Page 62 of Under the Lion Star

“How?”

“Mice. I feed everything to a mouse and wait fifteen minutes. It was fine, Alda, I swear it.”

“A mouse…” my voice trailed off.

Being mammals, they often had similar reactions to poisons that elves did. So, that narrowed down the list considerably. Carsilian would have killed the mouse almost immediately. A dose large enough to leave Leor unconscious would have worked its way through a rodent’s system in seconds.

“Hey, brother,” Atlas held Leor’s face in his hands, the king’s eyelids fluttering open. “You stay with me, okay?”

I ran through the adjoining washroom and into my quarters, gathering the various herbology kits that I’d amassed while working with Aunt Stella. My arms were full, but I stepped carefully, returning to Leor’s quarters where Atlas was growing more distraught.

“Mice,” I whispered to myself, opening the bags and canvas rolls that housed the tools of my trade.

Atlas crouched near me on the floor, his silver eyes rimmed with red and desperate for me to offer assurances.

“His nose won’t stop bleeding,” Atlas said quietly.

“It’s saccharil!” I gasped. “Mimics the symptoms of carsilian nearly identically. However, rats and mice have a natural immunity, meaning they’d remain unaffected. Gods above, fucking saccharil.”

“You can save him?”

“Yes,” I nodded, moving to gather the necessary ingredients as quickly as possible. “Someone knows you’ve been testing his food with rodents. They might even know that I would have tried to treat for carsilian. Which I would have done if you hadn’t told me about your food testing methods.”

The scraping sound of the mortar and pestle filled the room as I ground the needed herbs into a fine dust. Atlas sniffled, drawing my eyes up as he swiped away at the tears on his cheeks.

“He’ll be okay,” I assured him, continuing to work on the antidote. “He’ll wake up tomorrow with the worst hangover Fjorn has ever witnessed, but Leor will be alive.”

“They’ll just try something new,” his voice was hoarse. “They won’t stop until he’s dead.”

“Which is why you idiots should have included me on what was going on. If you hadn’t been at dinner, I would have treated him for the wrong poison, and we’d be down a king.”

Atlas dipped his head sheepishly. A low chuckle came from behind us, and I looked to Leor, whose mouth was curved in a lazy grin.

“You think this is funny, you gigantic ass?” I scolded.

He laughed, “That’s my girl.”

The words were slurred but settled my nerves all the same. I loved it when he said that to me. The statement was always filled with such pride. I smiled to myself, shaking my head at Leor before returning to my work.

Atlas stood, sitting on the bed next to Leor and whispering hushed words to his friend as he held his hand.

I added the powder to the plumint syrup, corking the vial and shaking it vigorously until the liquid turned to a rich brown. With a relieved sigh, I moved to where Atlas sat, the mattress dipping under my weight. The pop of the cork startled Leor as his heavily lidded eyes tracked to me. Another smile tilted the corners of his mouth.

“Drink this,” I commanded, placing the edge of the vial to his lips. “It tastes like shit, but beats dying.”

Leor chuckled but quickly turned to groaning as he swallowed down the concoction.

“You need to armor up,” I said to Atlas. “And guard that fucking door. Whoever did this will probably assume they’ll get news of the king’s death within a few hours.”

“I’ll get Liras and Orin as well,” Atlas said, standing but keeping his eyes on Leor.

“Have them guarding Sanna. You watch our door, and I’ll keep you updated on any changes to his condition.”

“Don’t leave him,” Atlas pleaded.

“Never.”

“That’s my girl,” Leor breathed on a lazy exhale.

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