Chapter 2
Anais
A droplet of tea splashed onto the wooden table in the rose garden’s gazebo. Laureline stilled her cup and dabbed with her handkerchief. “Shouldn’t poison the birds,” she mumbled.
“Poison?” Anais lifted her head from a message scroll. “Your tea can’t be that bad.”
The lady stared into her cup. “Oh, I haven’t tried it yet. The healers think they’ve finally gotten the mixture right for whatever was in your wine that night. Here, take a whiff – it’s practically scentless. Probably tasteless, too.”
She lifted her cup.
Anais’ eyes widened. Her hand shot out. “Laurel, that nearly killed me! What are you doing?!”
Her Escort waved her off and took a sip. Licking her lips, she said, “The healers said it was a sleeping draught or something of the like. Don’t overreact, dear. Besides, poison doesn't bother me in the slightest. What do you think I've been drinking all this time?”
Anais eyed the dainty porcelain teacup. “Tea? Floral and green, usually?”
The lady laughed. “I haven't had proper tea in thirty years! There's a reason I've never offered anyone else my tea. It'd probably kill them.” She pursed her lips at her cup. “Or just make them spit blood for a few days.” She shrugged.
Laureline had always been possessive of her tea. Anais had thought she had a rare blend or something.
Huh.
She took another sip.
“…Well?” Anais waited for the said blood-spitting.
“Hmm? Oh.” Laureline blinked. She swished the liquid around in her mouth and swallowed. “Not quite tasteless. The healers used poppy, but they weren’t certain about one of the ingredients. I think it was an accelerant. Mixed with alcohol, I can see why you fell unconscious. Could be useful as a sleeping remedy. Oh, except for that headache you woke up with. Hm.” She tilted the cup to her lips again.
Anais tried not to wince. “Should you be drinking that?”
Laureline scowled. “Mind your own business, dear. Do I tell you how to be Queen?”
“Yes?”
“Oh, yes, right. Maybe I should stop drinking this.” Pouting at her cup, she tipped it into the bushes.
Anais decided not to ask if the plants should be drinking it either.
She smoothed a corner of the scroll. After imploring her to train with the army tomorrow, Jerrl had handed her the latest reports on desertions and disputes. “Perhaps I shouldn’t have executed Damon so hastily. I can’t believe no one else knows his plans.”
“No one who stayed knows his plans.”
Her lips thinned. “Perhaps. Jerrl is barely holding them together. I need to keep my promises sooner than later.”
The lady picked up her hat from the chair beside her. She fluffed a feather. “So many promises, so little time.”
Come to think of it, a constant diet of random poisons could explain Laureline’s… everything. Anais huffed a small laugh, then rubbed her temple. “A serving of your tea to the entirecouncil ought to satisfy the rebels.” Watching her nobles spit up blood would be highly satisfying. Maybe a few would keel over. Or all of them.
Shaking her head, she picked up another scroll. Marking the inside corner was a red nine-pointed star. “Nadraken is too quiet. Little to no military movement. They should have made a response by now. Almost feels like our spies have been caught.”
Laureline peered over her hat. “My little birds know better than that, but I agree it is worrisome. Their Queen is planning something.”
Plans that had better wait until after the Consort Ceremony. She hadn’t looked forward to any celebration in such a long time. It felt petty to think that a war would ruin her day, but, well, it would.
—
The Mistress of Ceremonies read from a scroll. “On the schedule for next week is the merchant guild’s expansion request, distribution of the Count of Riverway’s land, and, of course, the Consort Tournament.”
