The Beauty of Darkness - Mary E. Pearson Page 0,140

stopped in front of me, I grabbed his shoulder, forcing him to his knees. “What is wrong with my father?” I asked.

“His heart, Your Highness! As the Chancellor said!” he answered quickly, his tone high and earnest. “But his other ailments are many! It is a tricky thing, treating so many conditions. It will take time, but I have the highest hopes for his recovery.”

I smiled. “Really. That is reassuring, Lord Fently.” I nodded to Pauline, and she opened the box. “And these are some of the medicines you’re treating him with?”

“Yes!” he said, his tone thick with pleading. “These are only simple remedies to make him more comfortable!”

I reached in and pulled out a small bottle of dark amber elixir. “This?”

“Only to ease aches and pains.”

My fingers fumbled, stiff and tingling, to remove the cork with my injured hand. The effort of twisting it free made blood gush warm again beneath the bandage. I sniffed the bottle. “For pain? I could use some of this.” I took a hearty swig and shrugged. “There, now. I think I’m feeling better already.”

He smiled, his face a strained smear of anguish and fear. I put the elixir back and drew another bottle, this one filled with creamy white liquid. “And just how does this one help my father?”

“His stomach, Your Highness! It helps settle it.”

I held the bottle up, swishing it in the light, then took a drink. I smiled. “Yes, I remember this from my childhood.” I leveled a glare at the Royal Scholar. “I often suffered from stomachaches.”

I put it back and shuffled through the box, then drew out the small vial filled with golden powder. “And this one?”

He swallowed. His skin was pasty, and a bead of sweat trickled near his ear. A half smile rippled across his lips. “It is for agitation. Just to calm jittery nerves.”

“Jittery nerves,” I repeated. “Well, I guess you can all see, I certainly have those.” I pulled the cork, began to lift it to my mouth, and hesitated. “Does it matter how much I take?”

“No,” he said, a measure of relief finally reaching his eyes. “You may take as much as you like.”

I lifted it to my lips again. He watched me, his mouth hanging open, waiting for me to take a hefty dose, as I had with the others. I paused and returned his earnest attention. “It seems, Lord Fently, that you’re in need of this far more than I am. Here, take some.”

I moved it toward his lips, and he quickly turned his head away. “No, I don’t need any.”

“But I insist.”

“No!”

He jerked away, but I drew the knife from my boot and held it to his neck. “See how jittery you are, my lord?” I lowered my voice to a growl. “I insist you take some. Now.” My knife pressed harder against his throat, and lords gasped as a thin line of blood sprang up beneath the blade. I brought the golden vial slowly to his lips. “Remember,” I whispered, “you may take as much as you like.”

The glass brushed his lower lip. “No!” he cried, his eyes glazed with terror. “It’s him! He’s the one who gave it to me! It was by his order!”

He pointed at the Viceregent.

I lowered the knife, pushing the physician free. Silence crushed in as all eyes turned to the favored cabinet member. I smiled at the Viceregent. “Thannis,” I said. “Good for the soul. Good for the heart. A unique token found only in Venda. Something an ambassador such as yourself probably discovered years ago on one of your clandestine visits.” I walked toward him. “Perfectly deadly, but a few tiny grains? They might be just enough to keep a king out of the way while you finalized your plans—because if he died, there were so many of those troublesome princes in line for the throne who might appoint a new cabinet.”

The Viceregent stood. “The man’s a liar. I’ve never laid eyes on the substance before.”

A voice called from the back of the hall. “Then how do you explain this?” Footsteps echoed, boots on stone, a slow beat that demanded attention.

Heads turned. Breaths were held for only a moment, then hushed whispers erupted into the air like a startled flock of birds. There was something about him. Something familiar—but foreign too. Something that didn’t belong. They quieted again as Kaden walked down the center aisle toward us, another golden vial in his hand. “I found this in your apartment, tucked in a