Page 27 of Poisoned Kingdom
‘You’re playing with fire, Sana. You really think the king will listen to you, let alone take your words seriously?’
‘Wouldn’t you listen to someone skilled enough to enter your bedroom and whowasn’ttrying to kill you?’ I tried to grin to cover the unease I felt about my plan. ‘I’ll offer my services to help him expose his enemies in exchange for his protection from Tivala. Then, once King Reynard eliminates the mastermind behind all this, I’ll point to Jagon as the rogue who took money for his life.’
I grasped her hands, feeling guilty about how much my admission had upset her.
‘Lily, everything will be fine. I’ll tell the king it was Boyan’s idea and that he’s cleaning house. I know how all of this sounds, but I’m trying to protect us.’
‘You’re bloody insane and will get yourself killed. Mages, the Brotherhood, and now the king . . . How are you going to juggle them all? Even if this works, what if Boyan dies? Jagon . . . you know he’s the likeliest candidate to become the next grand master.’ Lily pulled away and paced the room.
‘Jagon will never replace Boyan as long as I’m alive. I’ll kill him if I have to.’
There were only two ways to remove a chapter or grand master without the entire Brotherhood hunting you down—a vote of no confidence or the challenge of combat. Not that I stood a chance in either.
Lily gave me a sharp look. ‘Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that. Still, for your plan to work, you have to get to the king first. Howdo you intend to do that? He’s increased his guards since his accident.’
‘With enough sleeping powder to tranquillise an army?’ I chuckled when she frowned. ‘Alright, I had planned to ask Irsha if any of his men could sneak me inside.’
Lily looked at me for a long time before she closed her eyes and shook her head. ‘I don’t know if you’re insane or inspired, but if I can’t stop you, I may have a way to help you. Don’t ask Irsha. If they caught him . . . it’s easier to explain a single woman than the Blades’ master,’ she said, the protectiveness in her voice surprising me. ‘I know a man who works in the palace and has a way into the king’s quarters, but once you’re in his private wing, the rest will be up to you.’
‘That’s better than I’d hoped for.’
‘Good. I’ll leave for now. Get yourself ready. I’ll have my contact come for you around midnight.’
I watched her go, then set myself to the task of braiding my hair. Lily was right. Most of my plan equated to ‘fucking around and finding out,’ but what else could I do? I had no money, no influence, and my friends were in danger because ofme.
But luck was on my side—I’d made it to Truso and escaped the Court of Aether intact. Maybe after my ordeal in the forest, Arachne, the goddess of fate, was finally smiling down at me.
That I remembered little of what happened that day was a blessing. It was almost as if my mind was forcing me to forget the feeling of being helpless under those abusive hands. The more time passed, the more my memories blurred. That is, all except one . . . the memory of the man with grey eyes felt different, but maybe I only remembered him specifically because I’d killed him.
I rolled my shoulders, brushing off the uneasy feeling the thought brought, and focused on the task at hand. I had to present myself not as a threat, but as anopportunity. Thatmeant no visible weapons and a simple kirtle instead of what I’d normally worn when I was in the Dark Brotherhood. I needed something modest, practical, and feminine, with many pockets to conceal those nonexistent weapons . . .
‘The perfect outfit for an audience with the king.’ I smiled at my reflection while I finished pinning my braid into a crown. The rumours were that Reynard was an imposing man but chivalrous to women, and I fully intended to play to this trait for my own safety.
The moon was high in the sky when I looked up at the abandoned warehouse, its façade foreboding, half-hidden by the fog sweeping in from the river. The building sat at the end of the port district, where hardly any passersby could be seen. Lily’s contact stood impatiently by the doors and I wondered why we were here in the first place.
‘Are you sure this is the entrance?’ I asked as he fumbled with a key.
‘Yes. You didn’t think I’d lead you through the front gates, did you?’ His voice fused with the screeching of the lock, but his strong southern accent still caught my attention. ‘This is the only way to get to the king’s private quarters,’ he said as we approached a trapdoor hidden behind some broken crates.
He passed me a small piece of paper and a torch. ‘A map. In case you need to escape through a different way. That’s all I can do for you,’ he told me before promptly disappearing into the shadows.
The tight entrance gave me pause. It was a difficult route, but a small pouch of sleeping powder weighed down my belt, ready to silence any unfortunate souls that got in my way.
You can do it, Sana.
I exhaled, fingers tightening on the torch. It barely provided any light, intensifying the feeling of claustrophobia as I pushed into the seemingly endless corridor. It didn’t take long for the flame to flicker and die, but I’d already seen the beginning of a set of stairs and was soon heading towards the faint light above.
Finally, I stood in front of a small door secured with a latch.
‘All right, Sana, time to meet the king,’ I muttered, opening the door and jumping when it snapped shut behind me, catching the edge of my cloak. The small gap was just enough to keep the door open, so, shrugging the cloak off, I stepped deeper into what looked like a study.
The soft glow of the full moon illuminated the space. The shadows of furniture scattered around the room and the piles of paper threatening to fall off a desk told me the owner was comfortable living in chaos . . . or had a profound aversion to cleaning.
Needing to find the king’s bedroom, I checked the map before peeking into the corridor. Voices drifted through the silence—low murmurs from behind two ornate doors the map had marked as the wing’s entrance. Ironically, the king’s decision to keep the entire wing private was now working in my favour.
I frowned, trying to decipher the map’s writing in the faint light. If I’d read it right, King Reynard’s bedroom was the third door on the left.
My hands trembled as I eased the study door shut behind me. Then I ran—quiet, quick—towards the room labelled as his private sanctuary. I froze as the handle turned easily beneath my fingers.
