009 – Suitor Part V
Adrienne fights for her life, as Cassius fights his conscience.
Suddenly, Adrienne began to wheeze. She put her hands to her throat. Each breath sounded like it hurt. Then she coughed, and bloody froth dribbled from the side of her mouth. Cassius could see the whites of her wide eyes.
Beold looked at her in horror. Cassius looked at Valentin. What have you done?
Without missing a beat, Valentin stood, his chair clattering backwards. He pushed aside the trestle between him and Adrienne, and it collapsed, sending diners fleeing and tables clattering to the ground. He knelt beside her as she wheezed and scrabbled at her throat, her eyes showing whites. “Take her to her room,” he said tersely, and retainers hurried to carry the stricken empress.
As if his action had woken them from a trance, the Caithese sprang into action around their prince, lifting him and carrying him away toward the family wing. Valentin, with some show, picked up Adrienne’s glass and sipped the honeywine. Somebody gasped at his daring. He winced and spat it out.
“Could you determine the poison?” asked one of the nobles.
Valentin assumed a deeply thoughtful look. “Laurel water, I think,” he said. As a distressed murmur circled the room, Valentin made eye contact with Cassius for the first time and jerked his head. He jogged through the halls as Cassius struggled to catch up.
“Laurel water?” he said.
Valentin didn’t look back. “Nux vomica. I have the antidote.”
“What’s that?”
Increasing his speed, Valentin said, “Hemlock.”
“Blessed few.”
“I’m protecting you too.”
“And Llewellyn?”
Now Valentin stopped and turned around, giving Cassius an impatient scowl. “I don’t have time for this right now.” He struck away down the corridor again. Cassius stood, shifting his weight, glaring after Valentin. Then he jogged down after him.
The Empress room was already redolent of incense and sickness. Valentin hurried to her side and spoke briefly with the physician hovering near the head of the bed.
“It is my own personal Tincture Against Poisoning,” he was saying earnestly, “mixed, you know, by the great Ben-Sena. I take it daily, of course.” He lowered his voice and seemed to be counting dosages on his fingers. The physician nodded several times and turned, phial in hand, to his struggling patient.
As Valentin crouched by the bed, the physician managed to get a sip of the hemlock down her throat. Cassius felt as if his skin were contracting around his bones. As Valentin held her shoulders, the physician washed it down with warm water. He waited a moment, looked at Valentin, who nodded, then they repeated the process. After about ten minutes of miniscule doses of hemlock followed by water, Cassius thought he could detect a diminution in the severity of Adrienne’s spasms.
His bottom lip unconsciously tugged between his teeth, Valentin gestured to the physician, who set down the phial. He looked at Cassius, his face a white mask. “The spasms are abating for now,” he said. “The Tincture is working.”
Cassius turned on his heel and left the sick room. He shut the door of his own suite with exhausted relief, and leaned against the wall, eyes closed.
“Prince Cassius,” said a quiet voice.
Without opening his eyes, Cassius said, “Llewellyn.” He pushed away from the wall and opened the door to summon a servant to fetch Captain Ennius.
When he turned back, Llewellyn was standing close to Cassius’ bed, as if he might dive behind the drapes if they were disturbed.
“Is the Empress all right?”
“Valentin seems to think she will live.” Cassius kept his tone curt.
Llewellyn nodded.
“I won’t even ask how you managed to be in a position to poison Beold’s cup.”
“The White Prince has his own cupbearer, but Beold is served with the rest of the table,” said Llewellyn, keeping his post near the bed.
“And what if you were recognised as one of the Empress’ party?”
Llewellyn’s response was a raised and lowered shoulder. He met and caught Cassius’ gaze, and Cassius felt warmth shiver up his back. He turned and went to the window, staring stonily out at the faint sentry lights on the wall.
Captain Ennius entered with a knock. Turning, Cassius said, “I need you to take Llewellyn and make him disappear. He must be on the ship when we return to Jovan, but nobody can hear a whisper of him until then. There may be a search for a boy matching his description. It is imperative that he not be found. By your loyalty to Lord Valentin, to the Empress, and to Jovan itself, I ask you to do this and tell nobody of it.”
Whatever he might think about these instructions, Ennius said, “Yes, Lord Cassius,” and gestured to Llewellyn, who cast Cassius one short look over his shoulder as Ennius escorted him out.
When the goosebumps had faded from his skin and his breath felt less like a panicked gasp, Cassius returned to Adrienne’s room. Valentin and the physician still kept their vigil at the head of the bed. Cassius went to the physician and said, “How is she?”
“She lives,” he said. “Lord Valentin’s Tincture Against Poisoning gives her enough relief from the spasms that she does not exhaust herself.”
“Mm,” said Cassius.
“If we can nurse her through the first day, she will most likely recover.”
“Any word of Prince Beold?”
Valentin looked up from his intent examination of Adrienne’s face. “The Red Prince has succumbed to the poisoner.”
“I see.”
“I’m sorry, Cassius. It must be difficult to lose your cousin so soon after you met him.”
“Yes. I must go and comfort my mother. You will come and find me if the Empress’ condition changes?”
“Of course.” Valentin’s attention was no longer on him.
Unlike the hallway to the Empress’ quarters, which bustled with people carrying hot water, linens and news, the hallways to Prince Beold’s room was empty except for one slow-moving servant, too distracted with grief to even notice Cassius’ approach.
He found Prince Varen and Princess Leyse in a small anteroom. They sat side-by-side on a bench, Varen half-leaning on Leyse as she stroked his hair. Now was not the time, but Cassius still felt briefly jealous to see Leyse bestowing that motherly gesture on Varen. They were slow to respond to Cassius’ entrance. Varen stood and gestured Cassius over. “You will have heard that our cousin is dead.”
“Yes.” What did one say in Caith’il Deran when someone died? “I am sorry.”
“How fares the Empress?”
“She clings to life. She had less of the cursed wine than Prince Beold. Any word of the poisoner?”
“There was a new boy at table who slipped the laurel water into Beold’s cup. But the cowardly creature has gone to ground. Nonetheless, we will flush him out.”
“Have you any idea who was behind it?”
“There are some dissident groups ion Caith’il Deran,” said Varen, rubbing his eyes. “Or perhaps some personal enemy of Beold’s. We will hunt down the poisoner and unravel the conspiracy. I am so sorry your Empress was also a victim. We were getting on so well.”
“You understand that if Adrienne makes it through the night we will take her back to Jovan as quickly as may be.”
Inclining his head, Varen said, “Of course. But I beg you, don’t endanger her health further in your haste.”
Cassius acknowledged this point. “Do you mind if I sit here with you for a while?” he said.
Wordlessly, Leyse patted the bench beside her and Cassius sat, leaning his cheek against her shoulder. He breathed the thick, perfumed scent of her flyaway hair.
In the dark hours of the morning Cassius made his way back to his room. A servant had told him Adrienne still clung to life, but he couldn’t face returning to her chamber. Bare minutes after he returned, Valentin knocked on the door and opened it. He looked exhausted: white and drawn, with a fine trembling around his mouth.
“The physician is now confident that she will live,” he said.
Without a word, Cassius shut the door in his brother’s face.
A week passed. Beold’s funeral was held, Adrienne recovered somewhat, and Prince Varen faithfully gave Cassius daily updates on his progress hunting the poisoner. Despite Cassius’ near-constant fear for Llewellyn, Ennius appeared to be doing his job. Beside rumours, Varen found no trace of the curly-haired assassin. Cassius could only be grateful.
Eventually, it was time to leave Caith’il Deran. Cassius watched from the deck of the Lady Kyria as Adrienne was carried aboard in a heavily cushioned litter.
Captain Ennius marched on with his troop, giving Cassius a salute as he passed. Valentin boarded, immaculately turned-out and cool as a mountain spring. Cassius turned away, and Valentin continued past him into the cabin.
Princess Leyse had come to see Cassius earlier, expressing her regret that his first trip to her homeland had ended thus. Taking her hands and kissing them, Cassius had wondered whether he would ever see her again.
As the sailors cast off, Cassius went into the cabin and sat by Adrienne’s bedside and tried to convince himself that they had just saved her—and Jovan—from a disastrous Papirian plot. It didn’t lighten the feeling of lead in his belly.