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He’s stirring, breaking out of the stasis slumber.
Fuck me.
I reach into my vest and touch the little jar with the spell ingredients. I dare not mutter a reinforcement spell aloud, but I think it with all the force of my will.
Another tremor along the link.
This isn’t working. I need to be closer to him. When I’m nearer, I’ll have clearer access to his memories and I can shove him back down into sleep.
We’re at my chamber now. Well... Rupert’s chamber. I shoulder my way in first, glancing around to ensure that I didn’t accidentally leave any spell ingredients or telltale objects lying about. I’ve spent little time here since I arrived, so thankfully it’s more or less the way Rupert left it.
I reach under the mattress for the coin purse and hand it to the cook. “Take what I owe you.”
“You know it’s not really about the money,” she says. “So you weren’t able to get the fennisley? You assured me you could. Were you unable to meet the supplier?”
Fennisley? That’s a rare and virulent plant which produces one of the only poisons compatible with magic. With the right Elvish spell, fennisley can be spelled to affect only one person. Anyone else can absorb or ingest it without harmful effects, while it remains lethal to the intended target.
Finally, some information I can work with.
“Things got complicated,” I tell her. “I need a little more time.”
The cook eyes me, concern in her dark eyes. “You’re worrying me, Rupert. It’s not like you to be so vague.”
“Then I’ll speak plainly. The supplier demanded a higher price. I was putting you off while I tried to think of a way to make up the difference myself.”
“Sweet lad.” The cook pats my arm. “But we’re all in this together, son. You shouldn’t have to bear the burden or the risk alone. I’ll talk to the others and see if we can scrounge up more coin. How much do we need?”
“I’d rather not say,” I hedge. “I’m going to speak with my supplier again and see if I can get the price lowered. Meanwhile, you see what you can get from the others. If they can’t spare any more coin, we may need to steal it.”
“Which would add more risk to the situation.”
“But the end goal is worth it, wouldn’t you say?”
She looks up at me, her lips pressed firmly together, and she nods. “Aye, that it is. Freedom for us all. Especially for the poor concubines of his late Majesty, and the gents like you, whose manhood the King stole. And those poor girls they brought in to be raped and ruined.” Her voice breaks. “This plan must succeed. This must end.”
So my suspicion was correct—they plan to poison the King. With fennisley, the King’s royal taster, the one who checks his food for poison, will be of no use.
But to use fennisley properly, they need an Elf to enchant it. Do the real Rupert and his conspirators know that? Do they have access to an Elf who can perform the spell? If so, I must be careful, since another of my kind may be wandering around the palace in disguise. And if they don’t understand the requirements of using fennisley, they are already doomed to failure.
I need to return to Rupert Diggs and explore his memories on the topic. I must keep him subdued as well… Judging by the increasing force of the vibrations through our mental link, he’ll be fully awake in less than an hour.
“I must go,” I tell the cook. “As you know, I’ve been charged with monitoring the needs of one of the new concubines. We’ll talk more soon.”
She seems to accept the excuse, but there’s a twinge of suspicion in her eyes. Whatever trust she may have had in Rupert has been shaken by tonight’s encounter. I blundered into an assassination plot—one I heartily support, if it means Juliette’s freedom. But I appear to have derailed the effort. If I can get the plan back on track, maybe I can save the pretty baker after all.
Unfortunately, saving her means I will have to disappoint her tonight. She’ll be disappointed… perhaps angry… or sad.
I fret over Juliette’s reaction as the cook departs, and I fret as I don a cloak, leave the House of Bounty, cross the courtyard, and pass through the gates. Despite the late hour, no one questions my purpose or destination. Either the gate guards are careless or they’re friendly to Rupert. I suspect the latter, judging by my previous interactions with them.
The walk to the alley where I left Rupert feels longer than I remember, perhaps because I’m anxious that he will wake before I reach him. The tremors coming from his mind are more frequent now, and I quicken my pace, my gut tightening with apprehension.
I haven’t been this worried about anything in ages. It’s uncomfortable, and oddly exciting. Perhaps anxiety goes hand-in-hand with every goal worth pursuing. When you want a thing badly enough, the terror of failure is greater, and so is the stress of the pursuit.
I’ve always viewed stress as an enemy, and I’ve thought of worry as something to be avoided at all costs. I prefer to drift aimlessly through life, wanting little, needing little, satisfied with little.
But ever since Juliette, I want more. It started with a craving for her body, and progressed to a liking for her company, and now I’m trying to cope with the fierce desire to ensure her safety and to destroy anyone who might threaten it.
And all this in the span of two days.
