Poison Marked

by TJ Nichols

  “Why?” The guard glanced around the room, his gaze wary. He’d walked into a room where there were a thousand ways to die.

  “Too much food and drink makes people want something to ease their discomfort the next day.” It was a reasonable excuse, and nobles would come looking for something either before the hunt or after. “What do you need me for?”

  “The king has taken ill.”

  Chapter 7

  WITH THE guard behind him, Nikko ran through the palace to the king’s chambers. People got out of his way. There would be rumors, but there was nothing he could do about that now. He went to knock, but the guard pushed past and opened the door.

  There were cards and flagons of alcohol on the table, delicate sweets and dried fruit on platters nearby. Three nobles had the pallor of chalk. Fortin looked smug even though the tip of Rodas’s sword was near his throat. Two other guards had their swords leveled at Rodas. But Rodas didn’t look like himself. His head was tilted, and he had a squint. The king was leaning back in his chair with one hand over his stomach.

  Nikko focused on the king, but he was aware of every breath Rodas took. “What happened?”

  “Someone poisoned me.” The king fixed him with a glare, as though it were Nikko’s fault the stolen poison had found its way there.

  “Is everyone here poisoned?” Nikko glanced at the nobles.

  “We’re all ill. Perhaps the food is bad,” one of the nobles ventured.

  “We’ve all eaten and drunk the same thing,” Fortin mumbled.

  “No, we haven’t,” Rodas said. “I’m the only one who’s been drinking the king’s brandy. And Fortin—”

  The king clutched at his stomach and groaned. “Do something, poison master.”

  “I need to know who has eaten and drunk what. Send a servant for hot water and butter and milk. And get rats to test the food.” Where was the poison?

  “When I find the rat who did this, they’ll hang,” the king snarled.

  “Make them drink what they’ve brought.” Rodas didn’t lower his sword, but his hand wasn’t steady. “Fortin’s goblet was full when he arrived. He never refilled it from the flagon he carried with him. Check the flagon with the silver handle, poison master.”

  Nikko lifted the almost empty flagon. He sniffed it, dipped his finger in, rubbed the liquid between his fingers, and tasted it. There was the wolfsbane. A spoonful was enough to kill. There were six spoonfuls in the bottle that was stolen. Had Fortin put the whole bottle in the flagon?

  “How many glasses of wine have you drunk, sire?” A fatal dose, or could Nikko save him?

  “I don’t know,” the king groaned. Sweat beaded on his upper lip.

  “Three. He had three,” Rodas said through gritted teeth, as though standing was taking all he had. He gave Nikko a small nod.

  Nikko wanted to know how much brandy Rodas had consumed. Every glance he stole confirmed Rodas was indeed unwell. He’d admitted to drinking the brandy. Clearly he hadn’t purged or taken the cure as Nikko had begged him to. He couldn’t tell Rodas to drop his sword and save himself, no matter how much his heart screamed—not with the king gripping his stomach and needing help. His first job had to be to save the king. Rodas knew that.

  “Sire, you must throw up. All of you must purge.” He pulled out the little bottle of purgative and offered it to the king first. “It won’t take much. A sip.”

  A servant scurried for a bowl and tipped the dried fruit onto the table. No one cared about food anymore.

  The king took a sip and spilled some down his front. “My mouth feels strange.”

  Curse them all. “That’s a side effect. Get the poison out of your—”

  His purgative took effect. Nikko had a moment to feel pity for the servant holding the bowl.

  More servants carried the hot water, butter, and milk into the room. Nikko put the butter into the water and let it melt. “Get me fresh cups. Now.”

  People rushed to do his bidding. No one questioned the man who held the life of the king in his hands. But Nikko couldn’t enjoy the taste of power.

  The king took several gasping breaths. Then he fixed his gaze on Fortin. “Poison master, pour my son a glass of wine.”

  “Father, I am as ill as you. Rodas is out of his mind.” Fortin didn’t look ill. His face was its usual pallor. There was no sweat on his skin. No dilation of his pupils.

  “My mind is fine; my body has been betrayed. I drank a different poison.” Rodas lowered his arm, unable to keep his sword steady. He blinked and shook his head. Then he stepped back and crumpled to the ground.

  Nikko took half a step before he stopped himself. Rodas’s body hit the carpet and rolled onto the wood. Nikko’s toes curled in his boots. He wanted to rush to Rodas’s side and check his pulse. Instead he held his ground.

  Around him nobles threw up, and the sour stink of vomit filled the room.

  “Pour my son some wine,” the king yelled.

  Nikko moved since no one else did. He poured wine from the poisoned flagon with the silver handle into the king’s amethyst goblet and handed it to Fortin.

  Fortin didn’t take it. He smirked and knocked it out of Nikko’s hand. The goblet shattered on the floor.

  “Pour it down his throat.” The king struggled to get up to do it himself.

  “Sit, sire. You must rest. Take some buttered water.” Where were the clean cups?

  Fortin stood. “It’s too late. I will be king by dawn. My cousin and the men who supported him will be dead.”

  “Seize him.” The king was purple in the face. The buttered water wouldn’t do him any good. The poison was racing through his body and doing damage.

  The guards finally reacted and pushed Fortin into his seat. He struggled, but he was subdued. Nikko picked up the flagon of poisoned wine because no noble was able to do it and no servant would.

  “Open his mouth,” Nikko ordered.

  Fortin thrashed like a landed fish, but a soldier pinched his nose. Nikko didn’t hesitate. This was the man who wanted Nikko’s lover dead. Who’d poisoned the king. “You know this is poisoned, or you wouldn’t be resisting so hard.”

  He poured the wine into Fortin’s mouth. The prince gagged and tried not to swallow, but he failed. And as he gulped, Nikko poured the remains of the wine in.

  “All of it,” said the king.

  Nikko obeyed. He put down the empty flagon. As much as he despised Fortin, he took no pleasure in what he’d done.

  The soldiers released Fortin, and Fortin brought his hand to his mouth to make himself sick. “You will pay for this, poison master.”

  “Tie him to the chair so he can’t make himself sick,” the king barked. “You brought the poison into this room to kill me and my council. You saw a chance to remove an honorable soldier whose only crime was revealing your flaws.” His voice softened. “And I was fool enough to agree. You used my anger to wage your war, and in return, you poisoned me and revealed yourself as the poison thief, a crime in itself. The punishment, poison master?”

  “To consume what was taken.” No one was allowed to steal from a poison master. He’d learned that the hard way.

  A servant arrived with a dozen wooden cups. Nikko took one and filled it full of brandy. He filled another with buttery water.

  “Drink this to calm your stomach and then drink the brandy.” Nikko stood in front of the king with the two cups.

  “The brandy is poisoned, you fool,” Fortin said with a little too much glee. “My cousin has been drinking it all night.”

  Nikko swept his gaze to Rodas. He still breathed, though slowly. There was still time, as the sleep could last for days. He couldn’t lose Rodas, but he knew he couldn’t keep him either. They couldn’t sustain their affair.

  The king slumped back into his chair with a groan, and the smell of shit crept up Nikko’s nose.

  “Some poisons negate others. Trust me.” He offered the cup of buttered water. If the king refused, there was nothing Nikko could do, and the
king would die—and so would he. Then who would become king?

  The king drank and handed the cup back. “If I die, it will be on your head.”

  “I’m doing my very best to save you, sire.” He held out the cup of brandy and prayed the gods were listening to his pleas. Rodas had to live. The king had to live. He repeated the litany as though repetition would make it true. “If I wanted you dead, I wouldn’t be offering the one remedy I know of. If you don’t drink, the numbness in your face will spread, and you will be dead before dawn, as Fortin hoped.” He lowered his voice for the final words.

  The king took the brandy and downed it in a couple of swallows. For a moment Nikko thought the king was going to throw up again, but he won the battle with his stomach.

  “Get the king cleaned up and to his bed. I will be in shortly.” He needed to examine the other nobles in the room, but he wanted to treat Rodas.

  The king put his hand on Nikko’s arm. His last words were for Nikko only. “Treat him first,” he glanced at Rodas on the floor. “If you can.” The king looked at Rodas. “I still need an heir.”

  Nikko nodded. While the servants took care of the king, Nikko turned to the other three nobles—all older, trusted men who opposed Fortin’s temper tantrums and who openly praised Rodas’s skill in battle. In one night Fortin had planned to be rid of all those who stood against him. And Fortin would’ve laid the blame on him, claiming the poison meant for Rodas had been consumed by all. Nikko’s death would’ve buried the truth. The nobles were all conscious and in little immediate danger. Perhaps they’d sensed the brewing storm?

  “Ensure they drink the buttered water. Then brandy,” Nikko said to the servant who brought in the cups. “This brandy.” He tapped the blue bottle. “How much did Rodas drink?”

  No one answered. Rodas had drunk his poison and made sure to keep track of Fortin because he knew Fortin was power hungry and planning something.

  Nikko knelt on the floor and pressed his fingertips to Rodas’s neck, searching for a pulse. It was there but slow and uneven. Why hadn’t Rodas excused himself and made himself sick?

  But he knew the answer. Rodas hadn’t wanted to leave the king alone.

  Nikko pulled the other two poisons out of his pocket. He checked the color of both to make sure he was giving Rodas the correct one. A little nightfall to start to increase his heart rate. When he woke from the faint, he could purge and take another dose. But nightfall was one to treat with caution. There was no cure.

  While wolfsbane killed relatively quickly, there was a chance for a miracle. The king needed one. Nikko needed several. He let his fingers linger on Rodas’s neck and willed his heart to find its rhythm and beat faster. But he couldn’t sit with Rodas and nurse him through the night the way he wanted. He had to attend to the king.

  Reluctantly Nikko stood and glanced at the other three men. “How do you fare?”

  None of them looked happy. A bald man with a large white beard spoke up. “I’m well enough to sit and wait for the traitor to take his last breath.”

  “I’m young. I’ll fight this off.” Fortin struggled against the belts that had been used to bind him in place. “I will have the throne.”

  “Without the cure, you will die. What you stole from me is fatal.” Nikko picked up the brandy and the milk and a cup. “I must go to the king. If Lord Rodas wakes or you feel worse, call out.”

  Nikko walked through the dressing room and into the king’s bedchamber. He had been cleaned and put to bed by two very grim-looking servants. He didn’t envy them their jobs. Most people wouldn’t want his either.

  “Sire, how do you feel?” Nikko checked the king’s pulse and his eyes and listened to his breathing.

  “Like I’ve eaten rotten meat and my stomach no longer trusts me.” His voice was pained, and his guts would be cramping.

  “And your face and lips?”

  The king paused. “Are still numb.”

  Not a good sign. “Another dose of the brandy and some milk. I’ll sit with you.”

  The king drank obediently and leaned back. “I was blind to my son’s ambition.”

  “There is time for me to try to save him.” The king had ordered his son’s poisoning in anger and haste. And while Nikko didn’t want to save Fortin, he had to make the offer.

  “No. While Fortin fed me poison, Rodas counted my drinks. He knew.” The king held Nikko’s gaze, his eyes bright and sharp despite his illness. “You told him about the stolen poison. You also told him he was drinking poison tonight. For how long have you been with him?”

  Nikko looked away, but his heartbeat quickened. They were undone and would be tried for treason. “My duty is to you, sire.”

  “Your heart is with him. It was on your face when he fainted. He drank knowing he would die. Yet he still tried to protect me, even though he should’ve been the one stealing poison and getting revenge.”

  “That isn’t his nature. I offered him a cure, but he didn’t want it. He knew if it wasn’t tonight, it would be armed robbers or a knife to the neck at a later point. He’d made his peace with death.” The words cut his tongue, but Rodas was the kind of man who valued honor and loyalty above living.

  “You hadn’t.” It wasn’t an accusation. The king was trying to understand.

  “No.” Nikko kept his teeth pressed together and his breathing even. He wasn’t going to fall apart. If Rodas wouldn’t beg for his life, neither would he.

  “For how long have you two scuttled around?”

  Nikko winced. “Three years.”

  “He must marry and have an heir.”

  “We know. We know it shouldn’t have happened….” He didn’t want to apologize for being happy and finding love. He lifted his gaze and stared at the king. “But I don’t regret a moment of the time we spent together.”

  The king considered him for a moment. “Go and make sure he lives.”

  Chapter 8

  BY THE time the sky was lightening to gray, there had been only two deaths. One of the nobles had passed, his body unable to take the poison and the cure. The other two were alive but weak.

  Fortin was slumped in the chair, his body cooling.

  Rodas leaned against a wall, pale but alive. He’d managed to eat some bread and milk, and his pulse was steady. The king was resting, his fate uncertain.

  Nikko hadn’t slept, and his eyes were gritty.

  No one spoke unless Nikko asked how they were. The room was as silent as though they were all dead. It was unnerving. He tried not to look at Rodas. Their affair was no longer hidden from the king, but no one else needed to know.

  Had others noticed the longer-than-needed touch when he checked Rodas’s pulse? Or seen the relief on Nikko’s face when Rodas woke?

  From the courtyard there was the sound of hooves and jangling as stable hands got the horses ready for the hunt. If fate was with them, they would get the first kill of the new year, and it would bring good fortune. An unsuccessful hunt was a bad omen. Nikko got up and peered out the window. His fingertips brushed Rodas’s hair, and Rodas leaned his head on Nikko’s thigh. Lanterns lit the snow-dusted courtyard. Nikko glanced up at the sky, his breath clouding the glass. The sky was clear of storm clouds.

  The king usually led the hunt—or if not the king, his son. Nikko glanced at Fortin. He wouldn’t be leading anyone, not that he’d ever been much of a leader.

  Rodas reached up and grasped Nikko’s hand. “Someone must lead the hunt.”

  “You’re in no shape to be riding around the forest in the dregs of winter.” But if no one led the hunt, it would be a disaster, not just an ill omen.

  “Help me up so I may see the king.” Rodas kept his hand raised toward Nikko.

  “If you can’t get to your feet on your own, you can’t ride a horse.” He meant that as poison master and friend and lover.

  Rodas pressed his lips together. Using the wall, he got to his feet, paused to catch his breath, and looked at Nikko. “I will tie myself to the saddle if I
need to.”

  Nikko had no doubt. He’d seen determination on Rodas’s face before, but he much preferred smiles and laughter. This was the man he rarely saw, the one who had gained the respect of men in battle.

  Rodas made his way to the bedroom door and knocked. The king invited him in, and Rodas closed the door behind him.

  Every ear strained to hear what was being said, but Nikko could only detect low murmurings. Tension wrapped around him, and all he could think about was that the king knew. He wasn’t sure how he was going to live without Rodas.

  Eventually they were all summoned to the bedchamber.

  “We were all poisoned last night by my son, who let greed get in the way of good sense. Take to your beds until the return of the hunters. Rodas will ride for me.” The king beckoned to his servant. “Tell the groomsmen of the change and don’t tarry. Dawn is upon us.”

  The man took off at a trot.

  The official lie was close enough to the truth. Nikko couldn’t risk glancing at Rodas, no matter how much he wanted to.

  “Poison master, give my treasured nephew a tonic to get him through the day of hunting.” The king dismissed Nikko with a flick of his fingers.

  Nikko bowed.

  “Meet me in my chambers,” Rodas said. “I can’t hunt in last night’s clothes.”

  “Make haste, poison master.” The king was still full of orders, even from his bed.

  “I’ll return swiftly, sire.”

  “Yes, you will.” The king nodded.

  Nikko bowed and left the room.

  What tonic could he make? He didn’t want to give Rodas anything more when his body was still trying to rid itself of not one but two poisons.

  NIKKO KNEW where Rodas’s chambers in the palace were, even though he’d never visited him there. He knocked and waited.

  The door was opened by a disheveled servant who looked as though he’d just woken. Rodas was as unkempt, half-dressed in something more appropriate for riding. Last night’s clothing would need washing or burning. The sour scent of sweat and poison made Nikko wrinkle his nose in distaste. Rodas had no idea how close he’d come to death, and it was probably not the time to tell him.