Page 61 of Under the Lion Star

No one seemed to care, preferring my wife as a conversation partner. She knew so much random information on a myriad of topics, and I couldn’t help but wonder why she had never attended university as her sister had. The Helners had the means to afford it, but I’m sure she had her reasons.

“The new jobs for the soldiers have been well received, your grace,” Merhan said to Zialda with a smile.

“I’m pleased to hear that,” she bowed her head. “It will be good to help them find their new paths.”

“We should have them continue their training,” Lord Gamril offered. “Our soldiers ought to be ready to head back onto the field the moment they’re needed.”

“They won’t be needed,” I stated plainly.

“My king–” Atlas’s father was cut off by his son’s glare.

“I’m confident about our meeting with King Doran,” Z interjected, her voice light and airy. “I think we can all agree that keeping the peace with the humans is our top priority.”

Gamril and Corrin shared a look, which both Atlas and I noticed.

“Of course, your grace,” Corrin placated.

“I’ve never been across the Garam Sea,” my wife stated, sensing the tension in the room. “I went to Hinterholm once as a child, but other than that, I’ve always remained around Galvord.”

“The realm is a lovely place,” Merhan smiled. “I’ve always wished to visit Krannol. I imagine the human capital differs from our own.”

The lords began to regale my wife with tales of various towns they’d visited throughout Krannar, discussing the differences in architecture and culture. Zialda listened with genuine interest, and I wondered if we would ever have Fjorn at a stable enough place where I could travel with her. I wanted to show her everything.

“I’ve learned that my sisters are friends with your daughters,” she said to Corrin.

“Yes, the twins often come around. They all went to school together. Lovely girls.”

“I don’t know about that,” she laughed.

“Prince Orin and Princess Sanna aren’t going to be joining us?” Lord Merhan asked, setting my nerves on edge.

“Liras and Orin took Sanna into the city to run a few errands for me,” Z stated.

She was lying. The three of them were still in the castle, but I didn’t want to risk their safety if one of the men in attendance was the snake lurking in the shadows. As much progress as Orin had made, I still needed to guard him carefully. Should his secret get out, and it be known that I had harbored him, it would spell the end of my reign.

My head began to swim, and I frowned at my cup, which I knew contained only water. I rarely imbibed, letting Atlas consume enough alcohol for the both of us. Dizziness hit me in waves, each crest causing my thoughts to blank.

“This was a lovely meal. Thank you for joining us for a more intimate celebration of our union,” Zialda said after finishing her dessert. “But I’m afraid I’m going to steal my husband for now. Newlyweds. You understand.”

Her tone was rife with fake niceties. My eyes slowly blinked, and I attempted to look at her to see why she was hiding her distress.

She continued speaking, but it sounded foggy, hollow. I couldn’t make out the words. I heard the sound of chairs scraping on the floor and footsteps exiting. The thud of the central doorway pulled me back into the moment, only enough to see Zialda’s worried face before mine. She turned to say something to another party. Atlas probably.

I was moving but not walking, my limbs hanging limp as the environment around me shifted. Two panicked voices spoke to one another. My eyes pressed closed as I desperately tried to grasp onto reality instead of whatever dream world my mind was being lost to.

Chapter 19

Zialda

Atlas set Leor’s limp body onto the bed. I ran into the washroom, dampening several rags and making haste to give them to Atlas. He swiped at the blood seeping from Leor’s nostrils, his breathing ragged as he desperately tried to help his friend.

I’d noticed the moment something was wrong with Leor, his eyelids growing heavier as the lords and I carried on with our conversation. My mind sifted through all the potential causes of drunken behavior and nasal bleeding. My husband didn’t drink, never wanting to not be in complete control of his faculties.

“He’s been poisoned,” I grasped the hair at my temples, running through the symptoms to try and determine the best course of treatment. “Carsilian.”

That was it. Easily hidden in food, it resulted in capillary restriction that often caused nosebleeds and mental fog. A high enough dose could knock out a grown man, even one the size of Leor. It was easy enough to make, although approaching autumn, I wondered how someone could have traveled far enough south to harvest the components and keep them fresh during the journey to Galvord.

“We test all his meals,” Atlas rushed out.

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