Blood Succession (Knight Protector Book 4), page 8
“Oh Tee…that ship sailed a long time ago.”
“What do you mean?”
He smiled, though, a bleak and empty facsimile of the real thing. “Never mind what I mean. It’s done. I’m going to be married. And don’t worry – I will be happy. Maybe not right away, but you know me: my constitution doesn’t allow me to be miserable, not for long anyway.
“And there’s nothing like a palace and a lifetime of having one’s ass kissed to make up for missed opportunities, is there?”
She could get no more out of him. He reverted to his jocular self, parrying every query with a witticism or a sarcastic tone. So Terese gave up.
They arrived at the palace in the late afternoon. The sun was hanging about midway in the western sky, casting a bright, golden light on the city. The carriage took them up the long, winding road, to one of the upper tiers of the palace.
“Home sweet home,” Augustus said, with the same flippant cheeriness he’d been employing through the latter half of their journey.
A tall kaladorn waited for them at the step, and he bowed low. “Her Majesty is in the blue garden. She asks that you accompany me to her.”
“We are at her majesty’s disposal,” Augustus said.
“This way, sir. This way, ma’am.” The kaladorn led them past the palace, through a series of winding paths and manicured lawns, until they reached a small grove of trees.
“Is this the blue garden?” Terese asked. It seemed a kind of miniature forest rather than a garden.
The kaladorn nodded. “Yes ma’am. This way.”
He led them onward. The path wound through the trees in a long, circuitous route that took them through the perimeter. The trees were a winter-hearty deciduous variety, that shed its summer foliage in the fall, and grew new leaves for winter. Soon, it would shed the winter foliage, and the spring growth would start. The winter leaves were a deep, bluish purple, and the summer a bluish green, which, she supposed, is where the garden got its name.
Her guess proved half right. The trees did contribute to the name, but so did the rest of the plants in the garden. The space was not entirely a grove. Inside a thick ring of trees and shrubs sat a clearing, with a fountain and walks surrounded by bluish green accent grasses, and bushes covered in blue blossoms. There were seats there, too, and a bench swing.
Aria was on the latter, moving back and forth in a slow, easy glide. She rose when she saw the party approaching, and smiled.
It seemed a genuine smile to Terese – a little hesitant, a little shy, and also a little pleased.
She welcomed them and bade them to come sit with her. She moved toward a graceful wrought metal table with chairs around it. “I had them bring refreshments, in case you were hungry or thirsty.”
Augustus took a glass of wine, and she had a glass of water. Aria took wine, too. “Well, I’m glad you could both come.”
They assured her they were happy to be there, and they all settled in at the table. Augustus sat in the seat to Aria’s right, and Terese sat opposite her. For a long, awkward moment, no one said anything.
Then Terese remembered her mother’s words, and her absurd mission. She said, “It is a fine day for a picnic outside.”
At the same time, Augustus succumbed to the pressure, saying, “I see why they call this the blue garden.”
And Aria said, “I hope it’s not too cold for you. We can move inside, if you like.”
They all went quiet as quickly as they’d spoken, and then the queen laughed. Terese laughed too, and Augustus smiled. “I’m sorry, I didn’t hear either of you.”
Augustus shook his head. “I was only commenting on the blue garden. What were you saying?”
“I was asking if the temperature was alright, or if you preferred to move inside.”
He nodded and assured her that it was perfect. Aria turned to Terese. “And I’m sorry, I missed what you said as well.”
“I was commenting on what a nice day it was, actually.”
“Ah. Answering my question before I even asked it.”
“At the same time, really.”
She smiled, and then glanced down at a trio of covered plates. “Oh. Are you hungry? I have cakes, and fruit, and cheeses too.”
They declined, and Aria nodded. “I’m not hungry myself. But I wasn’t sure if you would be.”
Terese had come here feeling something like animosity toward this woman. She’d pinned her brother’s unhappiness on her. Now, she felt the sentiment had been unjust. Aria was nervous, as nervous as Augustus certainly – perhaps more so. This marriage wasn’t her idea, any more than it had been his.
So Terese decided to opt for honesty. “It’s very thoughtful of you, Majesty. But to be honest, I’m a little too nervous to eat.”
“Oh.” Aria blinked. “Uh, call me Aria, please. But yes – I suppose I am too.”
Augustus laughed and lifted his glass. “That’s what day drinking is for.”
Terese shook her head at her brother, and Aria laughed, tapping her own glass. “I suppose it is. But – we don’t have to do this, you know. If you’d rather not, I mean.”
“No, I didn’t mean that at all. I just meant – well, there’s bound to be a little awkwardness, isn’t there? We’re all strangers, or as good as.”
Aria nodded. “Strangers, in a strange business. You’re right, of course. But if it gets too awkward, I promise: we can sit in silence, and day drink until we’re all far too drunk to notice the awkwardness.”
Chapter Nine – Aria
They all seemed to relax after that – Aria too, like the pressure of expectation had been lifted from her shoulders. Augustus finished one glass, and then another. Aria moved on to her second, and Terese allowed herself a first.
“We must make some kind of effort, anyway,” Terese had said. “Besides day drinking, I mean.”
“Indeed. I believe father and mother expect us all to be fast friends by dinner time,” he declared, pausing from his third glass. “I think you and I, Aria, are supposed to be madly in love by time we part tonight.”
“The senator does seem a man of high expectations.”
Augustus laughed. He finished his glass and poured himself another. “If it’s any comfort, my beloved, I am a man of almost no expectations.”
She laughed too. “I’m not sure that’s much of a comfort.”
“Perhaps not. But I am disappointed less, at least.”
“You see, beloved, I am already learning a good deal about you.”
“Good gods, I hope not.”
“You’re facetious.”
“Of course. But – at risk of offending you, my dear – that’s not much of a revelation. I would be disappointed if you hadn’t noticed.”
“You deflect with humor when you’re uncomfortable.”
He laughed but said nothing.
“Am I wrong?”
He grinned at her. “I didn’t say that. But allow me to observe something in return.”
She nodded. “Alright. Do your worst.”
“You are lonely here.”
She blinked and flushed a little. Then, she laughed in turn. “I’m not sure how you conclude that, Augustus. I scarce have a moment to myself these days, from waking to sleeping.”
“I don’t mean that you lack human contact, but that you lack contact with anyone close to you. You have no friends here.”
It was true – so true, that it surprised her. “I hope that is not the case,” she prevaricated.
“You should have friends, Aria. People you trust. You must have some from your home. You should bring them here, if they will come.”
“Senator Crassus believes –”
He snorted. “Senator Crassus believes in what benefits Senator Crassus. Not in what benefits Aria.”
His frankness rather surprised her – and, if his sister Terese’s expression was anything to go by, her as well. “I…I’m sure the senator has the state’s interest at heart.”
He laughed at that. “I hope that is politeness on your part, and you are not really so naïve as that, Aria.”
“Augustus,” Terese said, her tone sharp. “You’ve had too much to drink, brother.”
He glanced at his glass, and then drained it.
“Perhaps your sister is right,” Aria said.
He shook his head. “You need to consider your own interests is all. You have ideas, and you think for yourself. You’ll find that’s in short supply here. My father says you have all kinds of ideas about reform. If you mean to see any of it through, you need to stop relying on men like Crassus, or Rufus, or any of them.”
Aria felt that Augustus must be very drunk indeed to speak so freely about his father. She tried again a polite demurral. “I am new to all of this, Augustus. I must seek counsel somewhere.”
“If you seek counsel from them, you may as well give up your plans for reform. They’ve spent their entire lives protecting the status quo. They’ll never let you change anything.
“Haven’t you figured it out by now? This whole business with me: other than improving the standing of my father’s house, I’m supposed to distract you.” He laughed bitterly, and a little manically. He was definitely drunk. “My charms, you see, are supposed to sweep you off your feet, so you forget all about things like running your country.”
He paused to drink, and Terese and Aria exchanged glances. The former seemed mortified, and the latter confused.
He drained his glass and poured himself another. Terese got up and tried to take it from him, but he shoved her hand away. “Leave it, sister. I’ll drink if I want.”
“What do you mean,” Aria asked, “about you distracting me?”
“What, is it not working?” He laughed again, and Aria took a long drink from her own glass.
“Are you telling me that Senator Crassus meant for this relationship to distract me from my rule?”
“My brother is drunk,” Terese protested.
“But is he lying? Is he wrong?”
She didn’t respond, which was, in its own way, a response. Aria drained the glass, and then refilled it. “I see.”
“You see, my dear? It is better to have no expectations, unless they’re evil. Expect the worst, and you’ll usually have the satisfaction of being right. Expect nothing, and you won’t be disappointed.”
“I’m terribly sorry, Aria,” Terese said. “But my brother is intoxicated. I need to get him home.”
“Why? So he won’t tell me the truth – like you don’t tell me the truth?”
Terese blinked and started to assure the queen that she had no idea what she meant. Augustus laughed. “Oh, you don’t know the half of it.”
“I have a pretty good guess. You don’t like me, Terese. I saw that the other night. You think me a fool, I suppose.”
“No, of course not.”
“I saw your face at dinner. You despise me.” Aria shook her head. “You weren’t lying, Augustus: I have no friends here. None at all.”
“I don’t, Aria. Of course I don’t despise you. If you want the truth – I don’t like the idea of this marriage. I don’t think it makes my brother happy. But I don’t despise you for it. If anyone’s to blame, it’s Crassus.”
Aria took a long draught from her glass. “Ah. My good friend and confidante, Crassus. ‘I will support you in whatever you choose to do.’” Terese regarded her with a confusion that irritated the queen. “Your father, something he said to me. Another lie.”
Augustus laughed, or rather, giggled. “He’s very good at that, my father.”
“Lying?”
He nodded, and she scowled at her glass. It was empty now, somehow. She didn’t remember drinking it all. She wanted more, but she wasn’t quite sure she could lean forward to get a refill without falling out of her seat.
She wasn’t drunk. She knew that. She’d only had two glasses of wine. Or was it three? It didn’t matter. She would have needed a lot more than that to reach a point of intoxication. Still, her head swam, and she wasn’t quite sure of her balance.
And her heart hurt. She’d trusted Crassus, even though she’d sworn to herself that she’d trust no one. His appearance of openness and guilelessness had taken her in. She’d pledged herself openly, just this morning, to wed his son. Gods, but she was a fool.
She reached for the decanter and swung wide. She blinked and tried again. This time, her hand connected with the neck of the bottle, but she was moving too fast and too hard. Wine spilled every which way, and the crystal clattered off the table onto the stones below.
Terese jumped backwards, out of the spill zone. Augustus didn’t move. He just sat there, laughing manically. His laughs mingled with the sound of sloshing liquid and shattering crystal.
Aria watched the shards of glass mingle with the dark liquid, and she started weeping. She wasn’t sure why, exactly. But it felt like the weight of the last two weeks had collapsed in on her all at once. She was alone and friendless, like Augustus said. She had been a fool. She’d played right into the hands of men who meant to manipulate her.
She pushed to her feet suddenly, angry and desperate to get away.
It was the wrong thing to do. The swimming sensation returned. She heard something clatter, and break. My glass. She’d dropped it.
She reached out a hand to steady herself and drew it back just as suddenly as something sharp bit into her flesh.
Augustus was still laughing. “You’re drunk too.”
Terese, meanwhile, was scrambling around the table toward her. And it was a good thing. A moment earlier, and she might have sent the other woman away as brusquely as her brother had. But right now, her knees were buckling under her, and the whole world seemed to be spinning.
She was vaguely aware of hands on her shoulders. Then her legs gave out. The garden flashed by her eyes, and she found herself staring up into a bright blue sky, and then Terese’s face.
She smiled. It was a very pretty face, with big, dark eyes and strong features framed by curls. She might have said something along those lines. She knew she was thinking it, but she couldn’t be sure if the thought ever left her mind. She found herself rapidly growing less sure of – everything.
Terese was talking to her. She heard her voice. “Aria, what’s wrong? Are you ill? Augustus, help me.” She kept talking, but the words faded until they made no more sense than the singing of the birds in the trees all around them.
Aria blinked up at the sky behind Terese’s head. It seemed to be getting darker, like a storm was rolling in. But there were no clouds. She wondered how long she’d been there. Could it be evening already? “I don’t feel well, Terese. I think something’s wrong.”
She didn’t know if she said it or thought it. And she didn’t know if Terese responded in any way, because she closed her eyes and didn’t open them for a long time.
And when she did, she wasn’t outside anymore. She was in a grand marble room filled with garish electric light. A familiar room. My bedroom. She was, in fact, laying in her bed at that moment. But the light seemed brighter than she remembered it, like it could burn straight through her corneas into her brain. She groaned and shielded her eyes with a hand.
A voice sounded very suddenly beside her bed, and she glanced up. There was a man there, a man she didn’t recognize, moving quickly to the side of the bed. Which naturally alarmed her. What was a strange man doing in her room?
She pulled herself up onto her elbows and started to cry out. There would be guards posted outside her door, she knew. They were always there and had been since the first time she stepped foot into the room.
The man paused and raised his hands in a placating fashion. “It’s alright, Your Majesty. You’re alright. My name is Nevio. I am your physician.”
She paused, trying to remember the sequence of events that had led her here. They floated around in her head like thunder, painfully present but intangible. “Physician? Am I ill, then?”
“You were poisoned, my lady. You almost died – you and your friends.”
That, of course, hadn’t been the response Aria anticipated. She stared at the man, shocked and confused. He was young and handsome, with bright eyes and a pleasant face. She studied his manner of dress, which was ordinary enough: a seasonably appropriate woolen tunic and linen trousers underneath. A band of gold around his right bicep told her that he was a slave, and the manner of symbol on it further confirmed his profession: the standard snake entwining a staff used by medical men, free and enslaved.
She relaxed her posture, which provided temporary relief to the pounding in her head. Motion had exacerbated the problem. “Poisoned? What do you mean? How? And by whom?”
The young man smiled at the barrage of questions. “As to the whom, I’m afraid I cannot say. It is being investigated as we speak, but I know no more than that.
“For the how, it was administered in your wine. And, though the decanter broke before I could see it, since your friends are exhibiting similar symptoms, we can assume the decanter at least was laced. Perhaps the entire amphora from which it was drawn.”
“Laced with what?”
“I do not have the poisoner to confirm it yet, but I believe it is red asp nectar. The red asp flower grows on the Ignis islands, quite commonly. Its appearance, I understand, is long and – well, serpentine. Its nectar is not a poison, not on its own. Some of the islanders actually use it regularly as a sleep aid, and it is quite effective. We prescribe it here, for patients who can afford it. The cost of import is not light. But there are no side effects.
“Unless you mix it with alcohol. Then, it exaggerates the effects of the drink. It makes the body ten or even twenty times as vulnerable. The more you consume, the stronger the effect.
“Essentially, Majesty, you and your friends were dying of alcohol poisoning.”
She shook her head and was rewarded for the injudicious movement by a wash of pain. “It’s not possible. We only had a glass or two. Well, in my case, perhaps more than two. But not enough to poison me, Doctor.”
“I know. I pumped your stomach. You had more than two glasses.” He smiled at her white lie. “But certainly not enough to do you harm – except that I believe your wine was laced with the nectar. I will be able to confirm that when they find the poisoner. I’m sure your High Protector’s inquisitors will get the truth out of him.”
