Poison Marked

by TJ Nichols

  Unless he was poisoning the king.

  His heart beat too fast, as though he’d taken a drug. As much as he’d like some brandy to calm himself, he needed his wits. He smoothed his hands over his clothes to make sure he hadn’t forgotten the pumpkin seeds for Rodas.

  If Rodas ate them now, they would be in his system and doing their good work by the time he drank the poison. If it were summer and spinach were plentiful, Nikko would’ve made Rodas drink a slurry made from the leaves. Some foods lessened the effect of dead man’s bells better than others, but Nikko would still need to administer the cure. He had to poison his lover… but he was planning on saving him.

  The poison was cooling in his laboratory, ready for him to collect later. He needed to find which liquor to add it to. His mouth dried as he entered the room. People were still arriving, but the noise was denser than a swarm of bees.

  The clothing was a dizzying array of colors and patterns. Gold buckles gleamed. Silks shone and jewels glinted. Nikko wanted to fade back into the shadows, return to the old part of the palace where he belonged. But he couldn’t. He had to be there, but he’d attended enough parties to know when to nod and smile and say nothing. No one actually wanted to talk to him. He was a glorified servant. He wasn’t noble and would never be worthy of their attention.

  His gaze was drawn to Rodas, who laughed with some lords who were dressed as extravagantly as their wives. The wives smiled and nodded at whatever was being said. Rodas was meant to marry one of their daughters the next year. That was one of the things they didn’t talk about because they both knew Rodas was supposed to provide an heir. If he’d had a brother, he could’ve shrugged off the responsibility.

  But Rodas had to be alive to create an heir.

  Nikko glanced away and took up his position behind the king’s chair. He’d stand there all night until the king left and took a favored few to his private chambers for cards and gambling. There had once been a time when he took favorites to his chambers for more debauched activities, but the king had slowed down over the last two years. Had he lost the vigor to participate? Nikko could concoct a solution to that problem.

  Rodas caught Nikko’s eye for the briefest of moments, and a faint smile appeared on his lips.

  When there was so much beauty in the room, it was hard to believe the smile was for him. He didn’t smile back. He couldn’t risk it, but he adjusted his collar and smoothed the points against his chest to convey what he needed in a few simple gestures.

  Rodas gave a nod that could’ve been for the lord he was talking to, but Nikko knew better. Rodas understood Nikko needed to speak to him. No doubt he would figure it out before Nikko got even half the words out.

  Fortin strolled in, clearly expecting people to applaud the fact he could walk. He was swarmed by sycophants eager to prop up their own social standing. They fluttered and chattered around him like nervous birds. One wrong word and Fortin would turn on the unfortunate and make them the butt of his cruel jests.

  Nikko had no desire to be poison master under Fortin. But to be poison master under Rodas? It was an impossible dream, and he didn’t allow himself those luxuries.

  Rodas excused himself from his gathering and left the hall.

  Nikko asked a servant how far away the king was. He spoke to a few others to ask about the food and request samples. It was part of his job. The nobles would expect to see him eat and not die in the next couple of hours. When they finished dancing, they would sit and eat, happy to see him still standing, not realizing he could make a poison that would take a day to make them sick and another two days to kill them—a poison he was immune to.

  He left the hall and ran straight into Rodas. To those servants who might notice, it looked like a clumsy error. Nikko relished the contact as he rested his hand on Rodas’s chest for a heartbeat too long.

  “I’m sorry, my lord.” He gave a half bow and removed the packet of pumpkin seeds from his pocket. Most nobles were smart enough to retain some fear about what he could do. Only Rodas loved him, and he had been ordered to destroy that on the whim of the king. His throat closed.

  “No trouble. You didn’t step on my foot, so I can still dance.” Rodas’s hand brushed his, and he took the packet. They had passed notes before—a few words, a time or place to meet—small enough that they could be tossed down a privy or into a flame and draw no attention.

  Rodas frowned at the lumpy packet but said nothing.

  “Then I am glad I haven’t disappointed any ladies or gentlemen who wanted that honor.” Nikko forced the words out and kept them formal. There were too many people walking past for him to say more. Please forgive me.

  Rodas slipped the packet into his pocket.

  Nikko shook his head and touched his lip as though brushing something away. A signal that had always meant now. Rodas narrowed his eyes. He nodded understanding that he must take what Nikko had given him. A gift from a poison master before a feast could mean only one thing—there was a plot and poison in play.

  Chapter 4

  IN FULL view of everyone, Nikko sampled the delights that would be served to the nobles. Few actually watched him, as they were too busy dancing or gossiping. No doubt the fight between Rodas and Fortin was a hot topic—though none would be brave enough to say anything in front of the prince.

  Nikko scanned the room for Rodas, stealing the opportunity to observe him. He found him in a swirl of gold and blue as he danced. His footwork was graceful regardless of whether he was fighting or dancing. Just once Nikko wanted to know what it was like to dance with him—to be held, to be seen.

  He lowered his gaze to his plate. The palace would be duller without Rodas. Nikko didn’t know if he’d be able to get out of bed with the weight of guilt. If it were Fortin, he wouldn’t give it a moment of thought. But Rodas wasn’t only his lover—he was beloved by all. He was a hero and a reflection of how poorly Fortin behaved. Nikko swallowed without tasting. A servant was waiting, watching. He had to pretend all was well with the feast. It was solstice, and the middle of winter would be behind them come dawn.

  Last year he and Rodas had spent the solstice night together. They would’ve lingered longer if not for the hunt. The ring Nikko wore on his toe pressed into his flesh. Rodas vowed that night that they would find a way to be together.

  But this year he had nothing to celebrate. He should take the same poison so they could be together in death.

  “It’s all very nice.” Nikko smiled. There would be mountains of fancy dishes, more than the nobles could possibly eat, even if everyone threw up midway to make room for more. It was a practice he despised because he knew how much it hurt to go for days without a meal.

  He was handed a sample dessert.

  The actual creation would be beautiful. All he got was the pieces—a pale imitation of the life the nobles had. He should be grateful to even see the fire when he could be freezing on the streets, but he was full of resentment that he could never get close enough to feel the flames, even once. But if he strode out to the dance floor and took Rodas in his arms….

  He hadn’t climbed this far to be called a traitor.

  The king wasn’t dancing. He was standing around talking. Was he shoring up support for his son?

  Fortin’s words echoed it his ears. There would be no place for him here. Maybe he should leave. He could flee tonight and run fast and far. Another poison master could take his place. But if he wasn’t a poison master, he was a no one, and he wouldn’t go back to living on the streets.

  He nodded to the servant, and she took away the plates.

  For a few more moments, he watched Rodas—who would never be his, no matter what they whispered in the dark. Rodas could’ve ended the affair and stopped visiting. It would’ve hurt, but what Nikko had to do tonight would never heal. It would fester until Nikko died. The ache in his heart and the burning in his eyes was back. He drew in a few quick breaths to regain control.

  The king strolled over. “Well?”

  �
�The food all appears to be fine.” There were no odd tastes and no burning in his stomach or lingering aftertastes.

  “And later?” The king lowered his voice.

  “It will be ready.” He had to do his job.

  The king nodded. “There will be brandy in a blue bottle. Ensure it goes in there while we are eating.”

  “You will all drink it?” Or was the king going to offer only Rodas a taste of the poisoned brandy?

  “Do you think me a fool?”

  Nikko gave a half bow, and an apology tumbled from his lips. “I was merely worried about your health, Your Majesty. A potent poison is not to be toyed with.”

  “Do not concern yourself with administering. Just make sure it is in place.” The king stalked away.

  If the king put his faith in his amethyst goblet, he would find himself very ill indeed. No doubt if the king were ill, he’d blame Nikko and then want a cure. Trouble was the cure wasn’t a definite thing. Some people would still die. While he’d made sure Fortin would be miserable when he purged between courses, he hadn’t planned on any harm coming to the king. Too much could go wrong, and the wrong people could drink from the bottle.

  He didn’t want Rodas dead.

  But he didn’t want to break his oath to the king and fail either.

  Rodas’s life was in the hands of the gods he so easily dismissed. A little prayer might do his lover good.

  WHEN EVERYONE was into their third course—duck, chicken, pigeon, and other birds—the king motioned him forward. Nikko leaned down.

  “Go and finish that errand.” The king’s voice was low, for Nikko’s ears only.

  Nikko stepped back. Some would have seen the king speak with him, and most would assume it was for a purgative or something similar. Rodas was careful not to look at him, but he flicked his hair back—a gesture that was so casual Nikko wasn’t sure it was meant for him.

  It couldn’t have been, as it was too early and there was no way Rodas could leave the feast and come to him now. Maybe he was simply enjoying the conversation of the man next to him or genuinely brushing his hair out of the way.

  Away from the hall, the palace was quiet. In the old wing, his only company were a few rats that ran along the corridor, looking for something to eat. Occasionally when testing a new concoction, he’d see what effect it had on a rat. Usually he preferred to use a combination of poisons with a harmonious function so the victim had less chance of finding a remedy in the time they had left. Not tonight.

  He carefully decanted the solution of dead man’s bells and put the stopper in the bottle. If he put it in the brandy, he’d have no control over who drank or who got what dose.

  He poured a little nightfall into a vial, then put the rest in a bottle and placed it on the shelf. He might need it later if the king drank the brandy. Then he noticed a gap three bottles down. A tiny bottle was missing. That couldn’t be right. He scanned the shelves, looking for the syrup of wolfsbane. Maybe he’d put it back in the wrong place, though it was hard to misplace something so deadly.

  He kept it on hand because a few of the king’s soldiers liked to put it on their blades when they rode into battle. Rodas didn’t. There was nothing honorable about killing a fellow soldier—even one from the other side—with poison.

  Now it was gone. The candle in his hand cast deep shadows as he searched his work surface and cupboards. The wolfsbane was gone. Of all the syrups someone could take….

  Nikko put his hands on the smooth wooden bench and drew in several breaths.

  Whoever took it had no idea what they had. The syrup on a blade or in a drink would quickly be lethal. It wasn’t only the king plotting murder, and the blame would land at Nikko’s boots as surely as dawn followed night.

  Rushed footsteps echoed down the corridor. Nikko glanced up and palmed the blade he always carried. It was unpoisoned, but he knew where best to stab an attacker if the need arose. A flash of blue, and then Rodas was in the doorway to the laboratory. He shut the door and crossed the stone floor in a few quick strides.

  “You can’t be here.” Nikko wanted Rodas’s survival to be seen as a happy chance, not something he’d planned. Not that the joy would last for long. The king had marked Rodas for death, and it would come for him eventually. But not by his hand. He couldn’t kill the only person he loved.

  “What is going on? I cannot celebrate the solstice and dance and feast when my life is in danger.” Rodas’s eyes were wild and dark in the candlelight. The gold on his clothes glinted and shimmered.

  “You put on a very good performance.” Watching Rodas at feasts was a pleasure, even as it cut deep.

  “My life may depend on it. What did I eat?” The faintest touch of panic laced his voice.

  “Pumpkin seeds,” Nikko said. “You shouldn’t be here.”

  “I don’t care where I should be. Who wants me dead? The king? His pathetic excuse for a son? Did I dent his pride a little too deeply?”

  Nikko was silent.

  “By the gods… that’s it? He whined to his father how I made him look bad. Well, he did that all on his own.” Rodas stalked away and then returned and slapped his hands on the workbench. “How will pumpkin seeds save me?”

  “There’s something in them that helps counteract the poison, though not enough for them to be a cure on their own.” He was giving Rodas all the help he could.

  “And what concoction will you be giving me, love? A poison makes a poor solstice gift by the way.” His lips curved into a bitter smile.

  Nikko looked away. “A single poison because that gives you the best chance to survive. I don’t want to kill you, but I must obey. You must find a way to….” He couldn’t say the treasonous words that formed on his tongue. “If you survive tonight, he will try again.”

  Rodas’s eyes widened for a moment, and he nodded. “I am a threat.”

  “You’re popular.” Rodas could have anyone he wanted, yet he came to Nikko. That was the thought that kept Nikko warm all the nights when he was alone while Rodas was away, fighting or managing his estates. He would never be warm again if Rodas was cold.

  “And that’s a problem when my cousin is more interested in gambling than protecting his country.” A polite way to say Fortin was a coward.

  “There’s more. Someone has stolen a deadly poison. Try not to get stabbed tonight.” Fortin had said that there would be no place for Nikko—perhaps because Fortin planned to keep his blade wet with wolfsbane and do the work of a poison master himself. Anyone who dared to offer any insult would swiftly find themselves dead.

  Had Fortin known which poison to take?

  Nikko was always careful not to let the men see what he used on their blades. But he had no doubt that, if the price was right, there were some who would spill a secret or two. If the guild discovered them, their death would be merciless. A poison master could make death a slow and agonizing experience.

  “I would hope that the theft is unrelated, but somehow I suspect not.” Rodas pressed his lips together. “And the poison I’m to take, how will it be served?”

  “In the blue bottle of brandy in the king’s chambers. However, the poison that was stolen can be cured by what is in the brandy.”

  Rodas tilted his head. “Truthfully?”

  “Truthfully. I’ve prepared a tonic for you for after the brandy poison, though you will need to purge your stomach first. My gift to you this solstice is your life. Use it wisely, otherwise we are both undone.” He pushed the tiny vial across the table. Nikko would need more of the antidote if others drank the brandy.

  Rodas placed his hand over Nikko’s. His skin was hot and his eyes dark. He was too alive to die, but Nikko knew how fast that could change. “And this cure… can it also kill?”

  “It can, and there is no cure, so do not take much after making yourself sick.” Nightfall was deadly.

  “So in what order should I take my poisons?” Rodas’s eyebrow quirked up. His hand was still on Nikko’s.

  “That depend
s on if you get stabbed. If stabbed, drink the brandy within the hour. If you don’t get stabbed and drink the brandy, then purge and drink a fifth of what I gave you and wait a few hours.”

  “And if I don’t? If I sip brandy and act as though I know nothing of the plans afoot?”

  Nikko didn’t answer immediately. “I don’t want your death on my hands. I’m trying to obey the king but keep you alive.”

  “I would rather die by your hands. It won’t be painful? I’ve seen too many battle wounds turn bad.”

  Nikko shook his head. “No pain. A sleep, then death.”

  It was a kind way to die.

  Rodas lifted Nikko’s hand and kissed his knuckles. “Death on solstice night is not a good omen.”

  “Solstice is the dying of the old year and the starting of the new. The end of the reign of winter.” The death of an old king, the crowning of a new. “Some would call it fate.”

  “And some would call it treason.” Rodas released his hand, the smile gone. “Do not mention such things again.”

  Chapter 5

  WHEN NIKKO returned to the hall, he had with him a bottle of purgative he placed on the table for those who wanted to eat more than their stomach should hold.

  When the king beckoned him close, he leaned down to whisper, “It is done.”

  The poison was in the blue bottle of brandy, as requested. His heartbeat was erratic, and he alternately sweated and shivered, but it was nerves and fear, not poison in his meal.

  Rodas didn’t look at him.

  The talk of treason had left a sour note between them. Rodas would never do anything to harm his country or his uncle. He would be loyal to the end—which wouldn’t be far away if he chose to ignore Nikko’s advice. Nikko wanted to shake him and call him a fool. His death would help no one. Or was Nikko being selfish, blinded by desire?

  “There is one more thing, sire.”

  The king immediately bristled and glared at him as though Nikko were ruining the whole evening.