Captive and Crowned

by Elizabeth Newsom

  He snapped his fingers. “Manasseh! That’s it. That’s why I can’t remember.” His gaze flew to her. “Did you poison me?”

  “You asked me to.”

  He sucked in a startled breath, then released a harsh cough. Were he eating, she suspected he might have choked. “Why would I ever do that?”

  Evelyn patted the bench beside her. “I’ll catch you up on what happened.”

  He regarded the bench warily before seating himself, keeping a few inches between them.

  She chuckled. “What? Scared I’ll seduce you?”

  To her delight, more color suffused his cheeks. “You’re incredibly forthright for a queen.”

  “As are you for a duke.”

  He nodded. “Fair enough. As you were saying?”

  She began her recollection at the Council meeting and ended with pouring Manasseh into his mouth.

  “Then… will you trust me?”

  “I still don’t completely understand you, but I think you honestly want to help me.”

  “We’re on the same page then.” He pointed to the vial. “If you’d like to escape, then that is your ticket out.”

  “How, exactly?”

  “You’ll need to poison the King and take his seal. He keeps the metal seal embedded on a leather strip around his wrist. Then you need to forge a command using his seal, requesting that your guards be replaced.”

  “But… why? Couldn’t we just poison my guards?”

  He shook his head. “You’ll need entirely new guards who are on our side to buy us enough time to escape. It’d be difficult to poison both of your guards at once, anyhow.

  “Before you forge the document, I’ll provide you with new guards, who are actually mercenaries hired to do my bidding. I’ll send a letter to the King, using the Silvan seal, so he’ll think the mercenaries are, in reality, knights sent as a gift from Silva.”

  “How will you fake the seal?”

  He held up a signet ring. “I’m from Silva. Duke Braxton is my father, and he rules Silva, so I needn’t fake a seal. I have one.”

  Wow. Duke Draven was even more powerful than she’d anticipated. “Then what?”

  “Then, while the guards act as if nothing is amiss, we use the secret passages and escape Octavya.”

  “Octavya?”

  “Yes, the city. If anyone tries to enter your room, the guards will tell them that you’re indisposed. By the time your absence is discovered, we will be beyond their grasp.”

  “So how do I poison the King?”

  He shrugged.

  “How am I supposed to do it if you don’t know how?”

  “Gain his trust and put it in his food, his drink. Anything.”

  Gain his trust. Like that would happen. “Fine, I’ll figure it out. So where’s this secret passage?”

  He pulled a silver key out of his breast pocket. “Next to your wardrobe, look carefully and you’ll find a keyhole.”

  This entire time she’d been looking for secret passages, and there happened to be one in her room. “That’s convenient.”

  “There are passages all over the king’s room and the queen’s room—for escape routes, sneaking down to see lovers, late night snacks. But as I was saying: if you go down the passage eight levels, you’ll find my room. From my room, there’s a passage into the city.”

  “So when do we make this grand escape?”

  “Keziah sixteenth. It’s Mariposa, the day after the Blue Moon Festival. Your fairies-in-waiting will be off the entire day to celebrate their little holiday, giving you a window of escape.”

  “That doesn’t really help. I don’t know what Keziah sixteenth means or Mariposa.”

  Draven sighed. “I see your point. Each month has thirty days, and today is Livzen twenty-ninth. Keziah is the next month, leaving us with seventeen days as of today.”

  Wow. He’d put a lot of thought into this. It seemed it was only a matter of time before her dream became reality. She rubbed her thumb across the smooth surface of the vial. But she had one more concern. “Draven?”

  “Hmm?”

  “Do you think the assassins will get to me before we escape?”

  The question seemed to startle him. “Pardon?”

  “The assassins. I think they’re called Scorpions.”

  “Scorpio. And why would you ever think that? You’re well-protected.”

  “One nearly drowned me on my wedding night, after you left me in the gardens.” She scanned the gardens once more. It was as tranquil and still as before she’d fallen asleep.

  His jaw firmed. “Is that so?”

  She nodded. “So who are they? Why are they trying to kill me?”

  “The Scorpio is a criminal organization, ruled by a ring of crime lords. Their leader’s name is Sephtis, Master of Poisons. As to why, I can only speculate. Perhaps to cause anarchy? Or because you’re a Hybrid? No one really knows. Any other questions?”

  She shook her head and rose. “I think that’s pretty much it. I’d better go find Adria, so she can help me get ready for dinner. The fairies are great and all, but sometimes they struggle to lace up my dresses.”

  Duke Draven’s lips twisted in dissatisfaction. “Yes, that sounds like Adria.”

  “You recommended her, didn’t you?”

  He rose to his feet. “I did.”

  “If you knew that she was like that, why’d you recommend her?”

  “Let’s just say I owed someone a favor, and that was the price I had to pay.” He bowed deeply. “Good day, Evelyn. Make good use of my gift.” He pivoted and strode into the garden.

  Evelyn plucked the circlet from the bench. Duke Draven’s motivations were still a mystery, but she didn’t have many options.

  Evelyn closed her eyes, saw the blurred picture of her mother in her mind’s Room, the glass of the frame still webbed with cracks. “Mom, I’m coming back.”

  Though they didn’t find Adria, the fairies managed to lace up her emerald evening gown with a square neckline. Once she’d escaped, she’d likely miss the gowns. They were often one jewel-toned color and the skirts of the dresses glided along her legs, without any fluff underneath to make it pretentiously large. They were simple and elegant enough to be appropriate at a medieval reenactment or a modern gala.

  The fairies transformed Evelyn’s beflowered braid into a scalp-straining updo. With her cheeks lightly sunburnt, the fairies hadn’t bothered adding blush. Evelyn perched on the edge of the vanity seat, the gown draped elegantly over her legs. And she waited for the King.

  From this point on, her performance must be flawless. She didn’t have to be obsequious, but she would conduct herself with the poise and dignity expected of a queen, giving him no further opportunities to suspect her.

  Dinnertime came and went. A half-hour later, the sun tiptoed above the horizon.

  Could the King have gone to dinner without her? He’d escorted her before, but maybe now that she knew her way around, she was supposed to escort herself.

  Camellia was chattering to Zinnia, who was sprawled across the top of the mirror frame, one arm tossed dramatically over her face. Zinnia obviously didn’t want to talk, but that didn’t stop Camellia from gushing about the handsome new Silvan knights she’d seen.

  Evelyn’s ears perked up at the word. Silvan? Could those be the ones Draven had hired? She’d have to work quickly to have her current guards replaced by the mercenaries. Maybe she’d find an opportunity to poison the King at dinner… if they were even going to have dinner.

  Clover sat on the edge of the bedframe, kicking her feet against the wood and swinging them outward.

  “Clover, am I supposed to go to the dining room on my own?”

  Clover shook her head. “Etiquette dictates the King should come and escort you.”

  Evelyn rose. “Maybe he forgot.” She ignored the sudden twist in her chest and flipped a dismissive hand at the fairies. “Y’all can leave, if you want.”

  Zinnia sat up to snigger. “You sound like
such a human when you say that.”

  Evelyn resisted the urge to roll her eyes and tell her that only some humans spoke English, much less used the word “y’all”. But if she wanted to sound more queenly, she probably should drop the word.

  Clover massaged her temples, but didn’t snap at Zinnia. “You’re certain, Your Majesty?”

  Evelyn nodded. “Positive. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  Zinnia was the first to zip out of the room with Camellia and Clover fluttering behind her in a statelier manner.

  After a few seconds, Evelyn emerged into the hallway. She’d check the dining room first, then his room. A serving woman strode past her, her elegant, almost regal stride and posture at odds with the submissive tilt of her head. She held a golden goblet, armored in jewels. The King’s Goblet. Liquid swished softly inside.

  “Excuse me?”

  The woman jerked to a halt, as if yanked by a puppeteer’s hand.

  Evelyn walked to her. “Is that for the King? Is the King still in his room?”

  The serving woman nodded. “Yes, Your Majesty. Last I saw, he was reading papers. But I didn’t look at any, mind you.”

  “Of course not.” Evelyn peered into the goblet. Draven had said the Manasseh was tasteless, hadn’t he? “As the queen, I will perform the honor of giving the King’s Goblet to him.”

  Without question, the servant strode to her and extended her arms as she offered the goblet.

  Evelyn picked it up with both hands and nearly sent it crashing to the floor. It was heavy. “Thank you.”

  The servant dipped into an elegant curtsey. Then she strode back the way she came.

  Evelyn turned and nearly startled at the sight of the two knights, standing on either side of her door. They were so still and quiet. If it weren’t for the shifting glimmer on their breastplates, revealing the soft rise and fall of their chests, they could have been statues.

  Evelyn smiled at them. “Could you guys please open the door? My hands are full.”

  One of the knights opened the door and shut it behind her after she passed through.

  Evelyn set the goblet on her vanity, and the liquid sloshed inside. She scanned the room, ensuring no fairy had been left behind. Her gaze snagged on silver glinting on the carpet. Had one of the fairies dropped something? A coin perhaps? She’d investigate later, once she’d delivered the King’s specially prepared drink.

  She knelt on the ground and peered underneath the vanity. The vial of poison lay nestled in the corner. She’d taken it out of her dress and hid it there before the fairies had come. She hadn’t wanted them to become suspicious if they saw an oddly shaped bulge beneath her chemise. Evelyn drew it out before standing and uncorking it.

  She dribbled the blue-purple liquid into whatever dark, spicy drink the goblet held. She pushed the cork back onto the vial and returned the poison to its place. Her hands were so clammy she was surprised she didn’t drop it.

  Evelyn picked the goblet up, wrapping both of her hands around its thick stem. Thanks to her trembling, ripples ricocheted across the liquid’s surface. She spent a few minutes breathing deeply until she calmed. Then she walked to the King’s door in her room, balanced the goblet on her knee, and opened it.

  The King twisted in his seat, his gaze falling on her. He’d placed his crown on his desk. She’d never seen his hair so dark and unhindered by the heavy metal.

  She stepped into the room. “I brought you your drink.” The large furniture in his room made her feel small. Or maybe that was the King.

  His eyes never left hers. “How kind of you.” She approached, and he wrapped his fingers around hers, lifted the goblet from her grasp, and set it onto the desk. “But what’s the real reason you’ve come?”

  Her chest filled with a shallow breath. “Since you haven’t come to my room to escort me, I figured I’d come to yours.”

  His eyes widened. “Dinner. Yes.” He glanced at the setting sun through a window, then at the sheaves of blue-tinted paper blanketing his desk like a pale ocean. “Half an hour. In half an hour, I promise I’ll be there to escort you.”

  Not if he drank from his goblet. She winked. “I’ll hold you to it.”

  He seemed taken aback, and she buried a grimace. Too friendly too soon.

  “See you then.” She turned and hurried back into her room, hoping the poison would do its job better than she’d done hers.

  An hour later, the King still hadn’t appeared to take her to dinner. She finally worked up the courage to crack his door open and peer inside. He was hunched over his desk, his cheek pressed to its surface, his wings lax at his side.

  The poison had worked.

  She tiptoed into his room, thankful marble didn’t creak. Of course, it wouldn’t have mattered if it did. Since he’d drunk the poison, nothing would be able to wake him up for hours. When she’d reached his side, he hadn’t even stirred. The goblet was on the side of his desk, appearing untouched. But it only took a single drop.

  The leather bracelet on his wrist drew her gaze. On one side, a faint word had been scratched into the leather and a metal imprint clung to the other side. The seal.

  She leaned over the desk to glance at his expression. He was completely motionless. His tousled hair fell softly over his forehead. His lips were parted as his chest rose and fell. Weariness lined his face. At least the poison had given him a chance to rest.

  She lined her fingers along the bracelet’s edge, then hesitated. Nothing could wake the King for a few hours. She was safe. Evelyn tugged the band, and it squeezed over his hand and bunched around his knuckles. She yanked again. It was almost—

  A hand seized her wrist. Fear constricted her throat, choking down a scream.

  The King’s eyes blazed as he stood.

  Her heart smashed against her ribcage. He wasn’t supposed to be awake. He must have simply fallen asleep while working instead of drinking the poison.

  “What are you doing?” he said.

  “I–I—”

  He yanked her wrist toward him, drawing her closer and forcing her to crane her neck to see him. “Speak!”

  She forced the words past her tight throat. “I–I wanted to see why you hadn’t come to dinner.”

  The anger in his eyes didn’t cool. He lifted his wrist in front of her face. “And what were you doing with this?”

  A shudder gripped her body. She could barely think past the panic gripping her. What would he do? Torture her? Imprison her?

  His grip tightened on her wrist.

  “I s–saw a name on it. I wanted to–to—” To her horror, hot tears flooded her eyes. To her father, tears had always been an object of ridicule.

  The King’s expression softened slightly. “To read it?”

  She forced her head up higher, willing her tears not to fall, and nodded.

  He lifted his free hand, as if to touch her, then lowered it. “I see.” He released her wrist and combed his hand through his hair. For once, she saw the seventy-nine years of his life within his eyes. Otherwise, he could have easily appeared to be in his early twenties. “Forgive me.”

  A delayed wave of shock rippled down her body. He was apologizing?

  “I didn’t mean to keep you from your meal,” he said. “You’re welcome to go to dinner if you so wish. I’ll remain here.” He glanced at his desk, strewn with paper, and his brow crumpled with exhaustion. “There is work to be done yet.”

  He’d forgotten her. Twice. By all means, she should be angry or offended—not sympathetic. “You really care about Torva, huh?”

  “I do. I would sacrifice anything for the kingdom.”

  She sighed. “Even my freedom.”

  “I did what was necessary, Evelyn. But if it helps, I am sorry for the price you’ve been forced to pay on my kingdom’s behalf.”

  To be fair, he was just trying to help his people. It was just unfortunate that their goals were so opposed to each other. But there was no use in saying so, especially since she was trying to be a mor
e agreeable queen.

  “Of course.” She smiled and placed a hand on his arm.

  His muscles clenched beneath her touch before he ripped away from her.

  Why the sudden reaction? Because he knew she was acting? She didn’t think so. If he was suspicious, a lift of his eyebrows would have easily communicated that. His expression was tense, even slightly pale. Was he afraid? Of her? Of her touching him?

  “Good eve.” He sat back down and bent over the desk, not sparing her another glance.

  As she walked to her room, she glanced back. His hands hadn’t moved to pick up the quill, and his gaze still lingered on the same spot of the page. He wasn’t working; he was just waiting for her to leave.

  Ouch.

  If he found her touch so repulsive, it made her wonder whether or not he’d ever wanted her as a wife in full. Maybe on both their wedding nights when he’d encouraged their separation, he’d used chivalry as a guise for his disgust.

  She shut the door behind her. Now what? So far, the King hadn’t drunk from anything she’d given him, possibly because he suspected her of tampering with it. How was she going to poison him?

  Evelyn paced back and forth across the marble floor. Could she go to the dining room before him and poison his food? Could she sneak into his room and dribble it into his mouth as he slept?

  Something sparkled in the carpet, and she slowed as she neared it. She’d almost forgotten about seeing it on the way in. She was certain whatever was there now hadn’t been there this morning. If it was a coin, maybe she could use it to help her escape. She’d need money once she was out of the palace.

  Her feet sank into the plush carpet. After a few steps, she froze. It wasn’t only that particular spot that glittered. Silver threads crisscrossed the entire rug, forming little diamonds of space. Her gaze followed the threads to the edge of the rug, where they twisted together into a diaphanous strand that ran along the wall to the ceiling. There were three other strands like that one, and finally she realized what the glittering threads were.

  A netted snare. Someone had set a trap for her in her own room.