Chapter 7
Isolde The wine had lost its taste. The goblet emptied without me even enjoying a single drop. I reached for the cantor when my mother pressed a hand to my knee. Enough, Isolde, you have not even had your meal yet. It would be imprudent of the prince to see you tipsy.” I glanced over at Raelan, who was feigning interest in the bawdy stories father lived to tell. I noticed his cantor of wine was half full as well. Well, at least we had that in common.
“I fear the prince will see me tipsy quite often if I am ever to lie beside him.” A smile slithered across my lips. My mother dug her nails even harder into my knee. I bit my tongue to hide the pain.
“Isolde!” my mother hissed, clearly not amused at my joke. She turned her attention away from me and smiled at the court. It was a paper smile, one she had learned to draw upon her skin after we lost Davious. I don’t know if I’ve ever seen a genuine smile from her in my entire life, at least not one I could recall. Her eyes were trained as well for they hid her displeasure as she brought her lips over to my ears.
Speak ill of your betrothed again and you will not ride your precious Incendio for a month.” Her words were meant to threaten, but I just returned her costumed smile, my mood almost as sour as the wine.
“Well, I am sure if I can break in a stallion, I can break in my cousin. Incendio did not care for me mounting him at first either.”
My mother remained stoic in the face of my lewd remark. “Why have the gods cursed me with a daughter that spits in the face of all we have given her?”
I poured more wine and took a hearty swallow. “You have given me gifts I never asked for.”
The queen was forced to hold her tongue as the food trays were brought before us. The royal taster presented himself to my father and sampled his food, as was the custom. As he took a sample of the pudding, I eyed my plate, feeling the hunger stir inside of me. Why we had to eat in front of the entire court baffled me. I’d be happier with a tray in my chambers.
“Horace!” the king proclaimed as the royal taster clutched at his own throat. He had sampled every meal my father ever eaten for over two decades. Horace grabbed at the table, the linens twisting in his hands as he gasped for air. The very veins in his face constricted as he fumbled for water. The queen handed him her goblet of wine, but it was too late. The man collapsed on the floor, taking half the table settings with him. The clash and clang of silver proclaimed his death as it echoed throughout the halls.
Time seemed to stop, and my mind went into shock. It felt like a joke. At any moment I expected
Horace jumped to his feet and we would all applaud at how he had fooled us. But Horace did not jump up, and my body became locked with fear. Raelan went to approach the body, but Savio laid a hand on his chest, stopping him in his tracks.
In a manner equivalent to a growl, my father let his voice ring out throughout the hall. “Guards! Seal off every exit and seize the cook! Tell her nothing of what has happened so she has no time to taint her memory with a woven tapestry of lies.”
The guards began moving at once, the sounds of doors being slammed and locked bouncing off of the drafty walls. My gaze fell on Horace, who lay dead, his life given for the protection of my father. The cook would never survive this without being severely punished, most likely her sentence would be death. Even if she were innocent, it would serve as a warning to others that a threat is not taken lightly. Suddenly, my mind snapped with the realization of who would be punished. It wasn’t just a kitchen wench.
It was Lorcan’s mother.
I had to get a message to him, but how? The doors had been sealed, and no one was allowed to travel in or out until the cook was imprisoned and all accomplices were discovered. There was no one in my debt, not a soul I could trust to deliver my message.
A child, no more than eight, caught my eye in the corner of the room. He was the son of Fitz, the stable hand. I had often seen him shining the daggers for the guards out in the courtyard. They’d pay him in coins and teach him how to fight with sticks instead of swords. A small dagger was in his hands now. No doubt he was returning it to one of the knights, heard the commotion, and being a child had wandered into a room he shouldn’t have.
“A child was locked in. Surely his parents will be worried. Do I have permission to release him?” | asked my mother, who looked at me in a daze and then at the frightened boy I was referring to. She nodded and turned her attention back to my father, who seemed enraged by what had transpired. His claim to the throne had never been so openly threatened since the death of my brother. We thought the rebellion had ended, but there were still those who wanted him dead. Snatching an apple off of the table, I scurried over to the boy.
“What is your name, lad?”
The boy tore his eyes away from the corpse of Horace and met my gaze. “Jon,” he stammered. “Jonathan.”
“Jonathan, I will release you to your family on one condition.” The boy looked at me, relief washing over him that he would be allowed out.
I produced the apple that was hidden in my skirts. “Do you know Lorcan?”
“The black-haired man who tends to the horses?” I nodded. “Yes. Everyone knows Lorcan, they say his family committed sins against the gods and marked him with hair that would allow him to slip through the night undetected.” I raised my brow in alarm at the boy’s words. Is this truly how the city and its people saw him?
“Yes, well now I need you to slip out undetected. Give this apple to Lorcan and tell him his mother has been arrested.”
“Might I eat the apple?”
“I would think a boy as wise as yourself would know better than to eat anything that came from the king’s table tonight. Lorcan will believe your words if you give him this fruit. Tell him it was given to you by Princess Isolde herself.”
The boy nodded, snatched the apple, and walked with me to the side door. I told the guard the boy had the royal family’s permission to leave, and not questioning the word of the princess and future queen of Borvo, he opened the door ajar enough for Jonathan to slip out.
I knew Lorcan would come to his mother’s aide, and although there was nothing he could do to save her from her sentence, I wanted to allow him a moment to say goodbye before she was sentenced to her death.
****
No sooner had I allowed Jonathan to leave than the guards brought a trembling woman into the throne room? My father eyed the woman with loathing, but all I saw was her fear.
“She was fleeing the castle, my Lord. Claims she was just heading home.”
“I was!” Cora sobbed. “Please, Your Highness, I don’t understand what I’ve done. The guards have not told me of my crime.”
“What is your name?” The king asked her so uncouthly it caused me to cringe. She had cooked every meal he had ever eaten while he sat on the throne, and he didn’t know her name. I almost wished she had poisoned him.
“Cora. Cora Tarak.”
“Did you prepare the meal tonight, Cora?”
“I did. I prepare all of your meals, your grace.”
“Did anyone help you with the plum pudding?”
“No, your grace. That’s my private recipe. The other kitchen hands know better than to touch my dessert table.”
“She admits her guilt.” My mother raised her eyebrow in a perfect arch as she looked down on the lowly woman.
Cora’s eyes swept back and forth between the king and queen. Upon hearing the word, guilt, she began to cry. “What have I done, my Lord? I truly do not know. Was the pudding not to your liking?
Have you grown tired of my suppers and wish to have me replaced?”
The door to the throne room opened and one of the guards entered, walking briskly to the front of the room. He gave a bow and asked to approach the king. The king nodded, and I could hear him whisper that the son of the cook was outside the doors. My heart tightened in my chest. I wanted to help, but now I was afraid I had only placed Lorcan in danger.