The Poisoner's Enemy

by Jeff Wheeler

  “It’s the only reason he’s supported me thus far,” Eredur said, grinning. “But Warrewik and Lewis have the upper hand right now.”

  She shook her head vehemently. “They do not, my lord. You have never been defeated in battle. You’ve been tricked and duped before. But this conflict will only end on the battlefield. Your uncle fears you. And so does Lewis. When you land in the North, it will terrify them both.”

  Eredur rose from his chair and began pacing. “I risk all with one throw of the dice. I don’t want to be wrong.”

  “Horwath can aid you,” Thomas said, trying to help persuade him. “If you lose Dundrennan, you will have no further defense. Kiskaddon cannot stand alone. He’ll capitulate to save his duchy. Horwath is staunch. He’ll fight to the end.”

  “I’m counting on that,” Eredur said. “I’ve always respected that man. He does what he says he’ll do. And he was loyal to my father from the beginning.” He sighed and tossed up his hands. “What else can I do? I’m not just fighting for my throne. I’m fighting for my son’s future as well.” He gave Ankarette a fond smile. “I’m grateful you were there to bring him into the world, lass.”

  “He’s a handsome babe,” Ankarette said, dimpling at the praise. “He’ll need you to teach him how to be king.”

  “Then I cannot waste a moment,” Eredur answered. “We go to the palace.”

  Ankarette knew the powers of every type of poison. Some could leave your insides wrenching in pain. Others could create a dreamy sense of euphoria. But she knew of no substance that could counterfeit the feelings she experienced while walking hand in hand with Thomas Mortimer in the gardens of the Temaires’ palace in Marq.

  Eredur was meeting privately with King Philip and his wife, Eredur’s sister, so Thomas and Ankarette had started strolling through the grounds. They had started off walking close together—Ankarette sharing the latest news from Kingfountain, and Thomas telling her about the subterfuges and politics of the Brugian court. And then he had stopped and taken her hand.

  “Look around us, Ankarette. Couples walking together, hand in hand. I envy them at times like this. Some days I’m so weary of the deception, the frustration, and the injustice of the world. Do you ever long for simpler days?”

  “Has it ever been simple?” she asked teasingly.

  The feeling of his hand in hers made her giddy inside. Finally, she found herself thinking. Finally.

  “Not in a long time,” he answered with a chuckle. “Sometimes I think about the falcon hunts. You and Isybelle riding ahead. I was your protector—not that you needed it! Those were quiet and simpler days. Or maybe it’s just that I’m looking at them in a different light now.” He gave her a covert look and a private smile. “Thank you for sharing the burden of the Star Chamber with me. I was hopelessly overwhelmed by the flood of messages. Thought I’d drown in them. You made the impossible task . . . enjoyable.”

  “It wasn’t so bad to me,” she confessed.

  “That doesn’t lessen my gratitude for it. And if you don’t mind, I’d like to savor this little haven a trice longer.” He breathed in deeply, casting his eyes around the park.

  But he didn’t release her hand, and soon they were strolling the waterways, watching the herons and swans, and relishing each other’s company. There was no feeling in the world to describe it. They had been friends for so many years, and somewhere along the way, he had stopped looking at her as a child and started to see the woman she’d become. It was a heady feeling, and she knew she would savor this moment forever.

  “There is a little place,” he said with a sly voice, glancing at her, “by the bridge leading to the only sanctuary of Our Lady in Marq. There are little tables and chairs outside where you can watch the people come and go. Everyone owns a pet in this city—many of the dogs are whip thin and better groomed than the people. The food there is really quite good. Would you care to join me? We’d need to take a gondola to get there.”

  “If you think we’ll have time,” she said.

  “I’d like to take you there,” he said, squeezing her hand.

  The gondola ride was idyllic, but Thomas had her full attention, and they continued their talk of Brugia.

  “Everyone carries a sword,” he explained, patting his own, “because the youth are hot-tempered and quick to insult and challenge one another. There are feuds among the nobility that have lasted for generations. All the wealthiest families have a manor home here in Marq and squabble over their holdings throughout the realm. There was a riot a few weeks ago caused by some disturbance or other.”

  “What do they fight about?” she asked.

  “Everything,” he teased. “They’re not very different than we are in Ceredigion. Are we not also fighting over land and squabbling over insults? Contention seems to be the sport of the nobility.”

  “Would that have anything to do with excessive ambition?” she asked, giving him a pointed look.

  He smiled, cocking his head to one side. “There’s that too,” he conceded.

  After the boat arrived at the small dock, he got out first and then helped her out, not surrendering her hand as they walked. They looked like any of the Brugian couples along the lane, and she had a momentary fancy that they could melt into the crowd and remain in Brugia forever, forsaking the troubles and the perils of their lives. A strong part of her hungered for that, to lay down the burdens of a kingdom and simply be this man’s wife. They made it to the little bakery, and he ordered a variety of local fare for them to sample.

  “A strange combination of spices,” he said about the drink she’d just sampled, “but I do believe it is my favorite.”

  “What is it?”

  “It’s made from some kind of root,” he said with a shrug. “I don’t remember the name, but we do not have it in Ceredigion. It has a unique flavor, does it not? And the rice pottage is excellent too.” He took her spoon and stirred the little bowl with the pottage. “There is some egg, some green onion, some poultry, I think.” He pitched his voice a little lower. “Maybe it’s swan—there are so many of those abominable birds in this city.”

  She laughed at his joke. “It’s wonderful,” she answered, setting her hand on the table close to his. He stared at it a moment, and she saw his brow wrinkle slightly, altering his expression.

  “What’s troubling you?” she asked.

  He looked abashed by her question. “You’re too clever, Ankarette. I feel there is nowhere I can hide where you cannot ferret me out.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Are you toying with me?”

  She arched an eyebrow.

  He sighed, leaning back in the chair. He stared at her hand on the table and put his own hand on top of it. “I wasn’t expecting . . . I didn’t think that when I saw you again . . .” His voice trailed off and he fidgeted, then gently stroked the top of her hand with his thumb.

  “Is there something you’re trying to say?” she asked gently.

  His eyes met hers. “I’ve never been clever at speaking my heart. I try, in my own clumsy way, but I’m too much a soldier. Or maybe too much a spy. I always worry too much about what the other person is thinking, how they are taking my words. Then my thoughts get jumbled together and my tongue unloosens from my jaw and I make a botch of it all.” He smiled at her, but she could see his worry, his fear. “I don’t want to ruin this moment. I’m afraid that I will.”

  Ankarette gazed down at the pottage bowl. “Just speak from your heart, Thomas. Speak the truth.”

  “The truth? Only it’s not very simple. Not very tidy. The truth is that more than once I’ve made a fool of myself in the eyes of the girl I thought I loved. You handed me her note, her rejection, before I left Kingfountain. That was very kind of you to give it to me. Look at me, Ankarette.”

  She obeyed, though it terrified her to look at him just then.

  He clasped her hand. “I’ve chased after someone for years to satisfy my ambition. But all this time in Brugia . . . it ha
s given me time to think. I realized that if we were forced to stay in exile, I would never see Elysabeth Horwath again. And that thought didn’t trouble me.” He sighed. “What did,” he whispered, “was that I might never see you again.”

  Her throat was dry, so very dry. He was on the verge of confessing his feelings for her. She had never dreamed it would be possible, although she had hoped for it.

  “Here I am,” she said, giving him a kind smile, willing him with all her soul to lean over the table and kiss her.

  “What a surprise it has been to see you here,” he said, shaking his head. He raised her hand and pressed his mouth to her knuckles. “I’m still afraid I’ll discover this was all a dream. I would be happy if I never awoke from it.”

  “This isn’t a dream, Thomas,” she said, sidling a little closer. “But we must go back to Kingfountain. We are both loyal to Eredur and Elyse. What will happen then? I would never want to lose your friendship.”

  He set her hand down in mock surprise. “That’s not even possible, Ankarette. You have been a true friend to me ever since we met. No, I’d already decided this before you came. When this is over, I’m going to ask the king to let me manage one of his hunting lodges in the North. Maybe Marshaw?” he added with a wag of his eyebrows. “I’m done chasing my ambition. What has ambition gotten Warrewik? It has turned a man I once respected into a shell of himself.”

  As Ankarette listened to him, she couldn’t help but wonder if his fatigue of politics and intrigue would last. It thrilled her to be part of the machinations of power, and she believed it thrilled him too.

  “I don’t think becoming an earl could make me happier than I feel at this very moment,” he continued. “I know the king will use you. That he must use you. You are his poisoner.” He said the last part in a very quiet voice so as not to be overheard. “But you are dear to me, Ankarette. And ever will be.”

  She saw the look in his eyes change. Saw the warmth in his eyes freeze over. He let go of her hand as Severn Argentine arrived at their table.

  “There you are, Sir Thomas,” Severn said coldly. “Flirting with one of the local lasses, I see. Make your excuses to the girl, if you will—my brother wants to see us back at the palace. He’s been promised boats and a few hundred men.” He snorted. “Not much of an army, but it’s better than fighting with spades and shovels. We’ll be departing this city of bird droppings on the morrow.” He looked sternly at Thomas, saw the flustered anger in his eyes. Ankarette said nothing, but she did not have kind feelings for the king’s brother at that moment. His sharp tongue was unwelcome.

  “What?” Severn chided. He wrinkled his nose and looked around coldly. “You like this place? I’d sooner limp with a tack in my boot than stay in his muck hole a day longer. Let’s go, man. On your way.”

  Severn was a duke of the realm and had the right to command.

  Thomas rose from his chair, offering an apologetic smile to Ankarette. Severn had not even recognized her. Her attire and manners had deceived him without any effort.

  Thomas pitched his voice low for her. “I’ll meet you back at the manor. Let me go back to the king with Severn.”

  She nodded, feeling disappointment well up inside her.

  “Come on, man!” Severn growled. “Leave her be. You’re never coming back here again.”

  Thomas straightened, trying to curb his anger. Then, in defiance, he grinned at her, leaned down, and kissed her cheek before he left.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

  Crowspar

  Ankarette and Hawkins returned to Kingfountain aboard another Genevese trading ship. Many mercenaries come to fight for the Duke of Warrewik traveled with them. Ankarette poisoned their supper so that all the would-be fighters would suffer from a bowel disorder during the night. Her escort, Hawkins, was even more afraid of her after she told him what she’d done.

  She had exchanged her Brugian disguise for a commoner’s frock and walked purposefully to the bridge leading to the sanctuary of Our Lady. She and Thomas had not been able to say good-bye privately prior to her departure. In exchange for the small show of support Severn had mentioned, Eredur had agreed to support his brother-in-law, King Philip, should he decide to wage war on Occitania. Eredur had been in no position to deny him anything.

  “There are many of Warrewik’s men guarding the entrance,” Hawkins said worriedly in an undertone as they approached the sanctuary. Indeed, there were at least a dozen soldiers milling around in the street before the gates. Some of the riffraff on the inside of the grounds were jeering at the guards wearing the badge of the Bear and Ragged Staff.

  “Let’s split up,” Ankarette said to him as they maneuvered through the bustling crowd. “You enter from the left, and I’ll go in from the right. One of us needs to get through to tell the queen her husband is returning.”

  “Very well,” Hawkins said nervously. The two of them separated and Ankarette lengthened her stride. She adopted the manners of a fretful woman, rubbing her hands and sighing like a penitent come to throw a coin in the fountain for a prayer. She kept her gaze on the spire of the sanctuary and even managed to summon enough emotion to wet her eyes. As she fidgeted with her hands, she twisted her poisoned ring and exposed the needle.

  As she tried to pass one of the soldiers at the side of the gate, a firm hand grabbed her shoulder, stopping her.

  “Hold up, lass,” the soldier said, turning her. It was one of Warrewik’s men. She recognized him from Dundrennan, though she couldn’t place his name. He scrutinized her face, his expression guarded and wary. “What’s your name? Do I know you?”

  She was almost a footstep from being within the sanctuary. Another soldier stepped up, blocking the way.

  The longer she delayed, the more soldiers would come. Without responding in word, she grabbed the first soldier’s littlest finger and yanked it hard, snapping the bone. The soldier’s face crumpled with pain and he jerked away from her, howling, his face contorting with surprise and agony. She backed away from him, right into the man who had come up to block her way. As soon as she felt his body, she pretended to be startled and then dropped her hand and jabbed the poisoned ring into his thigh.

  “What the . . . ugh!” he said, feeling the sting of pain. She turned in time to watch him crumple to the ground. Looks and stares began to come from those around her. Other soldiers were turning, looking angry and confused. Ankarette stepped inside the gate as the soldiers clustered around. Some of the sanctuary men began laughing at the soldiers, and soon apple cores and rubbish were being hurled at Warrewik’s men.

  Ankarette saw Hawkins trying to argue his way in through the gate, but the sentries had blocked everyone from coming in or going out. He was on his own. She walked away from the scene of the confusion and felt the ripple of Fountain magic behind her, following her. Her stomach clenched with dread. It didn’t feel like Lord Hux, but she couldn’t be positive. Instead of going into the majestic structure, she went to one of the large mirror pools outside of it and stood there, head bowed, thoughts running wild.

  The presence of the person drew closer to her, stealing up behind her. A ripple of distrust and awareness of danger coursed through her. She continued the posture of prayer but surreptitiously reached for her dagger. When she felt the person nearly behind her, she suddenly whirled, brandishing the weapon in anticipation of a duel.

  She saw no one, but she heard rapid shuffle steps backing away. Her eyes darted quickly to each side, realizing that the person who had stolen up behind her could not be seen.

  “Who are you?” she said in a dangerous voice. She had sensed this person, this invisible man before—the day she and Thomas had staged the scene at the tavern.

  There was no reply, just the vague feeling of retreat.

  “Come near me again, and I’ll kill you,” she said. “I’m the Queen’s Poisoner.”

  The feeling continued to wane. But then she heard a reply. “My mistake,” said the raspy, cunning voice. A man’s voice.

&nb
sp; Had there not been so many bystanders in the general area, she might have chanced throwing her dagger. But without a visible target, she did not dare take the risk. She sheathed her weapon again and her heartbeat slowed to a more bearable rate.

  Deconeus Tunmore was the first person Ankarette saw upon entering the sanctuary. He had come to investigate the conflict at the gate. When he saw her, his look changed to one of understanding.

  “This explains the commotion,” he said. “I was warned that the duke’s men were starting to riot.”

  “One tried to stop me from entering,” she answered.

  “Is anyone dead?”

  She gave him an arch look. “I only do that when there is no other choice. I wounded two. Take me to the queen. There is news. But a question for you, if you will.”

  “Yes, what is it?”

  She watched his expression closely. “There is someone Fountain-blessed on the sanctuary grounds. I just sensed him over by that fountain.”

  Tunmore nodded. “That would be Dragan.”

  “Who is he?” she asked. “His power . . . it’s invisibility, isn’t it?”

  “Yes, and it fits his choice of profession quite well. He’s one of the sanctuary men, a thief. He steals from people in the city during the day and sleeps in the sanctuary at night. He’s a coward, but as slippery as a fish drenched in oil. I’ve never revealed to him that I know the truth. He’s a pickpocket. And he sells information to the Espion. If he saw you slip through the gate, he was probably trying to earn some money by reporting you to Warrewik.”

  “I should have killed him, then,” Ankarette said. “He’s stolen from me before.”

  “He’s a coward. No doubt he will stay away from you now. But that is inconsequential. There is news, Ankarette. Queen Morvared has returned to Ceredigion.”