A Touch of Poison

by Aaron Kite

  “Okay, so you be sure to let me know if there’s stuff you need that you don’t have, or can’t get access to. In a pinch, I should be able to find a way to smuggle what we need out of the castle. Out my window might work, depending on how fragile it is, though we’d probably have to coordinate a time or—”

  “Ah, there you are!” a familiar, cocky voice announced from somewhere behind them.

  Both of the girls stopped walking and turned to face Anifail, who was now standing directly between their two armoured escorts, not twenty feet away. The expression on his face was as self-satisfied as his tone had been.

  “You know, I wasn’t entirely sure I’d find you out here, Princess,” he said with a smile. “I mean, after all, you have so many friends and acquaintances that when it came time to look for you, I scarcely knew where to begin! Stroke of luck, finding you in the very first place I thought to try. I could have been wandering for days, knocking on doors, asking all your other friends if they’d seen you, or if—”

  “How’s the hand, Captain?” Gwen inquired sweetly.

  Anifail’s calm, easygoing smile fell away at that, and though he tried to keep his expression neutral, he wasn’t entirely able to keep his lip from pulling into a sneer. The muscles in his jaw clenched slightly, and Gwen noticed his right hand come up and touch the heavy bandage wrapped around his other hand.

  The burn she’d given him was probably still very painful. Gwen briefly wondered if enjoying that fact made her a bad person.

  “Lunch is being served, Princess. Supervised, of course, to ensure you don’t cause any more careless accidents of this nature,” he said, motioning with his bandaged hand. “I do appreciate your concern. It was quite painful, actually, and the pain has lingered for the past couple days. But then I spoke with your father about what would be happening these next few weeks, and some of the things we ended up discussing, well....” He gave her a wolfish grin. “I find it hurts much, much less now.”

  Gwen was unsure exactly what it was he was talking about, but it sounded fairly ominous.

  “Well, if you find it’s still bothering you, I’m sure she’d be more than happy to kiss it better, Captain,” Rhosyn said in almost the exact same, sweet voice Gwen had used.

  Anifail smiled patiently at that, and then turned and waved a gesture behind him, indicating the path leading back to the castle. “If you would please come along with me, Princess? I suspect your lunch is getting cold.”

  Gwen gave Anifail a flat stare, then turned to Rhosyn. The girls embraced one another, briefly.

  “We start getting ready tonight,” whispered Gwen. “Right away.”

  “Your window, every midnight. Drop a note, or whatever you need smuggled out,” Rhosyn whispered back.

  “I will. Be careful.”

  “You too.”

  And with that, Gwen turned away from her friend and began walking towards Anifail and her two watchdogs. She barely even acknowledged the three men as she walked past them, heading for the castle.

  It’d probably only take a couple of days to gather the necessary things, she mused, at which point they could be off and rid of her father for good. That meant hatching a plan for how she was going to get into his study, and fast. Everything hinged on her getting access to that pouch. Once that was done, they could pretty much leave right away. She’d be free, and her father’s plans would be in ruins.

  Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed something in Anifail’s expression, a kind of cheerful malice that was different than usual.

  It made Gwen suddenly wonder if it was already too late.

  Chapter 12

  That first night, at midnight, Gwen hadn’t been able to drop anything but a hastily scrawled note out her window for Rhosyn.

  “Well,” Gwen murmured quietly to herself, looking over the collection of things spread over her bedsheet, “I’m certainly making up for it tonight.”

  It had been harder than she’d thought, preparing for a one-way journey like this one. The first time she’d tried, she had ended up with a veritable mountain of things she’d wanted to bring with her. She’d included everything from riding outfits she had yet to grow into, all the way to a small collection of ceramic dolls that had once belonged to her mother, or so she’d been told.

  When she had looked at the first pile of stuff, she soon realized that bringing everything she wanted would not be practical at all. She’d have to leave a great deal of things behind, things that were precious to her. It had taken several long hours for her to completely understand and accept what that meant.

  Now, her collection of items consisted of three changes of plain, sturdy clothing, a cloak, two standard-issue daggers she’d ‘borrowed’ from the guard barracks, a large travel satchel, a small flint box, two waterskins, two heavy blankets, and a small wooden chest containing every necklace, bracelet, or potentially valuable piece of jewelry she’d ever been given. When properly rolled up and packed, everything fit snugly inside the travel satchel, and the whole thing looked as though it’d fit through her bedroom window without issue.

  Gwen looked around her bedroom at all the items that hadn’t ended up on the blanket. She knew it would be difficult saying goodbye to the rest of her things, some of which she’d never even dreamed she’d be parting with.

  And things were about to get even more difficult.

  She drew a deep, relaxing breath, glancing at her bedroom door apprehensively.

  Tonight, she had to see how hard it would be to steal the herbs from her father’s desk, and that meant sneaking down to her father’s study and rooting around for them. Of course, what made this difficult was the fact that she was expressly forbidden from entering Bryn’s study, and had been for years.

  If she got caught, she might not get into too much trouble. She wouldn’t be taking anything tonight, just verifying that there was indeed a leather pouch with a red cord sitting in her father’s study desk. However, if she was seen snooping around the king’s study, it would definitely rouse suspicion and make things harder for her later on.

  Gwen just had to confirm she’d have access to the pouch, so she’d know she could fetch it when the time was right. And, if all went well tonight, that time might be as soon as tomorrow evening.

  It all depended on her being able to get down to the study, verify everything she needed to know, get back up to her room, write a quick note, and then toss her bag of stuff outside the window, all of which had to be done by midnight if she was going to catch Rhosyn in time.

  Which meant she only had about an hour left.

  Gwen sighed. She’d stalled long enough.

  She gave her bedroom door another nervous glance, gathered up her courage, and took a deep breath. Then she pulled her door open and ventured through it.

  There was scant light illuminating the stairway, but Gwen found the darkness a little comforting. She’d prefer not to be seen at all, of course, but she knew it would be unavoidable once she got to the bottom of the stairs and into the main hallway. The castle staff she encountered might not think twice about seeing her roaming the hallways at this comparatively late hour though, since most of them hadn’t been working there for more than a couple of months anyways. Still, a stray piece of servant gossip making its way to Anifail might be enough to undo her whole plan, so the fewer people she ran in to, the better.

  Once at the bottom of the stairs, she peeked left and right down the hallway before proceeding into it, dark grey shawl wrapped to cover most of her light brown dressing gown. She had opted to go barefoot so she’d make less noise, and the cool stone of the floor made her want to shiver, despite the fact that the rest of her seemed unreasonably warm. Her stomach was a tight ball of worry, and her lungs felt like they weren’t getting enough air.

  Instead of heading straight to her father’s study by way of the library hallway, Gwen opted for a less-traveled rou
te near the inner courtyard garden, a trip that took her no more than a couple of minutes. Once there, she slipped through the courtyard door and into the blessedly dark, night air. Grass poked between her toes as she tip-toed across the lawn, heading for a similar entrance located clear on the other side.

  Gwen arrived at the arched doorway, and suddenly became aware of voices coming from the hallway on the other side of it. She side-stepped into a shadow cast by a nearby bush and froze in place, heart pounding in her chest.

  Two men, kitchen servants from the sound of it, walked the length of the hallway, discussing various tasks they’d be performing on the morrow. Gwen listened to them intently, tracking their progress down the hallway, past the courtyard door and beyond, alert for any sign they were aware of her.

  Once she could no longer hear them, she waited for another minute or so, and then carefully opened the door in front of her and poked her head beyond it, looking from side to side.

  Nobody there. So far, so good.

  She quickly entered the hallway and hurried down it, heading towards the study entrance. Her bare feet made light ‘pit-pat’ noises against the floor, despite how quiet she was trying to be. There was nobody else in sight however, so perhaps speed was more important than stealth at this point.

  Once in front of the study door, she took a few moments to gather herself and looked around for anyone who might have spotted her. Her heart was beating rather fast — half from the short run down the hall, and half from the risky nature of what she was in the middle of doing.

  Satisfied there was nobody else around, she gripped the door handle with a tentative hand and twisted the knob slowly. Once she could no longer turn it, she pressed her other palm against the side of the door and began to push with agonizing slowness.

  The well-oiled hinges didn’t make a sound as the door opened. Gwen crept in, her eyes wide and alert, taking in as many details as she could.

  His study had changed quite a lot since she’d last been in it. On her left there were now rows upon rows of animal heads and stuffed hawks mounted high up on the wall, as well as various different bows and spears mounted beneath them, each angled in a way that made their relationship with each animal fairly obvious. Far off to her right was a crackling fireplace, two high-backed chairs, a large throw-rug, a couple of end-tables, and a few landscape paintings dotting the walls here and there. Her father’s desk was directly opposite her, along the far wall, sitting beside a bookshelf and a few other strange pieces of furniture she didn’t recognize at first glance.

  Gwen very carefully eased the door shut behind her, stopping it just before it completely closed. Then she breathed a quiet sigh of relief, which caused her to realize she’d been holding her breath.

  Forcing herself to relax, she slowly walked across the rug-covered floor to her father’s desk and crouched down beside his chair, directly in front of the drawer he’d described to Anifail that day in her room. Her hand reached out to wrap around the tarnished brass handle.

  “Wave Dancer,” she heard her father’s voice announce in a loud, clear voice, as if having arrived at a decision.

  Gwen froze, heart in her throat, her hand mere inches from the drawer handle.

  “Seriously?” Anifail’s voice replied, giving a good-natured snort of derision. “If you like that one, why not Queen of the Sea? Or even Floating Cliché?”

  “Come on, it’s not that bad a name for a boat,” her father laughed, slurring his words the tiniest bit.

  Within moments Gwen understood, and it was like forgetting how to breathe.

  They were both in the study. With her.

  Anifail and her father were both sitting not fifteen feet away from her in their high-backed chairs, facing the fireplace.

  She’d never considered they might be in the study this late, and hadn’t even thought to check.

  Panicking, Gwen scrambled past the chair and underneath the desk, hoping the shadowy recess would hide her well enough not to be discovered. After a moment’s thought, she also grabbed the desk chair by its legs and carefully pulled it towards her for extra cover. Then she curled herself into as tight a ball as she could and huddled into her corner, trying to stay as quiet as possible.

  There were no sounds at all for several minutes, save for the gentle popping of burning wood from the fireplace. Each passing second seemed to multiply Gwen’s anxiousness.

  “Where did I go wrong, Anifail?” Bryn asked in a quiet, wistful voice.

  “Sorry?”

  “With Gwenwyn, I mean. What should I have done differently? Could I have done anything differently? She’s so willful, and with everything else I’m trying to arrange, having to deal with her all the time is...it’s frustrating.”

  There was a lengthy pause. A bit mystified, Gwen tilted her head slightly so she might hear better.

  “Honestly, I don’t think you could have done anything differently. You were consistent, and you were firm. Disciplining her yourself was dangerous, and yet you managed to bring her to heel often enough, willful or no. I’ve known fathers who aren’t a tenth of the man you are, and yet they can make their own children quake in fear with nothing more than a look, or a gesture. I suspect the fault lies with her.” Gwen heard Anifail exhale through his nose and take a long drink of something. “I share your pain, though; it’s frustrating for me as well. Every day, I get the same old cheek, like she thinks it’s some sort of game. It’s as if she’s always just sort of assumed she could talk to me like I was some sort of servant. Nobody talks to me like she does, nobody.”

  “I know, I know. She’s got too much of her mother in her, unfortunately, and I’m sure you remember what she was like,” said Bryn, pausing long enough to take a drink of his own. “You’ll have your chance to level things out on that score eventually, never you fear.”

  Gwen didn’t like the sound of that one bit.

  Anifail snorted. “It can’t happen soon enough. Still, it’s only a couple of weeks away. It seems like it’s taken us forever to get here.”

  “Aye,” said Bryn. “It’s been a long road, but we’re almost there, Captain.”

  “To Prince Gavin of Rhegar,” said Anifail.

  “To my future son-in-law. May he rest in peace,” agreed Bryn.

  Gwen heard the soft clink of two glasses touching.

  For the next five minutes or so there was no conversation from either of them, no sound at all except for the occasional crackle from the fire. Still huddled under the desk, Gwen realized a few things about her predicament.

  She’d left the study door open a crack, which meant she’d have to leave while both Anifail and her father were still in the room. If they moved to leave and discovered a partially opened door, their suspicions would surely be roused.

  There was also a time limit — she needed to get out of the study and back to her room in time to drop her travel gear, along with a note. And she couldn’t very well do that without first checking the drawer for that bag of chi’darro, which was the whole reason why she’d come down here in the first place.

  She sat there, curled up in a tight little ball under the desk, waiting, becoming more anxious with every passing moment. Eventually she realized that regardless of how frightening the prospect was, she needed to do something.

  Well, there was the drawer. Gwen was still mostly hidden from view where she was huddled, but she could probably get the bottom drawer open without making too much noise. She’d open it, check for the leather pouch her father mentioned, and then close it, all as slowly and carefully as possible.

  Gwen reached out from her shadowy alcove and laid a few tentative fingers atop the edge of the drawer. Then, just as she was about to slide the drawer open, she realized it might be a better idea to wait until Anifail or her father was talking, so that their conversation would mask any noise she might accidentally make.

  Hand poised
and ready, resting along the side of the drawer, she waited for her moment.

  Minutes passed.

  “Say, did you ever hear from that fellow about the bunting for the inside balconies? Weren’t we—”

  Gwen pushed the drawer open, quietly, only half-listening to the words her father was saying. Once she’d opened it a hands-breadth, she leaned forward to peek inside.

  A dark brown leather pouch tied off with red cord was sitting inside, atop some papers and old inkwells. It was about the size of her fist and looked to be fairly full, which meant it was probably more than enough to sustain her during her trip.

  Her father was still talking, she noticed, so she slid the drawer shut, an action that produced the barest whisper of wood sliding against wood. As soon as it was done, she pulled her hand back.

  The sound of her father’s voice cut off the precise moment she did so.

  Had he seen her hand just now, or heard the drawer close? It sort of sounded like her father finished his last sentence, but Gwen hadn’t really been listening to what he was saying.

  She sat there amid the painful silence, anxiously waiting for the next words to be spoken.

  “Oh, do you mean the fellow with that green and yellow fabric? Or are you talking about the one from out of town?” Anifail asked. Gwen heard him move in his chair, and could also make out the shuffling of papers. “I think we might be further ahead to go with the local fellow, for obvious reasons.”

  She allowed herself a quiet breath, relieved.

  “True, we can always tax him later, which is almost like getting a discount,” Bryn agreed. “However, I’m not sure I liked the pattern as much. What if we—”

  Gwen didn’t even stop to think; she knew this was her moment. As her father spoke, she pushed the chair away from her with agonizing slowness, and then scooted around it on all fours, alert for any sort of sound she might be making as she did. Then she slowly got to her feet and tiptoed out from under the desk, making her way over to the study door, her eyes locked on the two high-backed chairs next to the fireplace. She could make out her father’s hand resting on a chair arm, idly swirling the pink-amber contents of a brandy snifter as he spoke.