Evangeline rose, and Sable remained where she was as Evangeline retired to her bedchambers alone. Sable waited a few minutes before finally daring to leave. Evangeline may feel like all children are pawns, but Sable could not agree. She was no pawn to Christof’s plan. She was a dominant player in her own right, and Christof was going to praise her name to all of the God’s when he received this new updated information.
CHAPTER TEN
C hristof emerged from the trees only after watching Sable for a time. He had received her message, but there was little chance of him merely taking her for her word this time. Her knowledge, what she alluded to knowing, was too valuable just to accept. He had questions and needed to see Sable to ensure she remained loyal. His people had warned him against it, and still, he had come to meet her in person to discuss what she had learned of recently.
The location was not far from Braykith. Sable’s time was being watched, and there was a risk for her as well should they be found together. Christof had arrived early deliberately to scope out the open space in the wood. He needed to ensure that she had not been followed, or if this had been a trap set for him. Yvonne seemed quick to doubt Sable that most, but Christof remained on the side of open caution. As the hour came to pass, he reminded himself that he needed to trust Sable’s strategies. With no trust, then she was useless to him as a spy. If her letters were honest, then her plan had brought her closer to the royal family than any other planted by the rebellion. There was no time to waste with implanting another within the castle grounds, and little hope of getting one so close to the royal family. Christof felt an urgency to expand on his newfound momentum as rebel chieftain.
“Sable. Sorry for the delay.” He raised a hand in greeting, the papers in his hand moving with the gesture. Christof showed her the notes that she had sent, and he had kept. He had been obsessing over the vital intelligence she continued to feed him via messenger. “Are you really so close to Evangeline?” He asked her immediately, barely bothering with small talk as he pointed to her evidence. “When you had first written to me, I could hardly believe it, and now that your information continues to flow, I admit that I had no choice but to see you in person and confirm it for myself.”
Seeing her now, Christof believed every word to be true. Her hair seemed more golden than before and set in a particular ringlet style that he could never replicate on his own and doubted she could do so in a small shack with minimal accessories to pull off such a tight curl. Red paint stained her lips delicately, adding a minimal blush of colour to her mouth that seemed natural yet beautiful. Of all the smaller details he noticed, Christof’s eyes dragged from one point of her face to another before taking it all in. It was the dress that labelled her as belonging to the crown. Christof hoped her heart still belonged to the cause.
“Closer than we even imagined being possible.” Sable smiled, proud of her work and glad to see that she still had Christof’s trust. Sable was not entirely confident that Christof would risk himself at their get together, even if his letter had been the one who insisted on such a meeting. It would have been safer if he sent a messenger and Sable would not have argued on the precautions. Having him stand before her had to mean that there was more trust than Sable had guessed at. “Quintus is planning to come to Crimah with a large force in about fourteen days.” She sobered instantly as she relayed the news.
Her statement did not faze him, and Christof barely paused to find breath before he was asking his question. “How many men?”
“Not his entire army.” Sable did not have exact numbers since her information was relayed gossip, but she trusted enough repeated news to make an accurate prediction for Christof. “Those that he is taking to represent his army will be to slow, but it is more than sufficient to overwhelm our numbers.” Sable bit her bottom lip, wishing she could offer more information. “Quintus himself is leading the charge.” Christof rose an eyebrow to that in a silent demand for confirmation he had heard her correctly. Sable nodded. “He said something about it being a show of the Braykith power over the rebellion.”
“Oh, is it now?” Christof said with a chuckle. “That is interesting. Are they taking the traditional route?”
Sable shrugged and instantly hated that she could not give him that information. “I can only guess that he will. There has been no talk during preparations that there is an alternate track. Eva isn’t as close to the planning as I thought she might be.” Sable lowered her head, apologising. “Most of what I am hearing is gossip from the soldiers as they prepare.”
Christof nodded. “I wouldn’t suspect that Evangeline would be. Kyleigh may have a better idea of what is going on. Entice her into some conversation if you can.”
Sable nodded. “Of course.” She paused, stopping Christof just before he turned to leave. “Evangeline’s other helper is growing suspicious of me,” Sable confessed. She had considered a few simple ways of ridding Wick, but none of them seemed achievable.
Christof frowned. “It is too soon for such suspicions.” Scratching his chin through his beard, he seemed to be thinking before finally reaching into his pocket and handed her a small vial. “This is the same poison we used on Thea. Get rid of that girl before she ruins our plans.” Sable took it without hesitation. “We were slow with Thea. This girl needs to be destroyed quickly. A few drops will be more than enough.”
“I hope to report with more news soon Sir.” She bowed to him, and Christof took his leave, leaving Sable to marvel at the slick liquid inside the vial. It appeared clear at first glance, but with a swirl of colour that only showed up when held under the sun just so. Turning the small bottle first one way and another, Sable watched as the liquid ran slightly thicker than water would.
Smiling to herself, Sable put the vial deep in her pockets and returned to her horse. While she did not wish for Wick to die, she could not allow her to interfere either.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
G lais sat at the same table he had sat at many times before, and yet it felt wrong this time. The seat that was usually Baxter’s was empty. Glais stared at the chair as if it had somehow personally offended him, and the intensity of that betrayal was yet to sway. Glais doubted there would ever be a time where he would be fine with looking at the once familiar spot at the setting.
The royal family ate in silence. A strain had settled over them all in the following days, and Glais did not know how to break it, or if he could even bring himself to want it broken. Each person was locked in their thoughts with such disdain on their faces; he feared to know what they were thinking. All that interrupted their morning meal was the sound of chewing and the drinking of wine to wash it all down.
Looking from his plate to Evangeline’s, he guessed they had stayed almost long enough when the door suddenly swung open. Sable stood in the frame, frantic as she searched the room. “My lady, I am so sorry.” She interrupted them, Glais and his father already standing while the women looked at her in shock.
“Well spit it out.” His father shouted, and Glais felt sorry for the poor girl who seemed to shrink just a little now that it appeared that the adrenaline was washing over her.
“It is Wick.” She said suddenly, Evangeline now standing at her attendant’s name. “I don’t know what happened. We were sitting for the morning meal and suddenly…” Sable was at a loss for words and Evangeline was already moving towards her.
“Where is she?” Evangeline asked.
“In her room. I didn’t know where to take her.” The tears sprung from Sable’s eyes, but Evangeline was already past her with Glais following close behind. He heard Sable following, but he did not care. Wick was his friend, and he always imagined her being there in some form or another until old age struck her down. For her to suddenly fall ill seemed like a continued run of bad luck which had claimed so much of the castle already.
Evangeline let herself into the servant’s shared rooms and found Wick on the floor, obviously collapsed from her chair and too weak to move from where she ha
d fallen. “Eva, allow me,” Glais said, gently shooing her away after she attempted to move Wick and failed. Collecting Wick up in his arms, Glais gently put her on the nearby bed and ensured the pillows and blankets enfolded her gently. Stepping back, Evangeline moved forward and was making quick work on the uniform to relax the ties around Wick’s midsection in an attempt to make her more comfortable.
“Wick?” Evangeline spoke the woman's name gently, pushing her hair back from her face and trying to get her attention. Wick’s face remained motionless, much like it did during most of the times that Evangeline had spoken with her. After a moment of studying the servant’s face, Evangeline could see that under the closed lids her eyes were flickering, fighting against the wave of nausea that rocked her body from time to time. “This is poison,” Evangeline whispered, looking up at Glais.
Glais frowned. “Are you sure?” he asked.
Evangeline shook her head. “I can’t be sure, but she is acting as my mother did.” Evangeline turned back to the table to see Sable standing uncertainly in the doorway. “Who brought this food here?”
“I did,” Sable answered.
“Wick always got her own food,” Evangeline countered, frowning at the sudden change of routine. Wick was a stubborn woman when it came to routine. Even with her stoic nature, it was easy to tell when she was bothered by a lack of order.
“Usually she does,” Sable was quick to agree. She had already considered this part of her story and knew that Evangeline did not know much of how Sable and Wick operated when not under her watchful eyes. This was going to be Evangeline’s downfall if Sable could make it seem believable. “There have been times in the past when she has been consumed with work, and I have fetched food for us both. This morning she was busy working on your skirts, and I was hungry, so I told her I would fetch us both breakfast from the kitchens.” Sable wiped at her eyes, cleaning the moisture from her hands onto the fabric of her dress. “This is all my fault.” She cried, but Evangeline rushed to her side, hugging Sable close and shaking her head. Sable cried harder, and Glais turned to what remained of the meal on the table.
He struggled with most forms of affection shared between people, but the need to remove himself from the weeping woman was also fuelled by needing answers. There was nothing out of the ordinary about what remained on the small table. It was a modest setup, no decorative coverings or flowers could be seen. Two bowls of porridge sat opposite each other on the small table. One was close to half-eaten. However, the other seemed barely touched. Tea was set and judging by the rings in the cups, Glais would guess the women had drunk more of the tea than they had eaten. He looked over to Sable and tried to judge if her emotional outburst was genuine or rehearsed.
He knew that Evangeline trusted her. He had never dared to say that Sable was not as genuine as Evangeline claimed her to be, but there was uneasy tightness that collected in his chest whenever she was around. Glais did not know what it was, and perhaps it was the trickery of the curse that kept him agitated, but there was no denying that regardless of how she composed herself, Glais assumed the worst. Looking to Sable now, he tested the air, reaching out with the tendrils of the curse to claim the beat of her heart. It was steady, humming with adrenaline, and strong. He frowned at her in concentration.
Evangeline looked over to see Glais studying them both, and her face betrayed her thoughts faster than Evangeline wanted them known. Glais went back to watching the breakfast bowls, and Evangeline hoped she would not need to protect Sable from more scrutiny. The rumours would be enough without it coming from those who Sable interreacted with regularly.
“Did you get the servings yourself?” Glais asked after a moment of silence, his voice carefully neutral.
“Yes.” Sable shivered in Evangeline’s embrace, looking up from her shoulder to address Glais as best as she could without having to meet his eyes directly. Quintus had a strange way of knowing if someone was speaking the truth, but Sable was not sure if his son followed in his footsteps. Sable would not be taking her chances and had no problem in using Evangeline as a shield to hide behind. “There was a large pot of it ready for when the soldiers came in to eat.” Glais frowned at her words slightly, and Sable panicked at what the change in his features could mean. “That was what the chef said because he was mad at me when I took two servings. I told him the men wouldn’t even notice.”
If what she claimed was right, and she did not poison the bowls herself but instead had taken tainted food from the food hall than their troops would be ingesting it themselves. Glais and Evangeline’s eyes met immediately, and it seemed they found the same plausible conclusion.
“Go,” Evangeline told him, her pointed hand to the door useless since Glais had already taken off down the hall and towards the kitchens. He passed the family eating quarters and did not bother to look in. With Glais and Evangeline missing, his mother and sister would have quickly retired. Quintus had important matters to get to. He did not slow as he threw open the doors to the mess hall where the soldiers took their meals.
The great mess hall was busy, and the boisterous shouts of men could be heard as they sat about eating and relaxing in what might be their final days. The threat of war was looming, and the best soldiers of Braykith would march with their King towards Crimah within a few days. While spirits were high, no one assumed the unit would return home completely whole. Some men would lose their lives.
Bashing the door open with his shoulder, Glais made his presence known and instantly the soldiers all stopped what they were doing to honour him. It could have been eerie to observe, but for Glais the reaction was expected and demanded his position. He barely seemed to register the sudden quiet and eyes on him as he studied the food which had been made available for this morning.
“How many of you were served porridge this morning?” He asked. “Quickly now, answer me. Stand if you were served porridge.” Most of the men were standing. Licking his lips and not liking those odds, Glais tried to remain calm. He watched those closest to him, looking for signs of illness. Some shuffled on their feet; one held himself up by using the table for stability. If they were affected, right now the side effects were minimal. He could not guess at how quickly this could turn against them. “How many of you ate the porridge?” Four men sat down, but most remained standing. Glais nodded, the gesture more to calm himself than for any other reason.
“Come with me,” Glais said. Never to disobey the command of their Prince, the men followed out the doors and through the castle without questioning why. The men left behind were not as polite, and as soon as Glais left, a flurry of life erupted in his wake as men discussed the possible reasoning for this arbitrary division between them. Most of the men had gone with him, leaving only a handful of strays who had taken bread for their morning meal.
Glais had only a single plan, and while it might not be medically sound, it was all he could hope to do to change their current course. It did not make him feel better about Sable to see that none of the men was as sick as Wick. The apparent answer was Wick’s weakened state made her more susceptible to the poison, but Glais would not forget these details once he had time to examine them at his leisure. Should that time ever come to pass.
Standing in the gardens, he turned to the men before him. Without being told, they had quickly fallen into ranks. Glais sighed, not believing what he was about to tell these men what he was thinking. “It is believed that the porridge has been tampered with a poison. I am going to ask you do to something that might seem a little odd but may save your lives.” The men looked uneasily from one another, but no-one objected. “You need to vomit,” Glais said.
“Excuse me?” A voice emerged from the mutterings of confusion.
“I know it sounds strange, but it is a trick my brother taught me when drinking wine. If you feel like you have drunk too much, you should induce vomiting before falling to sleep. Come morning you will feel far better than if you had not.” No one moved. “There is poison in your stomachs ri
ght now, dark magic working into your veins and stealing your life. Rejecting it is all I can think of to save you.” Glais sounded desperate, and the men felt that desperation.
The group of over a hundred men stood in line, facing the Prince, and trying to understand the circumstances. Mutterings were echoing between the soldiers. Talk of poison and rebel spies stung the loyal men. It all happened quite suddenly. Glais was once more going to attempt to sway them when one turned away from Glais and lost his breakfast into the nearby ground.
The sound was enough to encourage, and force, those closest to him to follow the same. Soon the exercise was too much for Glais to watch, and he needed to step away from the men in the hopes of getting some fresh air. He knew that it might be too late to keep them safe from the full effects, but Glais could not sit by and let his men die without trying something. That had to be better than nothing at all.
When the time came when he would be forced to explain his actions to his father, then Glais would need to put words to what was happening just behind him. For now, though, he stood just a little away from the large gathering and clasped his hands behind his back. He could not witness the purging however it seemed cowardly to leave them altogether. Just as Glais felt he might lose the contents of his stomach he heard the rushed footsteps and a swish of heavy fabrics.
He looked to the main entrance to see Evangeline fleeing down the stone steps with more power than he ever believed her to possess. “Evangeline.” He shouted her name, jogging to meet her once she turned to the sound of her name. “How is Wick?” he asked.
“She said the name of a woman in town. And something about Belltower vines.” Evangeline shook her head. “I don’t know what it means, but I hope the woman does.” She tried to leave, but Glais stopped her with a firm hand to her elbow.
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