Sheilah looked over to Andrea, who ordered one of the maids to put out the two that had been immolated.
“Who poisoned me?” She asked.
Andrea stopped in her tracks and turned to Sheilah. “I do not know, My Lady.”
Sheilah’s eyes narrowed at that.
“What do you know?” She asked cooly, leaning a little on Fialla.
“Nothing right now.” Andrea replied. “Everything happened very quickly, and-”
“Well, find out very quickly.” Sheilah demanded.
Andrea nodded, and went to leave, but Sheilah called her back.
“I ... need something to wear.” She asked in a much more normal tone.
Andrea nodded, and Sheilah walked with Fialla to the sitting room, unmindful of the stares and wary looks the two of them received.
Sheilah collapsed on the divan as soon as she was inside.
“Oh. I am so hungry. I could eat for a week. And sleep for as long.” She complained, as Fialla sat next to her.
“Maybe not a week, but close.” Fialla agreed.
“I was just starting to ... not like the place, but get used to it, at least.” Sheilah complained.
“I don’t care about it at all.” Fialla replied. “I’m tired of the stupid clothes, the stupid rules, the stupid people.” She nestled herself against Sheilah. “We could find animals to hunt, help in the gardens, stitch tents, find a husband together, teach our children how to be dragons, teach them the songs and stories, send them to the Ashlands, welcome them back...”
Her voice was falling lower, her words were getting slower. She was falling asleep.
Sheilah lifted her head. “Come in, Andrea.”
Andrea stepped into the room, but Sheilah raised her hand in warning.
“That’s as far as you come.” She stated coolly. “You can speak from there.”
Andrea gave her a pained, hurt look. “The tea pitcher was poisoned.” She explained. “Since-”
Sheilah cut her off there. “What’s a pitcher?” She asked.
Andrea nodded. “It’s a large ceramic container we pour brewed tea in. it’s put into cold water to cool it down, since that’s how you prefer it.”
Sheilah nodded. “Who did it?”
Andrea shook her head. “There is a limited number of people allowed into the tea kitchen, and all of them-” She paused. “I’m sorry, but this is difficult for me to say.”
“No secrets from me.” Sheilah warned.
“...as you wish,” Andrea began, “The maids I have hired to handle your food, see to your clothing, and guard you while you sleep all come from the same place I was trained. They report directly to me.”
Sheilah took this in without blinking.
“Where you were trained?” She asked.
Andrea nodded. “We serve as bodyguards and if necessary, assassins.”
“Okay.” Sheilah replied. “So a traitor, then.”
Andrea shook her head. “I vetted them myself. I suspect an intruder.”
Sheilah blinked a few times. “I’m usually good about sensing things like that.” Sheilah objected.
“Uncannily so.” Andrea agreed. “But in this instance, I don’t suspect the staff. I suspect an intruder took advantage of the fact that you were away from your apartments for an unusually long period of time and applied the poison.”
“...applied the poison...” Sheilah repeated. Andrea nodded. “The kitchen knives had been poisoned, as well as the vegetables... and we suspect the soup stock as well.”
“They certainly were thorough.” Sheilah decided.
Andrea nodded. “The prime suspects are the Dark Elves, The Jurgenheims, and two seamstresses. If there were differing circumstances, I myself and my ... associates would also be suspects.”
Sheilah gave Andrea a baffled look.
“The Jurgenheims had a very strong chance at the throne- specifically Sten- before you arrived. Now that Magdalene and Toril have a daughter, they lose the potential for taking the throne. They might gain the throne if you are married to Sten- a very likely prospect- but you would be Queen, and only after you had children would they be able to claim a solid tie-”
Support the creativity of authors by visiting Royal Road for this novel and more.
“The Jurgenheims are Magdalene’s sister’s children.” Sheilah replied. Andrea nodded.
Sheilah’s eyes narrowed at that. “I don’t plan on marrying Sten.”
“My Lady, we don’t often marry for love, but for authority. Marrying the future Duke of Jurgenheim ensures a stronger nation.” Andrea explained.
“The seamstresses?” Sheilah prompted.
“They took extremely vocal offense at the Princess of Stormheim taking an elven girl as a sister.”
“And yourself?” Sheilah asked.
“I could be suspected if my loyalty to you were less. My family has supported Magdalene’s family for generations. If you had not earned my trust, then I would be a suspect.”
“Have I?” Sheilah asked.
Andrea nodded. “I trust you. I don’t think you have malicious plans for Stormheim, so I give you my loyalty,” She smiled, “and I like you, as a person. You’re very straightforward. I have no problems serving someone as yourself.”
She undid the cuff of her right sleeve and revealed a tattoo of Sheilah’s Redstone mark on her arm. “Myself- and the women that also carry this mark- we will all die before harm comes to you.”
“You understand how dubious that sounds, since I nearly died less than an hour ago.” Sheilah remarked.
Andrea nodded. “We’ll... redouble our vigilance.”
Sheilah stared at her hands for a moment. “How many died?” She asked.
“Five. Two cooks that handled the knives, and the three Fialla killed.” Andrea reported.
Sheilah stroked Fialla’s hair gently.
“As far as Fialla is concerned, Stormheim has given up all rights to me. I very nearly died.” Sheilah began slowly. “Her loyalty is to me- not as Sheilah Stormheim, but as Sheilah. As plain, ordinary Sheilah, without titles or honors. She’s followed after me and supported me her whole life, even when it meant breaking custom.”
Sheilah shifted her position, and Fialla laid her head down on Sheilah’s lap.
“In the Redstone, we have a saying, a rule. A rule that is drilled into you before you can even talk, passed down from your parents, who learned it from their parents, and so on: ‘You live and you die by your own strength’,” Sheilah paused, and stroked Fialla’s hair again, “It is an ironclad rule that keeps us strong. If two men are dying of thirst and there is water in front of them, the one that gets up and drinks it has no responsibility to the other to help them drink.” She paused again.
“Fialla has broken that rule more times than I can count, to keep me alive.” She shook her head. “I owe her so much I cannot even think of how to begin to pay her back.”
She looked up at Andrea. “I am going to get dressed. Fialla and I are going to have a meal. We both need to eat. Our gifts come at a cost, and eating pays that price.” She paused. “After we eat, I am going to speak with my mother. The topic of conversation will be what happened. I will gain her opinion.”
“Fialla’s opinion carries the strongest weight, because without her, I would have died long before I learned I came from here.”
She closed her eyes and reached deep inside for the voice of the Dragon. It held no wisdom; only a mindless urge for rampaging destruction and subjugation. There was a purity there. No complicated emotions or entanglements, just the simple feeling of solving everything in the fires of destruction. Strangely, it brought her peace in a way.
Her head came up. “I accidentally burned part of the dressing room.”
Andrea nodded. “I’ll have it seen to.”
“And my clothes?” Sheilah asked. “I have different ideas of modesty than Stormheim, so I don’t mind eating naked, but-”
“I brought you a robe.” Andrea interjected.
Sheilah smiled. “Thank you very much, Andrea.”
Andrea eyed the two of them. “Are you two...” She trailed off, and then asked, “...sexual?”
Sheilah giggled. “Not in the way that you think.” She replied in a droll voice. “Sometimes friends are so close... sometimes sisters are so close... that they can’t think of being apart. I have a pair of younger sisters, twins, that are like that.” Sheilah brushed some of her hair back from her ear. “Whoever I marry will also have to see to Fialla as well, so it’s important to the both of us that we choose someone we can both agree to.”
She closed her eyes. “I took Stormheim too lightly.” She realized. “Those that are born to the Clan of the Dragon have exceptional resilience, and we heal quite well. But when my father returned to the Redstone from Stormheim, his back remained scarred, even years later. I didn’t realize it until now.”
She prodded Fialla, but finding her completely asleep, she carefully slipped out from under Fialla and stood up.
Andrea offered Sheilah the robe. Sheilah took it and shook it out, then slipped it on and belted it.
Sheilah suddenly lifted her head.
“Someone is coming.” She advised, and then looked alarmed. “A lot of them.” She pointed at the door. “Go. They’re running.”
Andrea stepped out of the sitting room, and Sheilah pushed past her and strode towards the doors that led to her apartments.
“The guards outside are stopping them- If you are as loyal as you say you are, be prepared to intercept them.”
“As you wish, My Lady.” Andrea brought her fingers to her lips and whistled sharply. Seven women in similar dresses as Andrea assembled at the apartment doors, each of them reaching as if they were prepared to draw knives as Andrea had done.
“This is an emergency!” A voice shouted outside the door. “Sheilah! Sheilah!”
Andrea looked to Sheilah, who nodded.
Andrea opened the door and Sten stepped in, followed by several of his friends, all with belted swords.
“Sheilah!” He shouted, out of breath.
“I’m right here.” She replied.
He held up his hands to show he meant no harm. “I just heard- Don’t eat anything. My father-” He shook his head, scattering sweat everywhere. “Don’t touch anything, don’t eat anything. My father was talking to someone, I don’t know who, and I overheard them talking about poison!”
“...poison.” Sheilah replied.
He nodded, his chest heaving. “I don’t know if the assassin is here or not, but I heard,” He bent over and wheezed from exertion, hands on his knees, “-i heard that he was going to have you poisoned.”
“And why would your father want me poisoned?” Sheilah asked, as if Andrea hadn’t explained already.
“He wants me on the throne!” Sten wheezed.
“Isn’t that something you want?” Sheilah asked.
Sten broke out into weak laughter at that. “I don’t want the throne, I can’t even run my life, how could I run a country?” He asked, baffled.
“Do you know who the assassin is?” Andrea asked.
He shook his head. “No idea, but they’re likely filthy fucking rich if they’ve been hired to kill a princess.” he remarked.
After a long moment, Sheilah nodded. “Andrea, see to our... guests. Have Fialla moved to the bedroom. Deal with the ... poison. I’ll... put on something more accommodating.”
Andrea nodded. “As you wish, my lady.”