Poison

by Megan Derr

  "Renewing an acquaintance," Ivan said, twining his hand with Ailill's. Envy coiled in Noire's chest, making it ache. He turned away to stare out the carriage window.

  "How was the royal ball?" Ailill asked when the silence had stretched on.

  Noire's breath hitched as thinking of the ball flooded his mind with images of Gael dancing with him, sneaking him away. That brief moment in the kissing nook, then being bent over the sofa and fucked hard, the way Gael had listened to him, apologized—

  "It was fine," he said, shoving the memories back and ignoring the sting of his eyes. "A ball is a ball. They do not change so much."

  "Spoken like a jade of the court," Ailill said with a laugh. "Here I am a duke, and I will be overwhelmed by it all."

  Ivan snorted, and Ailill jerked, not quite yelping, as Ivan pinched him. Noire could not endure another moment of their flirting, the easy, open way they were allowed to love each other. Closing his eyes, he let sleep finally have him.

  He woke up with a start, groaning when someone continued to roughly shake him. "Noire, we're stopping for a bit," Ailill said. "Are you all right?"

  "Stop asking me that," Noire said. "I'm fine."

  "Stop lying, and I'll stop asking," Ailill retorted. "Come on, we're going to stop to eat and stretch our legs, and we'll be back on the road in a couple of hours."

  Noire nodded, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. "I will follow shortly, just give me a moment to wake up so I do not stumble around like a simpleton."

  Chuckling, Ailill patted his thigh and then left him in peace. Noire sighed, raked a hand through his hair, and thought longingly of his bed. He yawned again, then heaved himself out of the carriage. Ignoring the traveler's post itself for the moment, he went over to the washrooms tucked back into a copse of trees several paces away.

  After he'd relieved himself, he finally headed into the post itself to find Ailill and Ivan. When he stepped inside the dining hall, however, it was empty save for a handful of people. Where were Ailill and Ivan?

  He shrugged it off; there were only so many places they could have gone, and they would not leave without him. Given the way they had been flirting, he had a sneaking suspicion what they had slipped away to do.

  While they had fun, he was more than willing to eat without them. Sitting down at a table near the door, he slumped groggily while he waited for someone to serve him.

  The room was hot, and Noire was too tired to feel like retaining his jacket. Unbuttoning it, he handed it to the man who came up with a pitcher of wine and a cup. "Just a fruit tray will be fine, thank you," Noire said with a smile, and handed off two coins. The man slipped away to hang up his jacket and fetch the requested food, leaving Noire relatively alone once more.

  He poured wine and sipped it while he waited for Ailill and Ivan to reappear. Really, where had they gone? Well, whatever. He let his mind drift, from the worrisome problem of the poisoned Beasts to dancing with Gael to kissing him to the way he'd apologized and then back to the Beasts and the looming ceremony.

  Raucous laughter drew him from his thoughts, and he looked up in time to accidentally meet the gaze of a tall, extremely slender man with a sharp, pointed face and mean eyes. The three men with him looked no better. Noire smiled politely, but with a sinking heart recognized the cold look that fell over all their faces.

  "It's a dirty faerie," the man with the pointed face said.

  Noire flushed at the insult, but remained stubbornly silent. He loathed getting into fights. Appearance was the dumbest possible reason to engage in violence. But clearly the men did not share his opinion, taking his silence as encouragement and raining down further insults as they crowded around his table.

  Still, he put up with it, drinking his wine and smiling stiffly and otherwise not looking at them—until one grabbed his hair and yanked his head back. "Pay attention, you half-dead whore," the man with the sharp face and eyes the color of green algae said.

  "I'm neither half dead nor a whore," Noire said. "You have no idea who I am, and if you let me go now, I will not press the matter. But if you do not unhand me, I promise you will regret it."

  In reply, the man just pulled him out of his seat by his hair and then threw him to the ground.

  That was enough for Noire. He shifted as he fell, landing smoothly on his feet and roaring in fury as he rammed his full body weight into the nearest two. Roaring again, he rounded on another, swiping his claws down the bastard's chest—enough to draw blood, but not do any real lasting damage.

  Something heavy hit him, landed on him, and rolled them across the room, knocking into tables and chairs. He heard other people scream and start running, heard somebody roar for them to stop—and then that voice was abruptly cut off.

  Noire yowled, threw off the weight pinning him down, snapped around, and slashed his claws across the face of the lion that had attacked him. He roared again, rounded on the two wolves coming toward him, pounced to strike—and then they all stopped as Ailill appeared in the doorway and unleashed the full power of a White Beast.

  They dropped to the floor, immediately submissive and compelled not to move. "What in the name of the Three is going on here?" Ailill demanded. "Shift, all of you."

  Obediently shifting, they went to circle around Ailill as he beckoned them. Reaching out, Ailill grabbed Noire's wrist and separated him from the rest of the group. "Tell me what happened."

  "I was drinking wine when they came in," Noire said. "They saw me and starting casting slurs. I ignored them. Then they grabbed me, threw me to the floor, and I decided I was tolerating nothing further."

  The man with the pointed face, the lion who had nearly gotten the better of him, sneered and said, "Your grace, he's as filthy as you are pure. Look at him! He belongs more to those corpse-lovers than—"

  "That is enough," Ailill thundered. "Do you not know whom it is you have assaulted?" Confusion filled the men's faces, along with a slowly growing dismay. "You have attacked none other than the Royal Voice of the Triad," Ailill said. "For that, you will be imprisoned until I have time to deal with you. Hope that by then, I have decided to be merciful. Until someone can be sent to arrest you and take you back to the city, you will be bound and locked up."

  The men fell silent, torn between genuine fear at what would happen to them and rage that they were in trouble because of someone who had only gotten what he deserved—someone in a position of which he was not worthy.

  Noire ignored them and simply turned and strode outside. There, he drew in deep breaths of fresh air, faintly sweetened by the white flowers growing in a field across the road. He pinched the bridge of his nose, trying not to think, trying not to feel, trying not to do anything but just be. Everything else just hurt too much. He wanted Gael.

  "Noire ..." Ailill touched his shoulder, but Noire jerked away.

  "I'm fine, please," Noire said.

  "I cannot even begin to tell you how sick I am of those words," Ailill said and took his arm, turning him around and then, to Noire's astonishment, hugging him tightly. "What's wrong, Noire? Please, tell me."

  Noire pushed him gently away, shaking his head. "I can't. I wish—I wish that I could, but I can't. I made a vow and I intend to keep it."

  "There is no point in keeping a vow that is slowly killing you."

  "That's not true," Noire said softly. "Every day the Triad pushes on knowing that all their efforts could be for naught. Is not waiting for death the way they must the same as slowly dying? They cannot truly live, not when they live like that. Yet they smile and rule and serve with never a single word of complaint."

  If Gael and Freddie and Etain could do that, then he could survive for two and a half more months. Feeling sorry for himself would accomplish nothing, and by the Oak, he would remember that.

  Looking up, he smiled more genuinely. "If the Triad can face all that lies before them bravely, so can I. And speaking of the Triad, we are due in the palace. Enough dawdling, your grace. You have been ordered to return home with
all haste. Do so."

  "Yes, Voice," Ailill said, and he smiled as he led the way back to the carriage.

  Chapter Seven: Suspect

  Ailill followed Noire through the halls of the palace until they reached a section of it he had not yet seen—which seemed impossible, given just how easily he got lost. Noire halted in front on an enormous set of double doors carved with a representation of the Great Oak. The guards on either side of the door grabbed the handles and laboriously pulled the heavy doors open, and Noire led the way into Trinity Hall.

  "I'll wait out here," Ivan said, gesturing to the benches nearby.

  "Wander off to find food if you get hungry," Ailill replied, smiling. "Hopefully this meeting will go quickly, but if not, I'm sure I'll find you back at my house eventually." With a parting kiss to Ivan's cheek, he followed Noire into the hall.

  Like the Sanctuary, it had a glass ceiling. Late evening light cast long, sleepy shadows across the floor. Servants were walking the perimeter of the enormous hall quickly, but carefully lighting the wall sconces. The walls were of white marble, set with windows interspersed with the sconces. Tapestries depicting the gods and well-known stories hung between the windows and the glass ceiling. At the very back of the hall, the wall was covered by an enormous painting of all the gods gathered before the Great Oak, their bestial forms wavering translucent behind them.

  In front of the painting were three thrones, with Etain in the middle, Gael to the right, and Freddie on the left. Arranged in front of the thrones were two rows of six seats, interspersed with small tables. In the seats before Gael sat the Beasts under his domain: the Lion, Owl, Fox, Stag, Mongoose, and the vacant seat of the Eagle.

  Before Freddie's throne were her Beasts: the Hawk, Ram, Bear, Bat, and two vacant seats. One was his own, which meant that Lord Lyall, the White Wolf, was the second victim of poison.

  Kneeling before the Triad, Ailill rose when Etain said he could, then walked to join his companions. He nodded politely to all of them, but approached the White Bat, Verenne Tolbert, and kissed the back of her hand and her cheek. They had become White Beasts around the same time and arrived at the palace within days of each other. She was the only one he had really met before he left to track down and retrieve the lost crown jewels.

  "It's good to see you again, Lord Ailill."

  "Lady Verenne, the very same," Ailill said and then took his seat. He glanced at the thrones where Noire had taken up his position just behind and to the right of Etain. He was stark against the excess of white, a beautiful complement. But the shadows in his eyes troubled Ailill, and not because he was pretty certain he had fallen under suspicion. Whatever was tormenting Noire needed to be fixed before it broke him.

  Gael rose and moved to the front of the dais, and all the soft, nervous chatter ceased. "Thank you for coming, White Beasts. I am sure you have noticed that two of our number are missing. Lady Elianne and Lord Lyall have been poisoned. They are not dead, but neither will they wake. We have placed them in the Sanctuary. We have called you to begin figuring out who could poison a Beast and why they would be willing to jeopardize the ceremony this way."

  "You think one of us could be responsible," Verenne said, hurt and anger on her face as she regarded the three of them.

  "We must consider every possibility," Freddie said, standing up to join Gael. "Though it pains us to cast our Beasts under suspicion, there are precious few options for would be killers. The faerie children are yours to command when you must, and you are resilient in all ways. No normal poison should be able to render you comatose, and yet two of your brothers have fallen. We will interview each of you in turn. All but the White Lion may wait in the hall until summoned."

  Almost as one, the Beasts rose and filed out. Ailill paused before Verenne and offered his arm. She took it with a warm, if strained, smile and walked with him out to the hall. "You look well, Ailill. Let us hope we all look half as well when this ceremony finally ends."

  "I will settle for living," Ailill replied. Out in the hall, Ivan immediately strode toward him. "Lady Verenne, may I introduce Lord Ivan, the Duke of Vaklov, a very good friend of mine from Pozhar."

  Verenne laughed. "Yes, you are a fire child through and through. You must be a very good friend, indeed, to come here at so tense a time."

  "Your grace, Pozhar was a land of tension for much longer than Verde. I assure you, what you call tension still seems relaxing to me," Ivan said and bowed over her hand.

  Laughing again, Verenne kissed his cheek, then stepped away from them. "I am going to arrange refreshments. You shall have to come visit me when we have time, Ailill. I want to hear all about your travels."

  "Of course," Ailill replied and kissed her cheek before she left.

  "So what is going on?" Ivan said. "That was entirely too brief a meeting."

  Ailill motioned them to a bench and sat down with a yawn. "They think one of the Beasts is behind the poisonings."

  "There was a second one then, as we feared," Ivan said. "So you are probably their favorite candidate. I knew you were nothing, but trouble, cat."

  "Nothing, but trouble and yet here you are," Ailill said with a grin, and he really did not care that he was in the middle of the royal palace any longer. He leaned in closer and took a brief kiss.

  Ivan tugged at a loose strand of Ailill's hair after they drew apart. "You might have noticed I like trouble."

  "That's good," Ailill said with a sigh, "because I fear we are going to be seeing a great deal of it from here on in. Whatever happens, we need to keep investigating. If they lock me up, you'll have to manage without me."

  "If they lock you up, there will be a jailbreak the next day," Ivan replied.

  Ailill's mouth quirked. "Vanya, you're a duke now. Dukes are not allowed to sneak into prisons to break other people out. Especially not a White Beast incarcerated by the Triad itself."

  Ivan snorted and reached up to sink one hand into Ailill's hair, drawing him close and settling Ailill's head on his shoulder. "Now, cat. Two years ago I attempted to defy the crown and the Firebird himself just to help a miscreant little thief. I went to turn myself in and came out of it a duke. Do you really think I am scared of royalty at this point? They cannot do too much to me, anyway. I'm a personal friend of the Tsar, even if I do not entirely understand why."

  "Hopeless," Ailill said, and he'd meant to say more, but pressed up against Ivan, soaked in his warmth and smoky scent, it was impossible. His eyes slipped helplessly shut, the buzz of conversation around them fading as he succumbed to sleep.

  He groaned in displeasure when someone shook him awake sometime later and scowled up at Noire. "Go away."

  "Get up," Noire said, mouth twitching as he fought a grin. "The Triad has called for you."

  That jolted Ailill back to awareness, and he reluctantly dragged himself from Ivan's arms. He looked back before he vanished into the hall, warmed by the smile Ivan gave him. He was definitely going to need to look harder at the reasons he was so addicted to a man he had not seen for two years and had only known for a matter of weeks before that.

  As he entered the hall and strode up to the thrones, Ailill tucked thoughts of Ivan away and focused on his current dilemma. "Your majesty, your highnesses," he said and knelt, bowing his head low.

  "Lord Ailill," Etain said, her voice sweet, soothing; it was the kind of voice that made it hard to hold onto anger, no matter how hot that anger burned.

  Made it hard, but not impossible. Ailill kept his anger back, burning like embers, ready to set something ablaze should he need it. "How can I be of service to you, majesty?"

  "You have always served faithfully, Lord Ailill. Like I and my siblings, the White Beasts find it difficult to be away from Verde for any length of time. We are the heart that pumps the blood of the kingdom. Yet you were steadfast, and all these years have traveled the world to bring back the pieces that were lost."

  Ailill was growing tired of the flowery language. "And now you fear that I lost myself in
the process and want the ceremony to fail."

  Silence fell in the wake of his blunt words. Ailill decided to take it as permission to keep speaking. "I will be the first to admit that I do not want to be here. That I do not like being a White Beast. I was happier elsewhere, even when I was stuck down and nearly killed … " He trailed off as thinking about how he had almost died reminded him of the dead Minister of Magic, who had been corrupted by shadow magic. "That's what you think," he said. "You think what happened to me might run deeper than his Highness could fix. I am not shadow poisoned, Majesty, highnesses. But I agree shadow magic might be at play and am looking into the matter. I have always done my duty. I continue to do it and will continue to do it."

  "Yes, Lord Ailill, you are dutiful," Freddie said. She glanced at her siblings as they turned to her, and at their nods said, "I think we can safely declare that you are free of corruption, Lord Ailill. I think we safely return to the assumption that someone outside the inner circle is behind these attacks, someone with a great deal of knowledge if they are able to devise a poison that can put a White Beast in a coma."

  "If it is Schatten responsible, I fear where the culprit may be lurking," Etain said softly.

  Fear and remembered pain seized Ailill's body as he recalled that night in the inn. The way he had not been able to move. The pain, merciful Triad he would never forget how much everything had hurt.

  He also remembered how Ivan had taken care of him, their farewell on the ship. And Ivan had come to see him, even after two whole years of silence. Thoughts of Ivan steadied him. "If Schatten is responsible for this, I will figure that out. But it could be anything; if I have learned anything over the years it is that guessing someone's motive is nearly impossible."

  "Let us hope it is not impossible," Gael said. "We will continue to leave the investigation to you, Lord Ailill. Did you learn anything at Lady Elianne's estate?"

  "No, highness," Ailill replied. "I lingered only to study some of Lady Elianne's books. She has quite the impressive collection, and I had hoped one of them might produce information on the poison. Ivan and I thought it might be the very same poison that killed the late Tsar, but without a body to examine, we cannot be sure."