Page 3 of Consort's Dragon
“You insolent wench.I am His Eminence’s vizier.I will not stand here and be insulted, nor will I allow you to harm the emperor.Guards, seize them.”
“You overstep yourself, Phelgar.Ignore that order,” Titus called out, standing from his throne.
“But, Your Eminence,” Phelgar said, turning to face him.“Surely you don’t believe this charlatanry.It is most likely an illusion.”
“I am an old man on the cusp of death.Do I really have anything to lose?”Titus asked.
“Your life,” Phelgar bluntly stated.
“A life of aching bones and wheezing breath.I’ve been alive more than seventy years, longer than most.”
“If you die, the country will be in shambles.”
“Because I lack an heir.I’m aware,” was his dry reply.“Do you really think a few more days or months or even years will change that?”
“You’ve had ill luck with infertile women?—”
Despite a lifetime of obedience, Titus cut him off.“It’s not them, and you know it, despite how many doctors you parade past me claiming they are barren.Or did you think I wasn’t aware of my wives’ dalliances and their pregnancies with other men?Incidents you caught before the babes could be passed off as my own?Perhaps you should have allowed one of them to be born.”
“As if I’d allow a bastard to sit on the throne,” Phelgar hissed.
“The truth is, my seed refuses to take root, and thus I either die without an heir, or I trust this elixir isn’t an illusion.”
“Once you regain your youth, you won’t need a son.You could rule forever,” Klothi stated loud enough to be heard.
Immortality.It tempted, as did the fact he wouldn’t have to keep pretending interest in the various ladies who showed up in his bed.No more being forced to marry supposedly fertile females whom he couldn’t stand to be around.
“I accept your gift.”Titus descended the dais on legs that protested as he held out a gnarled hand.
Klothi dropped the vial in his palm and Titus eyed the liquid within, a little more than half left.A sniff of the potion wrinkled his nose.“It smells foul.”
“Most cures do,” she softly noted.
True.
Before Titus could shrivel and cower obediently under Phelgar’s disapproving stare, he tilted the vial and dribbled the liquid into his mouth.
It tasted worse than it smelled.Titus almost spat it out.His throat tightened and his stomach clenched as he forced himself to swallow.
The effect proved instant.His muscles cramped, the pain gripping every inch of him.The ampoule fell to the floor and shattered, not that he noticed.He was too busy trying not to scream from the agony scouring his body.
He found himself on the floor and could hear Phelgar shouting, he just couldn’t bring himself to care, seeing as how he was dying.
He’d been wrong.
The poison would kill him.
Here ended his legacy and that of his forefathers stretching a thousand years.
To his surprise, he didn’t die.The seizures and pain eased.He took a deep breath, and it didn’t wheeze.The aches, so long a part of him, were gone.As Titus rose to his feet, staring in wonder at his smooth hands, he heard Phelgar exclaim.
“Your eminence.It worked.”The man sounded so surprised.
Titus was elated.He turned to Klothi and smiled, a charming grin with a hint of conniving as he said, “Whatever you wish from me, you have it.”
“Eminence, shouldn’t you first hear what they want from you?”Phelgar argued.
“Doesn’t matter.”After all, if these witches could keep him young forever and thought he could lead them into a new age, he’d be a fool to refuse.
