Five Poisoned Apples

by Skye Hoffert et al.

  “Fine. I’ll drink it.” Oren took a noisy gulp then turned back to her. “Only because you’re troubled too. You’re worried about these women, but who’s to say it isn’t just gossip?”

  Livna twisted the end of her sash in her fingers as she considered the possibility. “No, I don’t think so. Who would dream up such gory tales? And everyone’s tense. Something must be wrong. Have you heard anything from Nava?”

  “Actually,”—Oren studied her briefly then shifted his gaze to a nearby olive tree—“I hadn’t planned to tell you. You know I hate to complain, but her constant demand for beauty glamours isn’t the only thing she’s been up to.”

  “Oh?” Livna lifted a brow and leaned closer to better hear Oren’s lowered voice.

  “She’s been purchasing more Dwarven from huntsmen in the mountains.”

  A sliver of fear sliced through Livna’s heart. “Is she not pleased with your talents in enhancing her looks?” She dared not add out loud her follow-up question: If Nava was no longer satisfied with Oren’s abilities, would she get rid him?

  But Oren shook his head. “I doubt it. She used to want to replace me because of my harsh tongue, but she knows I’m the only one who can capture her desired look. I fear she’s gathering them for some darker purpose, though I cannot guess what. She has often held secret Councils with Thorus over the years, locked away in her chamber. I don’t know what dark magic he performs for her, nor would he ever tell me. That Dwarven is far too loyal to his mistress. However, these new Dwarven are being kept in cages and only dragged out once or twice to test the strength of their power.” The fingers of Oren’s left hand raked through his white hair. “I only wish I knew what they were doing.”

  “Do you think it’s connected to the missing and disfigured women?” Livna asked softly.

  “Perhaps. But what would she gain from harming them? It’s not as if she’s to be presented with them as a potential bride.”

  “Yet she’s never appreciated a threat to her superior beauty,” Livna murmured. “You know how she longs to be acknowledged as the Fairest One and has often viewed any lovely woman as a personal threat.”

  Oren sighed heavily. “I’ll try to keep a closer eye on her doings. I intended to anyway now that she has enslaved more of my people. I cannot get close to them; she has soldiers guarding their cages in a room not too far from this garden. But perhaps she or Thorus might let something slip.”

  Relief like a gentle breeze soothed Livna’s spirit. Oren always knew how to set her at ease. Yet another concern tightened her chest as the shadows around them deepened. “Thank you, Oren, but please be cautious.” She reached to clasp his hand in both of hers. “I could not forgive myself if something happened to you.”

  For a moment no sound passed between them, and Livna listened to the singing of cicadas in the garden before she realized Oren had gone very still as he stared at her hands wrapped around his. Livna felt a blush creep over her face and began to pull away, but Oren’s fingers suddenly grasped hers. With his free hand he lifted a silencing finger to his lips and gestured toward the nearest path.

  The women Livna had seen earlier rounded the bend, their feet crunching against the pebbled sand with every step. They were quieter now but still whispered their gossip to each other. A lark swooped directly before them and dove to the ground near where Livna and Oren sat. Livna held her breath as the women gasped in surprise, hoping they would not notice the Dwarven and princess in the shadows. After a few loud complaints, the women continued on their way.

  “The sun is nearly set,” Oren mumbled as he tugged his hand free and rose to his feet. “We should head inside before we encounter anyone else.”

  Livna stood beside him and smoothed her robes with empty hands. “Our private garden is not so private as it once was.”

  In companionable silence the pair passed amid desert flowers and between twisted trees to the palace entrance. Livna paused at the threshold. “Oren, do be careful, like I asked. I can listen for information too. No one really notices me, so I might be able to learn something.” She laid a hand on her friend’s shoulder. “I know you’re worried for these new Dwarven, but remember I’m worried for you too. So stay safe.” She forced her face into her sternest expression. “Get some rest.”

  Some of the tension seemed to seep from Oren’s stance as he gave her an exaggerated bow. “Yes, Your Royal Highness. I shall do as you command.”

  She shook her head at his antics. “I’m serious, Oren.”

  “Never fear. I shall obey you this instant.” Oren took several steps along the hall but turned back beside a latticed window. “Sleep well, Livna. I’ll see you again as soon as I have an evening to spare.”

  Livna nodded and watched as he disappeared into the shadowy distance before she turned her own steps in the opposite direction, through a courtyard and toward the women’s quarters, a separate building where many of the finer ladies were currently housed. Once inside, she passed a number of them seated along the hallways as they whispered together, called greetings merrily, or braided each other’s hair. Some even worked expensive lotions into their skin, hoping to develop a glowing complexion for the emperor’s arrival. It felt strange to see so many women here. The women’s quarters had always been used for female guests of rank, but never had so many gathered at once.

  Livna slipped along a final, narrower hall, her sandals making no sound upon the worn cedar floor. At the last doorway she turned and entered the little room. When the guests first began arriving, she had overheard a few of them talk about how strange it seemed for the princess to dwell in such a secluded corner of the palace, but she tried to ignore their words. Her room suited her needs, and the finer, larger suites were saved for Father’s important guests and visitors.

  Glancing at her bed cushions in the corner, Livna realized she would not fall asleep soon with so many concerns still floating across her mind. Instead of preparing for bed, she lit a candle and knelt beside the large chest where she kept her robes. After a moment of searching, she pulled out an older robe which needed repairs on the beadwork at its hem. Such a task should keep her busy until she grew tired.

  Before closing the chest, Livna let her fingers pause on the stack of sashes in its corner. At the top lay Mother’s fine sash. She had scarcely worn it since that day ten years ago when she wrapped it around herself for courage and entered the queen’s suite, hoping to win her father’s love. The sash was really far too fine for anything but the most important of events.

  Her fingers traced the rainbow of colors as its threads shone in the candlelight. From the center of the sash rose a firebird, a phoenix like the one decorating the entrance to the queen’s suite. Livna sighed. If only she could be as bold and fiery as this mythical bird and shine light on the mysteries around her as she soared into the sky without fear or worry. If she were so bold, she could help her people in their time of need, and no one would suffer.

  At last Livna pulled her hand from her mother’s keepsake, gripped her damaged robe in one hand, and reclosed the chest. In her heart she doubted she would ever have a chance to help her people or truly prove herself to her father.

  As she sank into the cushions of her bed, Livna’s chest tightened again. Even if such an opportunity did arise, what could she do to help anyone?

  Chapter Four

  Frenzied voices and footfalls echoed down the halls just after sunrise.

  Livna scurried from bed and tiptoed to her door. Their words were too muddled to discern, but the women sounded excited rather than anxious. A blast of the royal horn sounded, and she scrambled to her chest of robes to throw on a tunic. The horn could only mean an announcement from the king, and Livna’s heart pounded in her chest as her mind contemplated a plethora of dark reasons for so early a summons. The early air still felt chilly, so she draped a woven blanket over her shoulders before slipping through her doorway and toward the inner palace. The muted stir of a crowd emanated from the throne room.

 
Other ladies scrambled about, some fully dressed, others garbed only in loose robes without sashes at their waists. She recognized several from the women’s quarters, but others looked sweaty, as if they had run from a greater distance at the sound of the horn. A number of men joined the throng as well, many of them fathers hurrying from other parts of the palace to find their daughters and approach the throne room together.

  Knowing King Ehud would never greet her in such a way, Livna swallowed down a bitter taste in her throat. Nevertheless, she needed to assure herself he was well and no harm had befallen him in the night to warrant the blowing of the horn.

  Inside the throne room, torches blazed from every pillar, and Livna found herself pressed into a crowd of ladies, families, and servants who surged closer to Father’s throne at the end of the room. Panic pulsed through her veins, and she jerked her head left and right, searching for a glimpse of Father or Oren.

  Her ears picked up a few animated words as the crowd pushed her closer to the throne:

  “—here now?”

  “How much time do we have?”

  “—couriers just left.”

  “Settle down!” King Ehud’s voice echoed over the chaos as the crowd churned Livna closer to the throne. Now she only hoped to see his and Oren’s faces to be entirely sure of their safety.

  “Yes, the emperor’s couriers have spoken to me,” the king continued to call out. “He will arrive this afternoon, and the presentation will begin soon thereafter. Only those who are presented may enter the banquet hall when the time comes, so ensure you are ready, for only my guards and my wife’s attendants will join us and the women when we meet the emperor. You must make do without servants or other distractions.”

  Livna stood on the tips of her toes to look over the broad shoulder of the man directly in front of her and struggled to steady her breathing. Everything is fine. Father is well, she told herself. You can hear his voice, and he’s simply announcing the emperor’s arrival and presentation.

  The presentation.

  Livna’s head whipped around to take in the women crowded into the small throne room. Many more would be at the presentation. Surrounded by so many strangers, Livna found it difficult to remain calm. Thinking of the missing women, she wondered how safe everyone would be at the presentation. Father said he would have guards there, and Oren had promised to listen for trouble.

  Livna’s fingers dug into her palms, wishing she could do something, anything to keep her father, Oren, and her people safe.

  “Now, everyone,” Father’s voice continued to boom over the excited crowd, “return to your rooms. Prepare yourselves for the presentation. You must look your best if you wish for the emperor to choose you. He has already visited much of the Empire and seen many women. I’ve also sent messengers throughout the city, so more women of the Tribes will soon join you. Now, back to your rooms at once! Make ready.”

  Livna finally glimpsed the top of Father’s graying head over the tall man’s shoulder. At that moment, a woman to Livna’s left jostled against her as someone stepped on the blanket hanging from her shoulders. She felt it ripped from her grasp and stumbled to keep her balance as the man in front of her leaned to the side. Rather than falling to the wooden floor, she ended up in the cleared semi-circle directly before her father.

  Heat flushed her cheeks, and she scarcely dared glance up from the purple embroidery hemming his long robe. Father certainly could not ignore her now, standing barefoot and hair askew before him, in direct defiance of his command to leave the throne room.

  “Livna.”

  With an effort, she dragged her gaze from the floor to the man who had not spoken her name in years, and never so gently. Meeting his eye, she saw a look of appraisal followed by a flash of wonder cross his face. He lifted his hand as if to touch her shoulder.

  “You have grown.”

  Livna bobbed her head in a short nod, for she did not trust the stability of her voice.

  “I fear I have not truly seen you in a long time, daughter.” His salt-and-pepper brows bunched in confusion. “Have you a reason to seek me out?”

  Attention, reassurance, love. Livna shook her head slowly.

  The king gestured around them at the quickly emptying throne room, and Livna’s breath caught in her throat as she spied the closest semblance to a smile she had witnessed on his stern mouth in years. “Are you certain? Most who come here seek my favor. Is there some boon you would ask me to grant?”

  A favor. Livna straightened her spine, squared her shoulders. “My only desire is for my king’s happiness and the kingdom’s peace and well-being.”

  He released a wry laugh and sank to the golden seat of his throne. “Would that I could grant such a request. Is there nothing else you seek?” He leaned his elbows on his knees and rested his face in his hands.

  Livna tried not to let disappointment consume her. She could hear in his voice that he was already dismissing her. Desperation and longing clawed in her chest, and something inside simply refused to be pushed to the shadows again so soon. Her deep need to be noticed by her father intensified now that she received a shred of attention.

  Staring at the deep lines of her father’s face as if from a great distance, Livna knew she must act quickly to have any hope of keeping his notice. Yet do I deserve it? Livna hung her head. She could not even keep those she loved safe from unknown threats. If only she could discover more, find some measure of control and reassurance. Some form of power.

  She raised her chin. “I do have one request, Father.”

  “Hmm?” Rubbing his eyes, he didn’t look up.

  With a strangely firm voice, Livna continued: “I would like to be among the women presented to Emperor Vandrus.”

  Slowly her father pulled his face from the shield of his fingers to regard her even more closely than he had before. Livna’s breath caught in her chest as she marveled at her own brashness, but he continued to study her carefully.

  “Yes,” he replied after several moments. “I think you should.”

  Fear spiraled down Livna’s spine. Making her bold request was one thing—actually having it granted was something else altogether! But the anxiety lining Father’s face seemed to ease, replaced by a new sharp light in his eyes.

  “You must go now,” he said. “Dress and prepare, just like the others.” He gestured to a servant at the nearest threshold. “See to it that my daughter is made ready for the presentation. Give her perfumes and fine robes. We may just have a chance.”

  With those words, he pushed to his feet and strode from the room, leaving Livna dazed in his wake.

  Chapter Five

  Had she heard him correctly? Livna’s ears buzzed, and her head seemed to be filled with fog.

  “Come, Princess, let’s get you back to your room.” The servant, a stout woman with commanding eyes and the armband of a senior handmaid, motioned for her to join the departing crowd.

  “He . . . he actually wants me at the presentation.”

  He said we just might have a chance—because of me?

  “Yes, Princess. Now hurry along. I will hunt for some suitable clothing and then rejoin you.”

  Livna forced her feet to comply so the servant would not think her dafter than she already appeared. Once safely back in her room, she paused at her small latticed window which overlooked the city. Dust rose in small clouds from the scurrying crowds, the day completely upended for most as they now rushed to prepare for the emperor’s arrival . . . even as Livna now must do. A tremulous smile stole over her lips at the memory of speaking to her father. She hardly knew what she hoped to accomplish tonight, but at least she had finally spoken up. She would live with that choice no matter the outcome.

  “Come away from the window, Princess.” The senior handmaid spoke from the doorway, drawing Livna’s attention back to the present. “We must prepare you for tonight.”

  Before Livna could blink twice, the handmaid and a bevy of her fellow servants led her to the center of her
room and began fluttering around her. They spent the next several hours drawing multiple baths of cold and hot water and of milk, pulling at her hair, rubbing oils and perfumes into her skin, and talking amongst themselves with such animation, she could hardly discern more than a word here and there.

  Her thoughts drifted off.

  The emperor’s arrival. The presentation.

  “We might just have a chance . . .”

  Livna closed her eyes, her brows knitting. If only she could see Oren! He would help her understand Father’s strange statement. He would assure her she had done the right thing then grumble until she laughed at all her worries as nonsense.

  But Oren would be with Stepmother of course.

  While drawing a steadying breath, Livna nearly coughed on the exotic scents filling her room. As the hours slipped past, her heart shriveled in dread at the prospect of being under the emperor’s scrutiny. Maybe she’d made a mistake in requesting this opportunity. Maybe she would simply hide in the background, keeping an eye on everyone around her.

  By the time her handmaids had finished applying cosmetics and perfumes and covered her in the richest robe she had ever worn, word came that the emperor had already arrived and wished to see the maidens of the United Tribes as soon as he finished his early meal.

  “So soon?” the servant behind Livna cried in a panicked tone. “We cannot have her ready in so little time! We still need to arrange her hair and hem the sash.”

  “Then leave her hair down,” the senior handmaid said with a wave of her hand. “It will set her apart from the others. Besides, her hair is so long, luxurious, and dark against her light skin.”

  “Even then, we can’t finish the sash, and we can’t send her out in such a loose robe, even if it is spun from silver and gold thread!”

  This debate escalated with no regard for Livna herself as she sat silently between them. She listened for nearly a minute before a pause in their deliberation allowed her to suggest, “If we need a sash, I may have something fine enough. It was my mother’s.”