The Poison Prince
Prologue
ON the night that Queen Ilia died the mourning spread beyond the walls of the Kingdom of Lyris. The gentle hearted queen had won over cities far beyond her borders, and nations were at peace because of her. She had been a temperate ruler at her husband's side, and the King turned to her for counsel before anyone else. She had been his rock and his heart from the moment he had laid eyes on her. And now she moved no more, struck down by a venomous snake bite during an afternoon stroll through the castle gardens. Her grey eyes were dulled of their sparkle instantly and she had fallen beside her only child; a son, a prince of just nine who lived his life without nary a care in the world, all because she insisted he have a childhood before he carried the weight of a kingdom. The screams of Prince Taiden haunted servants for years as they watched him grow without that innocence she wanted for him. The path he walked was not one Queen Ilia would ever have approved of, but no one knew what games the Prince played. More had happened in the garden that day. There had been more than a snake lurking in the tall grass, but no one listened to the babbling delusions of a crying boy sick with grief, prince or not.
Alliances had to be kept, and kingdoms had to rise. The King, a man who now relied on advisors and counsel more than he had ever done before, took a new wife when his son turned thirteen. She came from Nephille, a city great with trade from the outer kingdoms. Her cold beauty carried a sharp edge to it. She was no Queen Ilia and the people did not take to her like they had the King's first wife. Her name was Devanna, and those most opposed to the arrangement between Lyris and Nephille mockingly called her Devanna the Divine. At first she thought it was a compliment from the people – her people – but once she understood the cruelty behind it she held no remorse for those who fell at her feet and begged for mercy when they came for punishment. Her wrath was cold, her sentencing cruel, and the King, who had been lost to his grief, did nothing to interject and control the tyrannous queen who was forming at his side. It wasn't long before the Kingdom of Lyris was feared when it had once been revered. And through all of this there was a Prince who was now a man, and who had for some time been playing his own game; a game of poison and secrets.
Alliances had to be kept, and kingdoms had to rise. The King, a man who now relied on advisors and counsel more than he had ever done before, took a new wife when his son turned thirteen. She came from Nephille, a city great with trade from the outer kingdoms. Her cold beauty carried a sharp edge to it. She was no Queen Ilia and the people did not take to her like they had the King's first wife. Her name was Devanna, and those most opposed to the arrangement between Lyris and Nephille mockingly called her Devanna the Divine. At first she thought it was a compliment from the people – her people – but once she understood the cruelty behind it she held no remorse for those who fell at her feet and begged for mercy when they came for punishment. Her wrath was cold, her sentencing cruel, and the King, who had been lost to his grief, did nothing to interject and control the tyrannous queen who was forming at his side. It wasn't long before the Kingdom of Lyris was feared when it had once been revered. And through all of this there was a Prince who was now a man, and who had for some time been playing his own game; a game of poison and secrets.