —those loathsome herbs responsible for her pain, her misery.

  Through the fog that clouded her thoughts, Gwen realized she was about to become sick.

  Her chair squawked lightly in protest as she pushed it away fro
m the table and stood. The motion attracted the notice of her father and Anifail, both of whom ceased their talking and regarded her.

  “I need to be excused,” she said faintly.

  Bryn smiled sardonically at her and shrugged, dismissing her with a wave of his hand.

  “Yes, go. Don’t want you spoiling my good mood, after all. There’s some important matters I need to discuss with Captain Anifail anyways. I’ll have your dinner sent up for you.”

  He turned his attention back to the paper in his hands.

  Gwen turned her back to them and headed to the exit nearest the stairs, concentrating on putting one unsteady foot in front of the other. Eating that wretched piece of meat was the last thing she wanted to do right now, but she knew she’d soon find it outside of her door, and she wouldn’t be able to ignore it. She’d eat it eventually.

  “Oh, and Daughter?” the king called out behind her, the barest trace of laughter in his voice. “Your prince arrives here in six days. I thought you might wish to know.”

  Six days.

  Gwen stepped soundlessly out of the room. She waited until she was safely out of sight before wiping away the moisture now spilling down her cheeks.

  She had a few tears left in her after all.

  Chapter 4

  It wasn’t until late afternoon the following day Gwen was able to see Rhosyn and fill her in on what she’d learned. Her friend had been aghast at the news.

  “This is what he’s been planning all along?” she asked. “To get away with murder and still remain king?”

  “And double the size of the kingdom, apparently.” Gwen swiped at a nearby tuft of grass with the side of her boot. It seemed whenever the two of them wanted to talk seriously about something, they did it while walking through the pasture. Gwen hoped she wasn’t coming to associate the beautiful meadow and the smell of horses with the negative and emotional discussions about castle life.

  “I’d never even heard of that before — a marriage of what?”

  “Affiliation. Yeah, I hadn’t heard of it either. Apparently it’s more involved than just an alliance. The two kingdoms become one on the day of the marriage. It’s a huge deal. A priest even asks Eirene to bless the ceremony.”