Passion of the Different (19 page)

Chapter Twenty Eight - I, Carnivore

Ryan stopped only long enough to scrub his hands clean and get a new shirt from his quarters. He ordered the servant to bring him a clean plate, carving knife and fork. It arrived just as he finished up and ordered the puzzled fellow away. Both Merd'Fen and Zon'Jal gave a half disgusted promise not to say anything to anyone until
after
he spoke with Darya, which was to happen only shortly after his return. He didn't want the cat... or in this case, the moople, out of the sack too soon.

He carved the parts and took a sample bite of the roasted flank. It was delicious and his stomach rumbled out loud. This was the first true meat he had since waking up so long ago, he could have easily devoured it all in one sitting. Not today though, and probably never again unless he was alone. After making sure the pieces were arranged on the plate, he covered it with a fresh white pillow case from a small linen closet. He paid attention to everything, even when the servants stocked up common everyday items.

The palace staff pointed the way when he exited his quarters with the covered plate and he found Darya in the garden where she liked to have her breakfast most of the time. He walked in as Merd'Fen and Zon'Jal arrived. She must have demanded their presence after learning they were back from his little excursion. It was a good thing he hurried, the timing was near perfect. Both men were back in their palace armor and Zon'Jal had a fresh spear. They gave him a dark glance and looked slightly agitated at the plate.

"Is something amiss?" Darya asked all three as she sat down at her favorite table. She had seen the soldier's expressions and looked puzzled.

"No, my queen," Ryan said cheerfully, coupled with a proud look on his handsome features. "This is it, the final step, my dear. All you need to do is take one bite of what I cooked up, and then I can give of myself to you without hesitation or failure." With a flourish he uncovered the cooked meat and the bright clean fork was sitting next to the largest browned piece. He placed it before her confused dark eyes and her nostrils flared from the unusual odor.

"What is
that
?" she asked, unable to recognize it in its current state.

"The very food I gathered for you," Ryan explained, pretending to misunderstand. "Cleaned and cooked with my own hands." Then packing as much hope as he could into his baritone, "Just one bite my beautiful queen, please complete the courtship."

"But what
is it
?" She demanded, then focused on the two palace guards as Ryan's faked confused expression didn't vanish into an immediate answer. "You two were with him. Explain what this is. Now."

Her bold tone of command wasn't to be denied, and even though both men understood their positions as worthless underlings to their queen, they still blanched for a moment before Merd'Fen responded as apologetic as possible. "It's, um, my queen, that there is a dead cooked moople." Both royal guards hung their heads, an effort to gain sympathy before a harsh judgment.

Darya's eyes went back to the plate and her eyebrows shot up. Large dark eyes glared at the cooked meat, upper lip curled and every bit of color draining from her forehead on down to her neck. To her credit, she didn't slide back and away. In the distance a female servant who was watching and listening fainted on the spot.

"Is this some kind of
sick joke
?" Darya demanded darkly, looking at Ryan with renewed suspicion mixed with open hostility.

"Absolutely
not
," he responded seriously, lowering his own voice to show his honor had been offended by the remark. He didn't win respect from this powerful woman by cowering to her demands and he wasn't about to start now. "This is a
good
meal. My people call this
baked
rabbit
, and it's a dish fit for royalty." To make his point, he reached down, grabbed one of the smaller thighs and bit off a large chunk of cooked meat. He chewed with honest delight from the flavor and swallowed, took another fast but smaller bite and talked around it. Damn, it
was
tasty! "I would never bring you food I wouldn't eat myself. What's the problem here?"

"Everybody out!" Darya commanded. "Everybody but you!" Her eyes were like ebony knives and they stabbed at him from under two angry eyebrows. The royal guards and everyone else were more than happy to comply, two of the staff stopped long enough to grab the hands of the fainted woman and pulled her through the servant's side door with them.

Once everyone was gone, the queen covered her face for a moment with both hands and collected herself. Her tone was surprisingly normal and her features smoothed out when she lowered them and told him seriously, "If you were anyone else..." She almost didn't finish her line of thought, riled by the situation but handling it as calmly as possible. "Anyone of my people would have known better, but you're not of my people." Then after another moment of reflection on this horrible situation, "So, you're Elerian wife was able to do this part?"

"Of course," he said, matching her tone.
Always speak to her on her level
, his inner voice prompted,
don't over do it
. "She did look a little pale at first. I simply thought she didn't like rabbit. Or moople, as your people call it. She ate one little bite and that was all she had to do."

"Your people eat cooked meat a lot?" Darya's eyes would flare a little less each time she glanced down at the plate. Then she would look back to him, then back down again at the roasted meat. She was trying to get used to the idea and finding it extremely difficult.

"Daily," he replied, then sighed. He had a moment's internal panic. What if she actually did it? What if she went ahead, swallowed her culture down with a bite of meat and then expected him to perform in bed that very night? She was as stubborn as she was powerful, but his plan required a little more than mere rejection of his offered type of food. He needed her to try to eat it and fail. If she did succeed in eating even the smallest bite, he would have to change his plan. With a pang of reluctant regret, he realized he might have to strangle her in the bed chamber after all.

Some of those alarmed thoughts must have shown on his face. She misjudged his expression of course, for concern about her. She told him slowly, "I know this is a huge let down for you, but give me a moment to come to terms with this development, Lord Za'Ryan." She picked up the fork and regarded the meat again. Her hand started to tremble slightly and she rolled her eyes at her own inability to spear any of it. "Damn it, if an Elerian
peasant
can do it, then I can do it." She hesitated again while regarding the plate.

"Here," he said gently. "Let me help." He took the fork from her and stabbed some of the moople meat. It was slightly stringy but tender and came apart easily. Using his fingers, he pulled the stabbed segment in half, making it into a much smaller bite. He popped what he held into his mouth, and with the remaining smaller morsel on the fork, he placed it into her hand. He could feel her fingers tremble as he chewed and swallowed, then gave her an encouraging smile.

"Please," she said while looking at him, trying very hard to sound sweet through this situation. "Don't eat anymore, because it's the most horrible thing I've ever seen anyone do." Then her eyes traveled to the fork in her hand. The meat wad was there, like a nightmare that somehow made it into the real world.

Darya's expression went completely blank, then her eyes locked with his own. Not looking at the meat, she opened her mouth and slowly brought the fork inside. Looking at him as if he was some type of anchor for sanity, she closed her mouth. This was the moment of truth and he wasn't robbed of the intended reaction. Instead of chewing and swallowing, she got a horrified look as the meat texture and flavor hit her senses. Her stomach churned and she quickly turned her head to the side and vomited all over the floor. She lost her entire vegetarian breakfast and the fork fell from her hand, forgotten. The bite of meat ended up in the chunky puddle of putrid bile by the table.

Ryan did his best to look upset while cheering deep inside his mind. He protectively slid the plate of meat away from her and wore the deepest frown his face could conjure. While she recovered and spit out the pungent taste, he started a slow pacing back and forth with his chin on his chest. His eyes were hard, expression dark.

"How can I do this for us?" he growled to nobody in particular. "This is highly upsetting. My wife's life is on the line. My life is on the line." Then he gave her a glance. "The loveliest queen any man can set eyes upon can't eat what I provide, my body simply won't perform if we were to slip into bed together," he lied, then continued to stammer on purpose. "I did everything I could, I kept my end up, I've..." she cut him off at last.

"It's me, not you," she said slowly. Her features pinched for a moment as she took his arm and walked them both away from the mess she had made on the floor. "You're right, you did everything you promised and I couldn't follow through." Another pinched look. She wasn't used to self blame and it felt alien to her. Then the stubborn side of her evil personality took over. "Nothing's changed however, Lord Za'Ryan. I still need an heir and you're the only man I want for the job. The deadline won't be changed because of this."

"I can't control what you do or don't do," he countered, internally felt the irony of that statement as he was manipulating her with those very words. "I wouldn't dream of even trying. Maybe the idea of eating moople will be easier on you say, tomorrow, after you've slept on it. I wish it was as simple as being seduced by your beauty or we wouldn't be having this problem."

"Why tomorrow and not next week?" she blurted, bitter disgust coloring her voice for a moment.

"After tomorrow the meat won't be safe to eat anymore. It spoils fast," he explained, voice suddenly gentle as if concerned for her health. "If we wait longer for you to adjust, I'll have to go hunting again. I'll have to catch, kill and skin the moople, then cook it for you. Then I have to dice it up on a plate to..."

"Point taken," she said, cutting him off again. Then she shivered. "I don't think I could stay very long in your homeland, Lord Za'Ryan."

"It's not as bad as you think," he replied, then changed the subject so he wouldn't have to fabricate more lies to hide his messed up memory. "I'm pretty stressed over this my queen. Do you have a local apothecary where I could buy a tonic to help me calm down?" He already knew there was such a place, but had to keep his powers of observation hidden as much as possible.

Darya held up her hand and a watchful female servant from afar bustled up. "Take him and a small amount of coin from the treasury to the apothecary and buy him what he wishes," the queen ordered. "Be back within an hour or else." She didn't have to elaborate and the lady nodded her complete understanding, not even daring to verbally reply.

"This way," the servant encouraged, then gave him a pretty smile. She turned and made sure he was following her. Ryan stole a glance backwards and noticed Darya with a hand to her forehead and muttering to herself. Good. She was mulling the incident over and trying to find some reasonable option, which he would gladly provide soon enough.

Chapter Twenty Nine - The Drug

Pale light red hair and his pointed ears sagging with advanced age, the old alchemist sized his new customer up carefully, internally trying to make the correct calculation and failed. "Can you tell me about how much you weigh a little more accurately?" his voice almost squeaked. In his mind the fellow was too big to be real, but there he was living and breathing before him.

"I'm guessing between two hundred fifty to three hundred pounds," Ryan replied, doing his best to comply. Then his features lit up as he realized how he could get exactly what he wanted. "Can you mix it so any single light weighted person of your people would sleep very deeply for say, twelve hours? Then it might be strong enough to help me sleep for about six to eight."

The old man sighed and nodded. "I like your reasoning," he replied. "It'll take me a few minutes to mix the sleeping potion."

"Thank you," Ryan said, returning the polite nod. The old man bustled to the back of his shop through a doorway of hanging beads.

A customer who had been browsing the various jars that littered the interior of the store sauntered up to him easily. She had a scarf that pulled her light blue hair back into a pony tail and wore a lavender dress with a dark blue trim. She tapped Ryan's shoulder to get his attention and said, "I thought you told my queen you needed something to calm down, not sleep."

"Who in the hell are..." then he paused. Recognition sank in and he relaxed right away. "Nera, thank goodness. I’ve never seen you dress so differently like that and almost didn't recognize you. How did you know what I said?"

"I was in the
listeners
hidden balcony with them," she admitted. "You asked me to stay around a little longer and pay attention. I agreed to it if you recall. Look, you either trust me or you don't. I need to know what this little white lie means or I might put a stop to it. I don't like the queen either, but I'm loyal to the crown. You understand loyalty, yes?"

He looked around and then pulled her to the farthest corner of the shop. The servant had done as ordered and stayed outside to wait for him, so for the moment they were alone while the old man did his job in the back. "Yes," he told her in a loud whisper. "I do understand loyalty. I do trust you, Nera, but only to a certain degree. You must promise me that if I let you in on what's happening, you need to tell me right away or not if you intend to stop me. I need to know that as it will change how I must do things, but I warn you now, the way I want it means nobody needs to d
ie.
Hopefully."

"Fine," Nera replied back in the same whisper mode. "You deserve honesty on that account, Lord Za'Ryan. I'm listening."

Ryan laid out the rest of his steps and how he intended to leave. Nera's eyes went wide a few times as he spoke, then finally nodded her full understanding. "Thank you," she said when he finished. "I wouldn't have thought you such a deceptive man. Had I not been here and followed up, this would have fooled me too."

"You weren't supposed to know," he admitted kindly. "For your own safety at least, after I'm gone. The less you knew and did, the better a chance you wouldn't be suspected in any wrong doing by your queen."

"I see that," she replied, eyeing him carefully. "I'd not thought you such a considerate fellow. I don't know if I should be flattered or not that you cared to keep me so safe, being your jailor for so long."

"I wasn't in the dungeon by
your
orders, my lady," he explained with a friendly smile. "The brief times I had any respite in that dreary place was in your presence."

She batted away the mild compliment with a wave of her hand, her cheeks giving a hint of blush. "A few meals in a different room was nothing," she responded with intentional aplomb.

"Not to me," he told her seriously. Then Ryan got a glimpse of the old man coming out of the back room and he approached the counter.

"All done," he told his large customer. "I put in some mint tea to remove any bitter bite to the tongue, but this should do the trick." The small vial was placed on the counter and the cork looked brand new. "That will be seven copper, please."

"The servant with the coin is just outside, one moment while I get her," Ryan said, but Nera stepped up and tossed the coins on the counter.

"Please let me," she said in an impressed tone. "To see such a huge man like yourself in the flesh is worth every copper. None of the ladies in my steward shop will believe I actually got this close to you."

"You mean I'm becoming famous?" he asked Nera candidly, as one would address a curious stranger. He followed it up with a short polite bow of thanks while picking up the sedative.

"After that display of strength at the castle and the queen winning a race?" she retorted with a pleased squeak. "The whole city is just
buzzing
about you!"

"That's him?" the old man exclaimed, jerking his thumb at Ryan while giving her a jaw dropping expression. "Four darkwood logs at once? Incredible! I thought that some fancy lie spread about by a rich noble looking for attention."

Ryan was slowly retreating to the exit and doing his best to keep a friendly grin in their direction. Nera turned so the old man couldn't see the front of her face and her eyes flared as if to say '
get lost already',
then her head whipped back to the aged alchemist. "I think every inch of his body has a muscle attached to it. You should see him with his shirt off!"

As he went outside, he was impressed with Nera's stage skills and display of trust. He knew she accepted his plans because it didn't involve killing Darya or anyone else for that matter, though it could easily happen if there's a serious mistake. Subterfuge took time but the results were the most desired options available. He knew it and now she knew it. He didn't think Nera would betray him, she already had the opportunity several times and didn't take it.

The servant looked questioningly at him as she spotted the vial and her hand was still resting on the coin purse tied to her belt. "I got it free," he lied to her. "My advice is to take whatever fee you think this potion is worth as a personal tip and give the rest back to the treasury."

"Your advice is well placed," she said, perking up. "This way, my lord." Not 'my prince', she was close enough to the Queen to know the difference between a blackmailed hostage and a royally respected man who is supposed to give the queen an heir to the throne. As they went back to the castle he internally reflected on his next move. Tonight was the night of his escape and if things went
wrong
, he would have very little time to get to Myra before the soldiers at the signal fire figured out it was filled with water instead of rock oil. If they got it lit before he could get to where they were holding her, then his worst fears would come to life. Nera didn't realize that if it went badly and the guards killed Myra, then he would revisit with such a vengeance that blood would flow in rivers. He hoped beyond all measure that wouldn't happen.