So…
Logic dictates that the best way for me to kill my king is by poisoning my vagina.
And thanks to a conversation I heard between Marrabel andSaragese, I now know that chillies are poisonous.When they are used in food, they have to be dipped in and out of the sauces very quickly.But if any little particle remains, it can induce vomiting,diarrhoea,difficulty breathing,intense pain, and –if the piece of chilli is big enough– death.
Iwouldprefer to kill Richardin a way that doesn’t have “intense pain” as one of the symptoms, butgivenhe’llget vagina at the same time, I reckon that’llbalance it out.After all, ninety-nine percent of the victims in the books are male, so clearly, there is a lot a man will risk for sex.And if one thinks about it –which I have been; a lot– it’s only natural for men to die this way.Spiders, snakes, tarantulas, praying mantises, scorpions – there are so many cases of the gods deciding that this is the way males should go.So really, all I’m doing isobeyingthe words of the gods.I can’t be a bad brownie if I do that… right?
Reaching for the jar of chillies,I try to unscrew the lid.It’s on bloody tight though, and as much as I try to wrestle with it, I cannot get it to budge.I place it back down on the table with a frown.Bugger.
I’m going to have to smash it in the sink and risk cutting my hands as I pick through the glass.Can chilliespoison me that way?Hmm.Maybe this isn’t the best idea.
Deciding to try one more time, I pick up the jar, grip it between my thighs, interlock my fingers, and place both of mypalms on the side of the lid.Straining, I twist as hard as I can.
Pop!
The lid comes off, and my breath catches in my throat.
This is it.I just need to slip a few chillies in my vagina, then go seduce my king.
Standing, I take the jar into the ensuite.After placing it on the counter, I start to strip off my clothes.Just as I’m about to dip my fingers into the oil though, someone raps on the door of my chambers.
“Come in!”I say automatically.
I freeze, my eyes wide.Staring at myself in the mirror, I try not to panic.A good brownie always accepts guests, but damn these dang rules!They’re going to get me killed!
As the door to the hallway opens, I lunge at the door to the ensuite.Slamming it shut, I spin in place and grab my jumpsuit off the floor.
“Your Majesty?”a stranger, male, calls out as he moves into the room.
“I’m… I… I havediarrhoea!”I make a farting noise with my mouth as I hurry to put on my clothes.“But I’ll be right out!”Hopping around with one leg in my trousers, I search for the lid of the jar.Dang it!Where did I –
I freeze.Oh no!I left it on the coffee table.What if he sees?What if he warns King Richard?What if I put a few chillies up my vagina, but because he’s been pre-warned, he never eats me out?What if they decide to cuff my hands behind my back this time when they take me down to the dungeons?I’ll die with chillies in my vagina!
But it’ll still be better than having Karl be the last thing that was in there,a little voice snickers.
Not helpful!
Realising I just have to hopewhoever’s in my room can’t identify the lid of a chilli jar, I finish dressing, check myself in the mirror, and then step out.Keeping the door as closed as possible so he can’t see into the bathroom, I wriggle through the crack.
“Hi,” I say to the red-haired man I find standing in my sitting room.In one hand, he’s holding a bouquet of pretty teal shrooms.In his other is a large flat box balanced on his palm.Black, with a lilac bow wrapped around it, it screams class and luxury.
“Gifts of King Morningstar,” he says.“Where would you like them?”
“On the coff–”Oh!You stupid brain!I clamp my mouth shut, but he guesses what I was about to say.Turning, he looks down at the coffee table.
My breath catches in my throat.
But instead of snatching up the lid and calling for the guards, he simply putsdown thebouquet.The box is placed beside it.
When hepivots around gracefully and bows at me, I breathe out inrelief.But then he straightens and says, “Is there an issue withyour toiletandsink,Your Majesty?I didn’t heareither ofthemin use, but I can fix –”
“Oh!”I dart in front of him as he heads for the ensuite.“No!No, not at all.”I hurry to think of something to say.“I… I uh...pooped in the shower instead…”Idiot!Anyone who did that would then use the shower head to wash it down, and he didn’t hear that either!“But then I...um… I waffle stomped it…”I look down at my clean feet.“Then I… used the lush rug in there to clean my feet.”Looking back up at him, I smile confidently.Lies are sold with confidence, according to Fabia.
He blinks.
I open my eyes wide.Smile even wider.
He takes a step back.
