Page 14 of The Prince

They probably wouldn’t have known they were poisoned. Well, actually, Char probably would have realized the second he tasted the dish, but since he hadn’t cooked, stirred, or otherwise helped prepare it, his passive magic ability to neutralize poison wouldn’t have kicked in. Maybe with Char’s help they would have reached a healer in time. Maybe. But thanks to Caro, they didn’t have to worry about it.

Braxton wasn’t sure whether Caro’s dismissal of their thanks was because he was shy—he was definitely far shyer than Clament, as Caro let himself be himself with the barriers down—or because he still didn’t think anything he contributed had value. His low value of his own self-worth, to Caro, meant the truth of everything he had accomplished didn’t matter; he only saw the negatives. Braxton desperately wanted to sweep Caro into his arms and hold him tight, to thank him for existing. Except, Caro wouldn’t understand Braxton. Not yet, at least, but Braxton was hoping as Caro threw off more of his terrible pastand slowly became more certain of his future that would change too.

Alina flew into the room, not bothering to knock, and glanced around, her eyes wide and frantic.

“Where is he? Is he okay?” she forced out between panting breaths.

“Caro’s fine. He’s not sick. Sorry for scaring you,” Braxton said quickly, holding out his hands in apology. “This was the most discrete way we could think of to get a healer to the royal wing without arousing suspicion.”

Alina frowned and straightened as she caught her breath. “What happened?”

“Someone tried to poison us all this morning. We believe they failed, but we’re hoping you could look us over to double-check?”

“Poison! Of course I can check. Were you one of the targets? Come here!”

Braxton obeyed, submitting to her green-glowing hands as she used her magic to check him over.

“You’re fine,” she said after a long moment. “Take me to everyone else, please.”

Braxton led the way out of Caro’s room and down the hall to the dining room. Three people in the off-duty uniform of the royal guard—brown pants and a white shirt—were leaning over the poisoner’s body when Braxton held the door open for Alina and then followed her inside. Braxton recognized Jensen, Fen’s second in command, but didn’t know the other two.

“Anything?” Braxton asked. Alina headed straight to the king and queen, her hands already glowing again.

“Nothing,” Jensen responded with a sniff of disgust. “It’s the same as when Roe tried to kill us. Dump poison into our food, then take a faster-acting version after discovery. I don’t know about this servant, but Roe had been with us for six years without any sort of hint she was a traitor. We still don’t know if she infiltrated to start or was turned later, and I doubt we’ll learn anything more from this servant.” He sighed. “Still, I’ll let you know if we do learn anything else.” Jensen waved at the other two soldiers, who started wrapping the body in cloth. Once they were done, the package definitely looked suspicious, but the body itself was concealed, and they left. Jensen hefted the tureen full of what was left of the fruit, all the filled dishes piled on top, then followed.

“Everyone is perfectly fine,” Alina called as she stood from where she had been examining Shairon’s kids and husband.

“Excellent. Thank you for checking,” Father said. “Someone summon Charmaine and our real breakfasts, and then we should discuss how we’re going to catch whoever comes to take advantage of our untimely deaths.”

“Jensen will investigate the servant,” Fen explained, walking to the door to no doubt pry Char out of the castle kitchens where, if Braxton knew Char, he had gotten distracted from his mission of delaying their breakfasts. He had likely ditched the less than stellar efforts of his chef cousin, Terrance, and was remaking their breakfasts from scratch. “I’ve summoned Zain to set up protection and to capture anyone who shows up. She should be here by the time we’ve finished eating.”

Braxton retook his seat next to Caro, gently resting his fingers overtop of where Caro’s arm leaned against the table edge, then turned to look at Alina. “Please, stay for breakfast. And for afterward. I think it might be good to have a healer of your talents on board to help us fight this.”

“Precisely,” Father added. “For now, let’s eat. Once Captain Zain arrives, we will go over the plan.”

Chapter Nine

CARO SAT ONa sinfully soft couch in the king’s solar, wishing he had his quilt to hide behind. Fen and the king were with some of Fen’s troops hidden in some sort of space behind the throne room. Shairon was in the nursery, with her own sword, her scholarly husband, to whom Caro had barely been introduced at breakfast, and a cadre of troops. The children were napping in the queen’s bedroom, down the hall from the solar. Braxton was off somewhere secretive, which aligned with his being Toval’s spymaster, but Caro wished he was sitting next to Braxton on the couch. Instead, Caro was sitting across from Ayer and the queen, both of whom looked like they were only waiting for a quiet moment to start interrogating him. More of Fen’s soldiers were in the room with them, and Caro was definitely getting side-eye looks from a couple who recognized him.

The clock chimed two in the afternoon, two quick bongs. “Healer Alina said the poison should have taken effect around now,” Queen Trina called. “Brace yourselves.”

Except, nothing happened. The last echo from inside the clock faded away, leaving them in silence with no sign anything might occur. Of course, them being attacked or the enemy coming to verify their deaths from the poisoning was only speculation. Seconds ticked into minutes, Caro sitting stiff withhis fists clenched, listening along with everyone else for the slightest hint of an imminent attack. A scrape of metal as a sword left its sheath, a tap of booted feet on stone, or even a whisper of voices as last-minute commands were passed. Why Caro thought he would hear any of that from inside a secured room, he had no idea, but as five minutes became ten and then fifteen, he strained his ears for even the slightest hint. Perhaps no one was coming, and all their preparations were for naught.

Caro fidgeted, realized he was showing his nerves, and forced himself to stillness, only to find a moment later he was holding his breath. He ought to be used to things like this, the dread-inducing anticipation of a coming battle and then the battle itself. He had experienced similar situations many times before, but from the Namin side, being forced to participate in battles and events out of a nebulous sense of obligation to a family that always hoped the latest fight they sent him to would be his last. This time was different. This time Caro wanted to live, and he wanted the new family he was hoping he was making to be safe as well. The waiting, the wondering where the attack was going to come from—presuming there was even an attack on its way—was excruciating.

Caro closed his eyes and reached out with his magic. He didn’t open his third eye, just let the power trickle free from its leash to sense anything nearby. He didn’t feel anything though. Ayer and the queen were at peace with themselves and the situation. The guards were anticipatory but aware they might only be there as a precautionary measure. The nurses watching the children were ready, daggers hidden but easily accessible. Behind Caro more anticipation could be felt, similar to that of the guards—a readiness to strike when needed, but waiting for a signal for attack, and therefore not yet a threat.

Except no one was standing behind Caro’s couch. Caro jumped up and spun to look at the line of bookcases stuffed full of books and tchotchkes.

“Caro?” Ayer asked.

“Is there a secret passage behind there?” Caro asked, keeping his voice low to prevent anyone waiting on the other side from overhearing.

“Not that I’m aware of,” Queen Trina replied, standing as well. “But this is the oldest section of the castle, so I wouldn’t be surprised if much of the original footprint has faded from living memory.” She waved the soldiers forward, although they were already moving. About half remained near the door, the rest spreading in a semicircle around the bookcases.

“They all must be writhing in agony right now, poor poisoned bastards,” Caro heard, although he was aware no one else in the solar could. “Let’s move.”

Caro’s third eye flew open, glowing gold and pointing out the imminent threat as his passive magic field jumped to the fore.

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