The Warrior and the Petulant Princess (7 page)

“Did she say how she knew?” the King asked softly.

“She said she could smell it,” Larian replied.

“This is not widely known,” he sighed, “but she has been gifted with her mother’s keen sense of smell. We must be very careful how we proceed.”

“If it was placed in her bowl it may well have been placed in yours as well. With your wife away, should something happen to you, the Kingdom would be vulnerable…perhaps it was also placed in mine to cause even further chaos, maybe even start a rift between Verdana and Zanderone.”

“Such evil,” Handerah frowned. “How to proceed? This is the question.”

“If we pretend to fall ill, perhaps the guilty party might make himself known,” Larian suggested.

“Perhaps, but that will take time, and there’s no guarantee that the man who steps forward is not doing so to save the realm, not harm it further. No, there is another way, and I believe that rests with my daughter.”

“Lizbett?”

“We must pretend we are not supping the soup because we are drinking and eating the breads and cheeses. In a moment you are going to make a grand gesture and ask Lizbett to dance to entertain the crowd, then you will escort her out of the room, ostensibly to have a quiet moment, but you will whisk her into the kitchen and she can put her nose to work. She will be able to smell who is carrying the poison. It will be an easy task to get the truth from that person before the powers behind him have any idea.”

“Sire, I do see risk, but I believe it is the best course of action. Let us clink our goblets and eat the bread, then I will fetch Lizbett and take her to dance.”

They laughed and joked as they raised their drinks, and Lizbett knew they’d quickly formed a plan. Much relieved she reached for some bread herself, covertly glancing around the room.

Was anyone watching them? Was someone eager for them to sup the soup? She saw nothing, but if her father had a plan she was confident the guilty party would soon be uncovered.

CHAPTER SEVEN

A
s Larian moved Lizbett across the dance floor he whispered the plan, and when the musicians came to the end of the song they bowed before the crowd, then taking her hand he led her from the room. There were whispers and giggles, and while the King was smiling broadly he was darting his eyes at the faces before him; in their midst were traitors, but he couldn’t fathom who or why.

Lizbett hurried Larian down the empty passageways to the kitchen. It wasn’t far, sitting just behind the banquet room chamber, and as she was about to burst through the door Larian stopped her.

“You walk around the kitchen, as though casually giving me a tour, and when you smell the culprit don’t say anything, just show me with your eyes then leave the rest to me.”

“But I-”

“Lizbett!”

“Sorry, yes, Larian, I’ll do as you say.”

Taking a deep breath she pushed open the heavy door and moved inside. A thousand fragrances washed through her, but nothing distasteful, nothing that smelled like the tangy foul thing that had alerted her. She began to move slowly around the large kitchen, smiling and nodding as the cooks and servants did their work, but still she could not detect the aroma.

Was I mistaken? Was there no such smell? No, I’m sure I…

Her thoughts were abruptly interrupted by the vaguest scent, and it was wafting from the alcove that led into the chamber. Larian was behind her, and turning she looked up at him, then nodded her head towards the door.

Not sure what might lay in wait on the other side, he moved in front of her, pulled the latch and allowed the door to swing open; to his surprise there was only Falayla and Starling, still bare-breasted, seated at a small table eating their meal. Without warning Lizbett swiftly moved past him; her nose had detected the aroma and it was leading her directly to Falayla.

Almost upon her, Lizbett wanted to grab the girl by the hair and drag her from the room; she wanted to slap her and call her every name that came to mind.

“Princess!” Larian called sharply, causing her to stop and spin around to face him.

“Larian, it’s-”

His aqua eyes glinted across at her, his message clear,
stop and come back here at once.

Starling stared at them both, confusion written across her face, but when Larian glanced at Falayla all he saw was fear, guilt and shame. He flashed back to the moment just before he and Handerah had entered the banquet hall; she had wanted to warn him but terror had gripped her.

He could see Lizbett was still fighting her rage and moved quickly to her side.

“Lizbett, would you please return to the banquet,” he whispered urgently in her ear. “Be sure to be all smiles. Tell your father what has transpired, and make sure knows that I’ll be back to join him very soon.”

Her need to remain and interrogate the culprit surged through her, and she stared at him intently, silently pleading with him to let her stay, but his resolve was unyielding.

“Go,” he said firmly. “I will deal with this.”

Realizing any argument was futile she frowned angrily, and was about to march away when Larian smiled down at her.

“Lizbett, you saved the day,” he breathed. “Now keep your head, smile, act happy, don’t alert anyone. There is evil afoot and it will be watching.”

She took a deep breath, and sighing heavily she nodded her understanding.

“I know what to do,” she replied, and hurried from the room, closing the door behind her.

“Sir, what is all this? Is there something wrong?” Starling asked completely bewildered.

“I just need a private word with Falayla,” he replied calmly, “but you may continue your meal. Falayla, if you would please step on the other side of the curtain with me?”

He could see her dread, and as she attempted to rise from the table she was unsteady on her feet.

“It’s all right, I’m sure you have been badly used,” he said softly as he reached out to help her, and wrapping his muscled arm around her shoulder he allowed her to fall against him. “Starling, do not leave this room. If anyone asks where Falayla has gone, no matter who it is, you tell them she had to leave for a moment but you don’t know where. This is extremely important, do you understand?”

Starling gazed at the handsome warrior. Whatever was going on she didn’t care; she’d do whatever he said.

“Yes, Sir, I understand. You can count on me.”

“Thank you,” he smiled warmly, and supporting Falayla he led her through the curtain and across to a grouping of chairs on the other side of the chamber, far enough away so Starling would not be able to hear their private murmurings.

“First, you have my word I will protect you,” he assured the frightened girl as he sat next to her on a settee. “I am sure you have been scared for days. Am I right?”

“So scared, Sir, so, so scared,” she whimpered, the tears beginning to cascade down her face.

“Please, be strong now. You’re safe, you must tell me everything.”

“It was Farris,” she blubbered trying to compose herself. “When he picked me out of the girls for serving today, I was so surprised because I’m not like the other maidens. I’m shy, I didn’t really want to-”

“What did he say, what did he do?” Larian said urgently.

“It wasn’t just him. There were three other men with him, and they stood around me. They…they…oh, the shame of it,” she sobbed.

“Tell me, quickly,” he pressed. “We have so little time before he comes to find you. He will have you try again.”

“I’m sorry…they told me if I didn’t do what they said they would each have me, both back and front,” she whispered, “but even then I refused. I would never hurt the King, never. You must believe me.”

“I do,” Larian assured her. “Keep going.”

“So then they said if I didn’t do their bidding they would do the same to my mother, and my little sister, and they would kill my father and burn my family’s home. It was so terrible,” she sobbed, and overcome she dropped her head in her hands.

“He is a fiend,” Larian hissed. “Please, Falayla, take hold, I will protect you and your family.”

“But he has soldiers at my home,” she quivered. “If I do not carry out his orders…”

“Who were the other three men? Do you know?”

“I don’t know their names, but they’re here. They are all sitting together with their wives. They’re at the end of the table with Farris. The wives, I just remembered, I heard the men say their wives would have sport with the Queen when she returned.”

“What else?” he pressed.

“Um, a guard named Crellus, or Crullis, something like that, had a few men on his side, and that’s all they would need, just a few men.”

“This is so evil,” he growled.

“I almost drank the poison myself,” she declared, “so they couldn’t make me hurt the King, and the Princess…but then I feared for my family.”

Larian stared into her red, tear-filled eyes, and knew she spoke the truth; she would have taken her own life before killing the King, and would have but for her loved ones.

“Do you want to make this right? Do you want to help save the King now?”

“I have wanted to save the King,” she replied, her face crinkled with sincerity.

“Think, Falayla, since we did not partake of the soup, will he ask you to try again with another serving?”

“He already has, in the gravy,” she said slowly, “everything else is being taken out on big platters. He can’t use the cake, that will be part of the ceremony.”

“The ceremony! I’d forgotten about the ceremony. This is excellent. How did you put the poison in the soup?”

“When the server brought out the soup for the head table, I was supposed to take the tray and send him back to the kitchen for another bottle of wine and pour it in then, but I couldn’t bring myself to do it.”

“I don’t understand, didn’t you put in the bowls.”

“I opened the vial and a tiny drop fell into one of them, but only because my hand was shaking. When I couldn’t do it I thought I was condemning my family to a horrible death,” she whimpered, a fresh wave of tears spilling down her face.

“Falaya, you poor girl. What did you tell Farris?”

“That the boy came back with the wine before I had a chance. That’s when he said I was to pour it into your gravy boat.”

“So, you still have the vial?”

“Yes, I have two of them,” she replied pulling them from the folds of her skirt. “He gave me two in case I dropped one, or spilled it or something.”

“Excellent. Can you be brave for me? Just for a little while? I promise your family will come to no harm but you must do exactly as I say.”

“I will, Sir, I will,” she vowed.

“Good, now listen carefully.”

CHAPTER EIGHT

B
ack at the King’s table Lizbett had relayed the information, and Handerah laughed and joked as if she had just told him something highly amusing. When he saw Larian appear through the door from the chamber and whisk Farris from his seat to speak to him away from the other guests, Handerah was immediately filled with concern, but when he saw Farris grin and nod his head it was clear Larian was just being amicable, pretending nothing was awry.

Good, Larian, make jokes, act as though all is well. We can’t trust anyone, not even Farris, though I am tempted. He knows all the nobles intimately, he may have heard rumblings.

Handerah was eager to learn what Larian had discovered from the duplicitous maiden, but the warrior was talking with Farris at length. The King could see Farris was becoming somewhat restless, shifting his weight from one foot to the other, as though he needed to sit back down or had some pressing business. When Larian finally left him the King saw Farris frown deeply, then dart inside the banquet chamber.

Ambling slowly back to his chair, Larian settled next to the King and with a wide grin began to relay all the information he’d gathered; Handerah was aghast.

“What are we to do?” Handerah groaned.

“I have already hatched the counter attack, Sire,” Larian assured him. “You need not fear. No harm can come to any of us, at least not from poison, not tonight, but the plotters, they have an unfortunate end coming their way. This is what I have planned. If it meets with your approval I will do nothing. If it does not, it can be stopped.”

Quickly but in great detail Larian outlined his scheme, and when he finished Handerah nodded in agreement, then let out a heavy sigh.

“It is an excellent plan. It’s no wonder your Prince made you a Commander. You are not just cunning, you are insightful. It saddens me greatly that Farris would wish to do me harm, it is stunning news, but you’re right, he must be dealt with. I owe you my life, Larian.”

“It is Lizbett to whom we are indebted, Sire. Were it not for her nose…”

“Yes, my beautiful, willful daughter,” he said warmly, turning to face her.

Lizbett had been sitting quietly, too unnerved by what had happened to do anything. She wanted to be next her father, to feel the power of the throne; sensing her trepidation the King leaned in and whispered in her ear.

“All is well, child. Do not fear, this will soon be over, sooner than you might expect.”

“Thank you, father. I do confess to feeling quite shaken.”

“You have a small task to perform. Are you up to it?”

“Of course,” she nodded, feigning a bravery she did not feel.

“It’s quite simple,” he smiled, and leaning in, whispered the instruction in her ear.

“Sire,” Larian said softly, recapturing the King’s attention when he’d finished talking to Lizbett, “you must keep her in sight. If there are other culprits not yet uncovered they may still try to take her. They may see her as a way out, a bargaining chip.”

“Yes, yes, you’re right, Larian. Never fear, until this business is over she will stay in my apartments.”

“I must send an urgent message to my Prince. If there is danger here, there may be danger in Zanderone as well. We do not know the extent of this treachery.”

“Yes, yes. When the ceremony is over. We must wait until then,” the King said solemnly. “Do you see that man, the one in the brown leather?” Handerah asked, nodding his head to the table opposite the one at which the plotters were seated.