Page 14 of Poisoned Empire
She’d been forced to marshal her terror and use the best-known flirtation technique afforded a woman—to ask him all about himself and act fascinated. After a time, he stopped directing his attention toward her sisters and seemed genuinely pleased that someone found the minutiae of his job so compelling.
It was while downing her fourth glass of wine, and listening to the mind-numbing necessities of proper land management practices in the Emerald Province, that a ray of hope hit her square in the chest. Past Nicephorus’ shoulder, an immaculately dressed Selene paraded her way to the prince’s table. She fought back tears of relief and the sudden urge to sweep the miniscule mage up in her arms.She’s alive! But what was she doing approaching the prince so recklessly? Surely, she wasn’t meant to make unnecessary waves? Iliana’s world tilted on its axis as her friend grabbed an empty seat from a nearby table, dragged it across the gleaming floors and sat herself down right next to the prince. Uninvited. Like a madwoman.
“Domina, do I have something on my shoulder?”
“Oh, no! It’s just, um, I believe something rather strange is happening...”
Nicephorus turned around with a puzzled expression and nearly fumbled the silverware in his hand, his face ashen.
“The poison mage,” he gasped.
A pang of anger stung her then. Selene had spent a lifetime dealing with the revulsion of people like him. They had shaped how her friend viewed the rest of the world, had made her angry and bitter when she had so much love and kindness inside her. Iliana couldn’t stop the acid dripping from her tone.
“What does her mage gift have to do with anything?”
“But she could-”
“Could what? What could any mage do, in a room such as this? There are servants, officials, guards and guests in every conceivable nook and cranny of this hall, keeping their eyes riveted on that very scene. I’m sure she’s suffered plenty just by being born with that mage gift. There’s no need for one more person to add their prejudices to the mix.”
Nicephorus seemed torn between shame and an ill-concealed dread. He kept his mouth shut, as did the others at the table, but it was impossible to look away from the scene unfolding before them. It was beyond the pale in terms of etiquette. Iliana only hoped her friend had the moxie to pull off her stunt without losing her head. Impassioned speech aside, she began to break out in a cold sweat as nausea churned her gut.
“Tell me, Praetor, is the prince a generous or forgiving sort?”
Belisarius watched in fascinated horror as the boorish domina parked herself at his private table and grinned as though she’d just achieved some great coup. He prided himself on his reaction, which is to say, he remained sanguine and composed. He’d long known how high to arch his brow to indicate his displeasure.
“What brings the Domina Amethyst to my private table?”
“The view, Your Royal Highness. This is the best place in the palace for a love-struck young beauty to moon over the object of her affections.”
Alas, she was immune to subtlety.
Cornered by the uncouth harridan, he refused to give her the reaction she so clearly sought. Never had anyone taken quite so much pleasure in displeasing him. If he remained cold, maybe she would eventually leave in boredom.
“And who would this young woman be?”
“I haven’t a clue. I only supposed I might try blocking her view. Truly, I do you a favour. Whichever noblewoman here takes the greatest offense is the one most desirous of your affections.”
“I don’t believe I require your services as a foil in order to select my future empress.” The bite in his voice transformed her smile from one of derangement to one of triumph. Damn her. Why was she doing this? To score political points against him by making him look foolish? It was certainly something a petty magister might cook up.
“Don’t tell me—have you already fallen madly in love with me? Is that why you don’t wish me to aid you?” She blinked in mock surprise.
Belisarius swirled the wine in his goblet, wistfully dreaming of throwing it in her face. Her shock might just make that political landmine worth it. If only he could wipe that smug, detestable smirk off her face.
“Tell me, Domina, were you raised by wolves or does your boorishness come naturally?”
At that, a very odd expression crossed the domina’s face. It left him feeling a slight chill. It was gone in a moment, replaced by a leer.
“Ah, if only I’d been raised by beasts with parental instincts. Perhaps I would have learned how to properly appreciate theattentionsof noblemen.” She waggled her eyebrows in comic suggestiveness.
Belisarius was beginning to wonder if the woman in front of him was quite sane. Surely no well-adjusted woman of her station implied her parents were lower than beasts, and then made vulgar innuendos. Perhaps this was why no one had heard much of Magister Amethyst’s youngest daughter. He had erred in not specifying that only those playing with a full deck need attend, and this was his punishment for demanding thatallof the magistri’s daughters must be present at his bride show.
“Dessert is served, Your Royal Highness.”
One of the servants placed a small cake decorated in gold leaf before him, unruffled by the presence of the impudent woman seated beside him. How Belisarius envied him that quality in this moment. Resolved to ignore her, Belisarius went to take his fork in hand, but the domina had snatched it from under his nose, even daring to take a bite of his food. Just as he was about to lose his patience, she froze. The fork fell from her hand, clattering on the sumptuous tablecloth. Her eyes met his, wide with pain.
A whirl of blue skirts came barrelling into sight. His guards reacted as if Domina Roxane Sapphire were a threat, their spears raised.
“Your Royal Highness, it’s poisoned. Whatever she ate is poisoned!” Roxane hissed.
