“Nik,” he said. “And this is Gerod.”
“Great,” she said. “Now, what’s going on?”
His smile melted away and he gestured for his companion to start walking. He raised an eyebrow when Tiana didn’t move.
“Oh!” she said and hurried after Gerod, Nik drawing up the rear.
Tiana could already smell the bread baking. She wistfully witnessed the smoke from the kitchens barreling up into the clearing day as she scurried past. Her stomach rumbled in protest. She’d been up too long and eaten too little. She may have also had a bit too much wine with Asha the previous night to be doing this. By previous night, that meant an hour ago.
It was likely a good thing she was chewing mint.
Gerod kept a brutal pace and Tiana rushed to keep up with him. Wherever they were going, they were going fast. Between the fighting and the wine and the lack of sleep, she felt a little light headed if she were being completely honest.
“Where are we going?” she asked again. She looked back at Nik, who seemed to be the one of higher rank. His name did seem vaguely familiar too, but she was having a hard time placing him amidst the mass of hair on his face. Had they met? Probably not. Guards didn’t spend much time in the library, and she’d certainly never had the delight of being arrested by him.
His expression tightened. “It’s easier to explain when we get there.”
“I’m not in trouble, I hope,” Tiana joked weakly.
“You aren’t, no.”
With that, she shut her mouth. She was smart enough to realize whoever they were rushing to was likely someone important and probably in great danger.
They barreled through the castle, passing through portions of it she’d never even been before. It wasn’t until they were standing right outside the gold, gilded doors, the Tree of Life pressed upon the ancient oak, that she realized where she was.
The sapphire eyes of the two unicorns on the crest made her nauseous.
The Royal Wing.
Before she could so much as protest, the doors were drawn open, the two rearing unicorns separated as the crest cracked down the middle.
It looked like a ghost town.
A splendid, opulent, rich one, but a ghost town all the same.
They entered first into the main sitting area, with two couches of the plushest fabric facing one another, an enormous mantle place on the far end, an empty grate beneath it and a still life by some dead master above.
They spent little time there, heading down one of the many halls all circling the room. They went up a grand, carpeted flight of stairs, and down a hallway lined with portraits.
Here there was a bit more noise. Past one of the doors, in a room bathed in rosy pink morning light, there came a hiccuping and then quieting sobs.
Tiana wondered briefly if it might be the dauphine, the little princess who would one day take the throne. She’d only ever seen her before when she came out to stand on the balcony with her father and wave down to the square. A little cherub with light hair and a serious face.
They passed monarch after monarch, their wives and husbands all at attention, staring gloomily out into the dimly light hall, rendered in oils.
There was one, however, which truly caught Tiana’s eye in passing. It was a woman with a round face and pale cheeks, dabbled with the sweetest bit of pink. She had long blonde hair tied back in heavy braids around her face. Elven ears could be seen peeping from amidst the sea of golden yellow. Her eyes were the slightest bit sallow. Tiana didn’t think she’d ever seen a sadder person.
She hardly had time to think much more on it as they finally came to a stop, just as the hallway turned into a bend. Gerod reached for the door and knocked twice. It took a moment, but it opened a crack and another serious-faced guard opened the door to administer them.
For a heartbeat, Tiana thought she was standing in the rooms of King Solia. And for one millisecond, every functioning organ in her body clenched in fear.
The King...was dying?
Oh dear gods, how could it be up to her to save him?
She clutched her medkit to her chest and bit the inside of her cheek to keep from screaming. Panicked, she repeated lists of antidotes in her mind, naming the poisons alongside them to keep herself from quite literally hurling herself out the glass windows and into the mountains beyond.
The doors to the bedroom were open. Low murmurs of male voices sounded from within.
“He’s with him now,” she heard the new guard say to Nik.
“How’s he doing?”
“It doesn’t look good. None of us could figure out what it was, even with basic training. Whatever this bastard got him with...it doesn’t look pretty.”
Tiana had to work hard to swallow the bile climbing up her throat.
The room was a mess, there were dirt tracks all over the floor and it smelled like garbage, shit and piss, with the faintest aroma of baking salt. It was a familiar smell...it smelled like…the Sludge.
She rounded the corner, heart palpitating as she took in the figure slouched in the bed, coughing pathetically.
“Oh, shit,” she gasped as the medkit fell from her hand.
The occupant of the bed groaned, his head turning towards the sound. King Marius, who was perched on the mattress stood up on her arrival.
“Thank the gods,” he said. His hair stood up on complete end, run through so many times with his hand it looked manic. “Please tell me you know what’s wrong with him.”
She knew what was wrong with him alright. Knew exactly what in her kit would fix it, too.
Because she was the one who poisoned him.
Chapter 4
Roland could barely believe he’d made it to the palace. No, he could barely believe he’d woken up alive. That little shit de Rossi hadn’t pulled any punches. He may have spared his life, but Roland didn’t think he’d be thanking him for it any time soon.
It had still been dark when he gasped awake. The moon was just beginning to fade. Waking up in the pile of trash was...shitty. Literally. And he’d spent the walk peeling all sorts of unmentionables from his person, squinting through his sliding vision and catching himself on buildings and poles the entire way back to Ira’s apartments, which thankfully, was where Niki would be waiting for him.
He’d barely been able to throw his fist against the merchant’s door in some semblance of a knock before he fell against the wood and slid down. Luckily Niki was desperately waiting for his prince and captain to show up. The door was flung open, he was exclaimed over, hands slapping his cheeks. He was thanked by puke spilling all over his shined shoes.
“Shit,” said Niki, pulling him up to his feet. “What the hell happened? I was about to send out a search party...Jork?”
But Roland had passed out.
He came through to awareness every once in a while. They’d arrived at the castle in a blurry daze, twitching a hand at Alexys who was up early, too excited for her day of birthday fun. He hadn’t been all there when she’d burst into fearful tears to his garbled, “Happy...day.”
Then, of course, he’d snapped to consciousness momentarily when Marius had been issuing orders. He demanded the master librarian because the physician was bloody useless!
And now, there was another person by the door, a small person making noise.
Roland groaned, fighting the urge to eat his tongue, it hurt so badly.
Why couldn’t he feel his entire face? And why did everything manage to hurt?
He coughed. His brother was crouched beside the person, helping them...pick up...a box?
“Whaz...goin..going on?” he managed to mumble out. He attempted to get onto his elbow to see a bit better, but the smaller person beside his brother got up and pushed him back into the mattress.
A woman with messy kinks of red hair and glaring black eyes was looking down at him. He gaped at her.
Who was she?
Beautiful.
That was the first thing his mind clued in on, trailin
g the sweet curve of her jaw.
Her pillow plush lips moved as they gave an order. What it was, he wasn’t sure, he couldn’t hear her. Her brows were drawn together, serious in her heart-shaped face.
Roland wanted to touch her. He’d never seen such perfection.
With one hand, he cupped her cheek, his thumb wobbly exploring the shape of her face. She snapped away from him, blazing with fury and with red. So much red.
“Wa..wait,” he breathed, ears warbling to the sound of his own noise.
“Drink this,” a throaty voice demanded, a cup of liquid drowning out his next words. He choked, but a firm hand gripped the back of his head, twisted in his hair. Gently his neck was tilted and the gush of water slid down his throat.
It was so cold. How did this goddess make it so cold? Had water always been so good, or was it only at her hand?
Roland thought about telling her this, but then realized he was never very good at talking to women. Not like that. He’d never needed to know how. He was the spare. No one needed him to woo anyone into marriage or heirs, so Marius had always been better at it. The women and the children.
What did he say to this woman he was pretty sure he already loved?
She took the water away, placing his head gently back on the pillow. Whatever she gave him, which might not have been just water, did help his stomach in the slightest bit. His eyes felt heavier than before. But, he had to see her.
He rolled his head to the side. She was speaking with Nik and Marius; two large, important men bending over to listen intently to what she had to say. Nik’s eyes were glued to her face. Was he admiring her lips too?
No, he couldn’t be.
“N..Niki,” he rasped, stretching a hand out. “M..m..mine.”
All three turned in his direction, worry creasing two of their faces. The woman...she looked, faintly amused? No that couldn’t be right. She had to be worried too.
Roland blinked as if it could wipe the expression on her face, except, he blinked for too long, and inadvertently fell asleep.
* * *
When he awoke he leaned over and was noisily sick. Luckily, there had been a bucket placed strategically there and he had enough sense to aim for it as he emptied his already empty stomach.
The door clicked as it opened and by the time he miserably sank back on his pillows, there was a maid in the room, reaching for the light beside his bed.
“Leave it off,” he mumbled with a hoarse groan. “I have a headache.”
“I need the light on to see what I’m doing,” said a familiar voice.
He growled as the artificial, alchemical brightness flared. Turning to glare at the menace who disobeyed him, he discovered the woman bustling about his bed did not dress like a servant. He stared at her robes for a long moment, taking in the soft leather shoes on her feet, and the heavy black robes she wore. Silver stitching threaded the sleeves and neck. Embroidered on her breast was an open book, two hands open beneath it as if to cradle the knowledge it held.
What was a library apprentice doing in his room?
He asked her as much.
“Apprentice Librarian,” she corrected, sniffing slightly. “I’m not a pimply teenager who just puts books away all day and snogs between the stacks when they think no one is looking.”
She lugged a big box onto the table beside his bed, cracking the clasp and unfolding shelves which held an obscene selection of ointments, vials, and powders.
“Now, what did you consume in the last twenty-four hours?”
He didn’t care much for her brisk tone. Grunting, he sat up, wishing almost immediately that he hadn’t bothered. Pain shot through his abdomen, white-hot and excruciating. He bent at the waist and wheezed.
Cool hands arrived on his bare shoulders and pushed him gently back onto the bed.
“Hold your horses, highness. Whatever you ate isn’t agreeing with you very well.”
“I was poisoned,” he told her.
“No need to be brutish about it,” she muttered, turning back to her apothecary.
“I..I hardly see how you expect me to be enthusiastic about being poisoned.”
“No, but...I mean, you’re still alive, aren’t you? They must not have been trying very hard to kill you.”
He groaned, hand clutching his side. The sheets moved away, whispering as they went. A moment later, those fingers touched his stomach. He flinched at the touch, then winced at the movement.
“Stop being dramatic,” the apprentice said, hands on her hips, surveying him with a disapproving frown. Did she not even realize she was speaking to a prince?
He didn’t often care for those sorts of things, but at this moment, he could’ve done with a bit more civility. She did work for him, technically. It was his family crest gracing the back of her velvet robes. He was in charge here. He would tell her as much.
Roland hissed, once again clutching his side. It felt as if an alchemical flare had gone off beneath his very skin! He could already feel the pain now, radiating further up his side. Gods! What had that rat de Rossi poisoned him with?
“What is wrong with...with me?” he panted, glowering at his side.
“You told me you’d been poisoned, so I’m going to guess that.”
He whipped his head to stare at her.
“Are you being sarcastic to me? Now?” he asked, incredulously at her gall.
“Oh, no,” she said, turning back to her medkit. Not before he saw her roll her eyes.
“What is your name, library apprentice?” he demanded.
“Apprentice Librarian,” she muttered for the second time, withdrawing a vial from her kit. Sighing, she siphoned some drops into a goblet, then poured water from the decanter into it. She handed it to him. “My name is Tiana.”
“Do you have a last name?” He took a cautious sip of water and was relieved when it was only ginger syrup she’d given him.
“Yes,” she said. “Now, once you’ve finished that, I’m going to crush up some Taler and give that to you.”
“Taler’s atrocious.”
“Oh gods, you’re so right! Whatever was I thinking? Let me get you some nice lemon cakes instead, highness. Would that be more pleasant?”
“You’ve a sharp tongue, Tiana,” he noted, handing off the goblet and sinking into the pillows once more. She picked up her pestle and mortar, dropping a bit of dried Taler flower in there. He wasn’t entirely sure of the properties of Taler, but he did know it was quite strong to combat stomach ailments. “And what is a pain medication to do for me, as I’ve been poisoned?”
“Yes, yes. Woe to you. Like I said, if they wanted to kill you, you’d be dead.”
“So you know what they gave me?”
She hesitated, caught off guard. Roland was satisfied to discover he’d stalled that quick tongue. Though, now he found himself more curious if, in fact, she did know what Killian had given him.
“It’s Yai root,” she said slowly, grinding away and not quite looking at him as she reached for another ingredient to add. “It numbs the nervous system and makes the consumer very drowsy. It can take a long while to get out of the system. That’s the crux, but it doesn’t kill. Merely weakens to extraordinary degrees.”
He winced as agony flared in his side, hands flying to the spot on his abdomen.
“And this pain?” he demanded. “Is that a symptom?”
“No, you’ve got some internal bruising as well,” she said simply, a bit of a smile to her voice. “Jumping out of windows, were you? Did you fancy you could fly?”
Roland gaped at her, but she merely shook her head. “A jest, highness. I only meant I don’t have the faintest idea how you might have managed enough of an impact. I’d think a fight, but you look fine otherwise. Now, open wide, this’ll sting.”
It did and he sputtered half the powder onto the bed it was so vile. His unsympathetic nurse merely glowered at him as if it were all his fault and made him another, more potent batch, then threatened to stitch his mouth
shut if he didn’t swallow it all. Eventually, he got the mixture down and was rewarded with a goblet of warm honey wine and crusts of bread.
“How cruel you are to take out all the fresh, soft bits,” he murmured awhile, gnawing on a particularly stale corner.
She, who had opened the curtains to the dusk outside and settled into a chair, lifted a corner of her lip and turned the page of her book. “You’ll thank me when it stays down. If you think to thank me at all.”
He bit back the slur of I don’t have to thank you, I’m a prince! And instead muttered, “Thank you.”
She paused, dark, coal-like eyes flickering up. There was such a brightness there, it once again took his breath away and while he was no longer utterly intoxicated with fever and the poison’s full effects, he could admire beauty when he saw it. And she was beautiful. There was, of course, something undeniably different about her face which no part of him could figure out what exactly it was. Her hair was long and red and full, face pale and lips plump. She seemed familiar, so he’d probably seen her once or twice in the library when he did go in, and yet…he couldn’t quite put his finger on it.
He also...kind of liked the way she spoke to him. It was seldom where a woman would dare. Most of them just...tittered in his presence. She spoke to him like his men did after they stopped thinking of him only as their prince, but as their comrade.
She spoke to him as if she saw him and was okay with what she saw. It didn’t matter that she was surrounded in the grandeur of his room, that faucets of gold and silver sparkling all about. Mirrors encrusted with gems stood in shadowed corners, wreathed with silken fabrics. Instead, Tiana just found herself a book from his shelves and occupied herself with it while he ate.
He enjoyed how nonplussed she was by her surroundings and yet, a part of him wanted to tell her how he hardly ever slept here; how that book in her hands belonged to a spoiled boy before he went to war and came back a soldier.
He hadn’t been in this room in years, hardly stepped foot in this sector of the Royal Wing. And even so, he doubted that she’d care all that much if he did tell her. She’d simply lift an eyebrow and ask in her drawl, “So?”
Deception: Rogues of the Red League, Book 1 Page 4
