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Authors: Maggie Carpenter
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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,
“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,
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