Page 43 of Bride to the Fiend Prince
“I’ll find someone,” Betta said quickly. She strode away, and I retreated into the Prince’s suite.
Several minutes later a servant with brown hair and plain, unremarkable features entered the room, carrying a tray with tea and milk. “Your Highness,” she whispered, with a glance at the sleeping Prince. “Betta said you requested this.”
“Yes, thank you.” I motioned to the low table by the fire.
The servant set down the tray, but she did not leave. “She also said you needed something else. A way to secure His Highness’s future, and the good of Terelaus.”
My eyes flashed up to hers. She gave me a small conspiratorial smile.
“You’re the one Betta spoke of,” I breathed.
“One of many who want change,” she said. “They will move when I speak. I have been waiting for the right time, and it appears that time may be at hand. But first, tell me one thing, Princess—will your Prince be different from his father? Because Terelaus cannot take another Dreadlord.”
“The Prince is weak of body, and in the past he’s been weak of will,” I told her. “But with support, I think he can be a good leader. One who listens, and does no harm to his people.”
“Doing no harm is a good start,” she said. “I’m told you have a plan?”
In whispers I explained all about the ichor, and the beast from the ancient world, and its poison.
The servant stared. “So the tonic we’re given—it’s not a cure for the plague of our people? It does not restore us to our natural state?”
“No.” I winced sympathetically.
“I thought we were all born to be physically strong, and gifted with magic,” she murmured, gripping the back of a chair. “Our priests tell us that Terelonians in their natural state are the most physically powerful and magically blessed beings in the world. We were made to rule all civilization. The lore says that our enemies in the surrounding kingdoms concocted a plague to weaken us, to make us normal like them, so we could not achieve our birthright.”
“Your natural state is like everyone else—average strength, and no magic,” I said gently. “The tonic—the ichor—it gives you powers, and steals away life and energy in return. Terelonians die young because of the Dreadlord’s ‘cure,’ not because of some non-existent plague.”
The servant wavered where she stood, and when I motioned for her to sit, she collapsed into a chair. “I thought the Dreadlord was withholding the cure, doling it out only briefly to those in his armies, those he favored. I thought it was a way of controlling us. I wanted revolution so we could make the cure freely available to all Terelonians.”
“The Dreadlord has withheld things from you, just not in the way you thought,” I said. “The people who take the tonic all have similar types of magic, right? They all wield it in the same way, in battle—nets and whips and pulses of energy. The people with unique magical abilities, like traveling magic or mental manipulations—they are born with a special gift, with innate magic. They are the natural-born sorcerers.”
“So the Prince was a natural-born sorcerer,” murmured the servant, glancing at the bed. “That would explain why his magic changed. He has always wielded whips and bolts of red fiery energy, but he used to have other abilities too—he could draw darkness around companies of soldiers, or form shadows to fool and distract the enemy. He could craft columns of whirling black cloud to tear through our enemies’ ranks. But a year or two ago he stopped controlling the clouds and shadows—he restricted himself to wielding energy, like the rest of the soldiers.”
“That must have been around the time when the beast attacked him,” I said. “How do you know all this, about the way he used his magic on the battlefield? You’re a servant—you haven’t seen him in battle.”
“My wife is a captain,” said the servant. “She tells me what she witnesses on the field. Each time she returns home for a brief respite, she’s a little weaker. It’s the reason I began gathering allies, so we could overthrow the Dreadlord, get control of the cure, and save her. And everyone else, of course.”
“To save anyone, we must end the Dreadlord’s reign,” I whispered. “And to do that, we must get past the sorcerers who guard him constantly.”
The servant pondered, tapping her lips. “You said that the ancient beast’s poison can eliminate a sorcerer’s gifts?”
“Yes. We have to break into the research area, get through all the locks on that huge door, and drain some of the poison from the creature’s talons. Then we have to give the poison to the Dreadlord’s sorcerers.” I leaned back in my chair, limp with discouragement. “Too many obstacles. I have no idea how we could ever get through that massive door to access the creature.”
“You may not have to,” said the servant. “I think I know where to get some of that poison.”
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“My wife is one of the Dreadlord’s trusted captains, as I mentioned,” said the servant. “And because of her rank and her trusted status, I was assigned to serve in the chambers of the Dreadlord. I never found the opportunity or courage to do him harm myself, but I watched everything. I noticed two items that he never removes from his person, except to bathe. One is a necklace with a tubular pendant—I thought it was a narrow bit of precious stone until I saw the liquid swirling inside. He keeps it tucked beneath his clothes. And there’s a bracelet with an identical pendant.”
“And how does that help us?” I asked, my fingers twisting with impatience.
“I’m getting to that,” she said. “Once, while I was helping to dress him for a dinner with his chief sorcerers, I asked if he wanted to leave the necklace and bracelet off, and switch them out with something more glamorous. The Dreadlord said, ‘No, on this night of all nights I should wear them. They are my safeguard against betrayal by those conniving magical serpents.”
I gasped. “He keeps some of the poison with him, in case one of his sorcerers tries to turn on him! It makes sense that they would be his biggest threat—they are gifted with strong innate magic, and he has none.”
She nodded eagerly. “I’ll wager his closest personal guards carry some of the poison, too, and there may be more hidden elsewhere in his rooms. I no longer serve in the King’s chambers, since I asked one too many questions—but the guards there still know me, and would probably let me in if I had a plausible errand. I’ll try to find this poison.”
“Be careful,” I told her. “This could be a deadly mission.”
