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He is lying. If I say no, he will laugh and take a drink. It’s just a silly little test.
“Better them than me. I don’t want to get sick from bad dairy.” I waved the suggestion off like it meant nothing, but in the back of my head, I was thinking about the two men who stood outside the door. Many in my father’s personal guard I had grown up with, trained with in the guards’ quarters. Many of them were my friends.
“Guards,” he hollered over his shoulder. It echoed in my ears.
Two men shuffled through the doorway, their broad shoulders nearly scraping the sides of the frame. Their bronze armor covered the majority of their bodies, but it still left their faces plain for me to see. Whoever drank this was going to die tonight, and I was starting to get the feeling it wouldn’t be my father like I hoped. My legs twitched to run. My hands balled into fists, ready to fight my way out.
I didn’t want to recognize their faces. I didn’t want to know the guards who stood here now, but I did. Of course, I did. They were both good men, married men, with wives and children. Someone wouldn’t have a father tonight. I wished so badly that it would be me.
“You. Drink this. Princess Maggie thinks the milk is sour.” King Ottack handed the cup to the nearest guard.
Kaleb. While his face was so serious now, he was quite the jokester. His harmless pranks were often the only thing that kept the sparring ring light and the tension between the other guards low. He took the cup, unsuspecting. Bringing it up to his lips, he didn’t waste time sniffing it like my father had, he took a long deep drink.
“It tastes fine to me, but if it pleases you so, I could run for new dairy,” Kaleb said, holding the cup back out.
The King simply cocked his head and watched Kaleb. Kaleb glanced from the King to me, the question growing in his eyes. Realization didn’t hit him until the poison did. His body convulsed, both his arms seizing up and curling into his abdomen, sending the cup hurtling toward the ground. Glass shards flew in every direction, tea splattering up his legs. His friend crouched next to him, watching in horror. The gasp that left me was far from fake as I made myself watch.
Kaleb’s face turned blue then purple. His eyes squeezed shut and pathetic cries of pain wheezed out of his lips. He curled further and further into himself on the floor, the muscles in his body randomly jerking.
I closed my eyes and looked away unable to watch any more of this death at my hands. Killing an enemy on the battlefield was different. That was freeing. Killing a friend in a painful death like this…my soul would be forever damned.
“Should I call for aid?” the guard said.
“No,” Father drawled, “he’ll be dead before they get here.”
Then he turned his cold gray eyes on me.
Chapter10
Ryker
According to Graceson, there wasn’t much longer left to travel. ‘Half a moon’ as he called it. Whatever his words meant, they didn’t carry much hope through our traveling army. Nymphs were curled up on large boulders that sat at the edge of the trail, a couple covered in the same green moss that climbed its side. Some swung their legs off the low hanging limbs of nearby trees, and others laid down flat against the dirt, watching the stars that twinkled between the branches.
This was the closest thing to peace they had felt in a few days, and likely the closest thing they’d get for a while. Tough times were ahead and I could feel it like a knot tied too tight in my chest. Maybe they could feel it too.
You could tell by looking at their faces which Nymphs had already taken this route with Shavarra before. They knew what to expect of the long, drawn-out walk and they were quick to busy themselves with conversation. The rest though, the ones who had been in the Heathern Court with me all this time, they had begun to drag their feet with every step. A break would do them good.
And me. I was not first to admit it out loud, though I’d admitted it to myself a while ago, my body and my soul yearned for rest.
I pushed my backpack against the base of a tall tree. Green leaves were sprinkled in between the rusty reds and mustard yellows. We were somewhere within the Acture Court, but still relatively close to the Heathern Court. Every small breeze made the leaves rustle together carrying a brisk fall scent.
Slowly, I slipped my shoes off and peeled away my socks to welcome the prickle of grass. I’d wandered from the group to a sliver of moonlight that cut through the canopy of trees giving myself an ounce of privacy. No part of me had the energy to appear outgoing or sociable. At this point, I’d grown tired of talking.
The entertainment aspect of Graceson and Jerydin had quickly worn off. Graceson found himself trailing Shavarra like a lost puppy dog and I still felt wrong about everything we’d seen in that village.
Life within the earth pulsed against the bottom of my feet. Blades of grass caught between my toes as I pulled my knees up to my chest. I could feel Mother Nature's power thrumming through it all. I could feel it soaking up into me, touching every dry, exhausted part of me.
If we had done what Dace wanted, turned back and returned to our post at the crumbled castle, I wouldn’t have witnessed another horror. Part of me wished we had listened even though the Heathern Court wasn’t safe anymore.
We needed help. We needed King Windre. I reminded myself. What was one more shitty thing to add to my already long shit list? I was right to keep going. Dace was wrong.
“May I join you?” a familiar voice said.
I snapped my eyes open and stared up at Graceson. He gave me a shy smile while he lowered himself to the ground in front of me. As he tucked his long legs underneath him, he reminded me so much of a child. Graceson had somehow always kept a part of his youth. Mine felt like it had been stripped away.
“It looks like I don’t have much of a choice.” I pointed to the seat he had already taken.
“Look, I’m sorry about earlier,” he started.
