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CHAPTER 9
Ihad to give it to Gunther that my poor father’s circumstance was indeed utterly grotesque. Once more, I found myself standing in front of my father’s dead body, shivering from all the ice that was placed in the room to keep the temperature down. My pompous, ceremonial black gown dragged over the wet floors of the cellar system of my castle where he was now resting for Malick to do with him as he pleased. The smell was horrendous—rancid, foul, of rotten eggs.
I gagged.
Outside, however, I could hear the sound of festive cannonballs, cheers, and chants of joy. The castle was close to the large town of the Rhine, our capital. There was a small forest between the two, yet the voices were still audible in the far distance. So were those of the people who gathered in front of the castle and on the road to the city, eager to catch a glimpse of the royal, glittering golden carriage that I would take to the dome in town for the ceremony.
My father was covered with white linen, only his face sticking out. It was white and blue now. When I’d first seen his body, I could have almost convinced myself that he was only sleeping. Now, there was no doubting it. He was long gone. I was trying hard not to cry, to be strong, but one tear managed to burn its way down my cheek. It felt like fire against the frigid air.
Malick was the only other person in the room with me.
“I’m sorry, Your Highness,” he said and stretched out a white handkerchief toward me. I ignored him as well as the tear that fell from my chin to land somewhere in the black folds of my dress. He put it back in his coat pocket.
“So, you still don’t know for certain what poison was used to kill my father?”
Malick pushed his round glasses up his nose. Down here in the darkness of the room, only lit by a few torches, his face was almost invisible. Those shimmering glasses were the only thing that made him stand out.
“Not yet, but I have a very strong suspicion.” He made his way over to one of the tables littered with his instruments: strange-looking scissors and knives, bowls with liquids, and books stacked high. He grabbed an old, leather-bound book and walked back over to me. Opening it wide, he revealed the image of a strange bush with grasslike leaves and yellow berries.
“Ever-sleep,” he said, pointing at it. “At the Fellsbrucks’ castle, I questioned Northern women who believed themselves witches. The oldest one of them told me about this plant. It is extremely rare, and she personally hasn’t seen one in half her lifetime. She said when its leaves are dried and ground to powder, they turn blue. Only a few of the most powerful witches in the North might still possess some of the powder.”
I narrowed my eyes at the picture. So small and simple in its appearance—yet so powerful. Just like the nut that had taken my mother.
I shook my head and turned away, unable to bear the sight of the plant for one more second. My mother was taken by a nut, my father by a plant. It seemed the very earth was conspiring against me.
“Is there no way to be certain?” I asked. “If this is what killed my father.”
Malick slammed the book shut. “There might be. I was told that rabbits from the North grew immune to the plant over many years of eating it. I brought a few Northern rabbits with me. With Her Majesty’s permission, I would like to compare the results of feeding those Northern rabbits with rabbits from the South.”
For a moment, I couldn’t help but be amazed at the knowledge and intelligence of this man. After all this was done, I would offer him a position here in the South as a head doctor or researcher at a university.
Then it dawned on mewhathe would feed those rabbits. My hand shot up to my mouth and I tasted bile. The smell, the thoughts of the rabbits nipping on my father’s flesh...
“Take what you need and release the rest of my father's body for his funeral preparations” was all I was able to push out as I twirled around and tumbled out of the room. My hand was clenched over my mouth to hold back what was forcing its way up against my control. I was able to run a few more steps down the hallway, into a small side tunnel, before I bent over and vomited.
I was still hacking when I felt the gentle touch of a hand on my back as someone held back strands of my hair that had become loose and would have fallen into my face. Thank goodness I had left my crown upstairs. It would have fallen right off and into the mess, which would have been a black omen upon the day before the ceremony had even begun.
I spat a thick glob of saliva, then reached for the dirty handkerchief that had appeared in the corner of my wet eyes and straightened.
“Thank you, Frida,” I said and turned.
I froze in shock so cold it felt as if I had fallen into a winter lake.
The person in front of me couldn’t have been more opposite to the small woman.
Two heads taller than me, the man in front of me was built like a bear, his black leather uniform tight around his muscular arms and legs. Dark blue eyes pierced me through the darkness.
Rune.
I wanted to scream but couldn’t. I had to swallow and cough a few more times before I could find my voice.
“How”—I coughed—“how dare you follow me down here.”
My hand jerked toward the little knife in the side pocket Wimfred had instructed to be sewn into my crowning dress—and every dress I would wear from here on. I had barely had time to practice how to stab someone with Dieter, and had never killed a living thing before, but how hard could it be to ram a blade into the flesh of someone who wanted to kill me?
I tugged out the knife and centered the blade in front of me like a shield. Its metal shimmered silver in the dark, but Rune didn’t even flinch. Instead, he kept staring at me, his eyes as mysterious as the night sky.
“I was told you wanted to talk to me,” he said, briefly glancing at the knife, then back at me. “Your Highness,” he added in a cold tone, then bowed slowly.
