Series: Charmaine Pauls
Total pages in book: 74
Estimated words: 70056 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 350(@200wpm)___ 280(@250wpm)___ 234(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 70056 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 350(@200wpm)___ 280(@250wpm)___ 234(@300wpm)
Kian, who follows behind me, says in a voice that doesn’t carry farther than my ears, “You’d better clear the hall. Father isn’t in a state of rational thinking, and the guests shouldn’t see this.”
One look at my mother is enough to tell me he’s right. As far as the people and even the nobles are concerned, the royals are powerful and invincible. Showing weakness wouldn’t only hurt the pride of the person in question. It would undermine our authority.
A nod at a guard communicates my instruction. Quickly, he organizes a team to line the people up before escorting them out. The waterfall that gives access to the palace will remain in place. For now, I’m not allowing anyone to leave.
The hall starts emptying while I walk to the main table.
Vitai studies my mother with a concerned look.
“Aruan,” my mother exclaims when I stop next to her chair. “You’re alive.” She sags in her seat. “Thank the dragons.”
My tone is chilly. “What did you do, Mother?”
“I don’t know what happened.” She coughs. “I swear it on your life, my son.”
I raise a brow. “Is that why I’m alive but Elsie was almost killed?”
“Mind your tongue, Aruan,” my father says with all the venomousness of a red jungle toad. “You will not disrespect your mother.” Turning back to his wife, he says in a gentler manner, “Rest now, my love. You mustn’t exert yourself. Let Vitai finish his evaluation.”
Suno and Tarix stand at the edge of the table, looking on with big eyes. The only reason my father isn’t sending them away is because, as the son of a favorite sister, Tarix is my mother’s private secretary and protégé. Suno acts as my father’s advisor. He’s learned in every scroll and law that hold legal power in Zerra.
Vitai takes a terracotta bowl from the table and holds it to my mother’s lips. Under my father’s wakeful watch, she manages to take a few sips of water.
“What happened?” I ask.
“She’s showing mild signs of poisoning,” Kian replies.
I barely manage to hide my shock. “What are the symptoms?”
Vitai glances at me. “She’s having trouble breathing.”
It could be acting. I wouldn’t put it past her.
Kian, always quick to read my thoughts, says, “Look at her tongue. It’s purple.”
I go cold. That can’t be faked. Unless she used the petals of cardon flowers. They’re dried and crushed to die fabrics. But if she didn’t…
“Can you fix it, Vitai?” I ask as evenly as I can.
“Fortunately, this case is mild enough, so I’ll do my best,” he says. “She shouldn’t have more than a fever and chills for a few days. Judging by her symptoms, she must’ve had light topical contact only. She’s lucky she didn’t ingest any.”
“How could this have happened?” Tarix asks, his voice close to breaking.
“That’s what I’d like to know.” My father’s expression darkens. “And I will find out.”
So will I.
I turn to Kian. “Read the mind of every person who entered the palace today.”
He nods grimly. “I was planning on it. It’ll take time, though. There must’ve been over five moon cycles of people at the banquet alone.”
My father gently arranges my mother’s hands in her lap before getting to his feet. “Go. Now.”
Kian leaves without another word.
“Do you have any idea how this could’ve happened?” I ask my mother.
She’s my main suspect, but would she truly have poisoned herself intentionally to appear like a victim to hide her guilt? It’s unlikely. The chances of living after exposure are too uncertain.
“I made the infusion myself,” she says, turning her face toward me with effort. “Tarix can vouch for that.”
“That’s true,” Tarix says. “No one was allowed in the kitchen while your mother prepared the precious potion.”
“Obviously, the poison wasn’t in the potion,” Vitai says. “Or else you’d be dead, Aruan.”
“Then how did your mother come in contact with it?” my father asks, his face a thunderous mask.
“It must’ve happened when I straightened the place settings,” my mother says weakly. “I was annoyed with the maids for not setting the table properly. Elsie’s goblet was slightly out of line with the others, so I put it back in place.”
“Where did you touch the goblet?” Vitai asks.
“I picked it up by the stem. It was slippery, as if someone with fatty hands had touched it. I almost dropped it but managed to catch it before it hit the table. I polished the stem with a cloth and put the goblet back in the right place.”
“Could you have touched the inside of the goblet when you caught it or maybe while you polished it?” Vitai asks thoughtfully.
My mother blows out a tired sigh. “I suppose that’s possible. Yes, I most likely did.”
“That’s enough.” My father bends down and picks my mother up in his arms. “I’m taking her to her quarters. She needs to rest.”