The Poison Prince
Chapter IV
WHEN Queen Devanna looked at her reflection in the black edged mirror she saw the cold beauty that she was renowned for, and more. She saw a hardened frown that had not turned into a smile for the best part of a decade. Her black eyes were darkened with the hatred of her people, not with her own malice. They were the ones who had chosen to despise her, and all because she was not their precious Ilia. All she had done was shown them what their hatred had cost them; and it was their lives. Devanna could have been a good queen. She could have blessed them when they came begging after the harsh winters, but no. They had decided to mock her when she rode by in the royal carriage and for that they would suffer a worse blight than any storm could ever produce. The villages were torn asunder at her command, and houses were ransacked if she heard of anyone slandering her name. She took delight in hearing them plead for their lives when their own callous hearts had brought them to their knees before her.
Turning from the mirror she looked over at the pitiful king still fast asleep. The curtains of the four poster bed were never drawn closed after a nightmare he had several years ago had almost seen him hang himself on the soft ropes, and so the morning sun shone down on his face, but still he did not stir. Devanna made sure of that. She slipped him a tonic each and every night that ensured the king slept through until late morning. The effects usually lasted most of the day afterwards, too. It kept him in a subdued state, barely alert for anything that happened. Not that it mattered. He had been lost a long time ago and all she was doing now was hiding that as best as she could. His heart was never hers. It was Ilia’s and the favoured Queen had taken it with her when she died. Devanna would always be in the shadow of her. She couldn’t beat her, so she didn’t try. Instead she had taken her own mother’s advice and gone for power rather than affection. It had worked perfectly for her, but devastatingly for the people of Lyris.
Thinking of her mother who still resided in the palace in Nephille, Devanna reached for jewel around her long neck. It was a royal pendant from her true home; the emerald encased in gold a reminder of a place where she had been loved by the people, and favoured by many noble suitors. Her father had sent her to Lyris as part of an alliance between the kingdoms, forcing her into a loveless marriage. Only her mother had understood her pain and it was her mother who encouraged her to make the kingdom hers. She could have anything with power, Devanna had been told the night before her wedding. It was true. In the early days she had rarely used her Nephille abilities, but all Nephille descendants were naturally gifted with Magicks. Devanna had eventually abused hers to manipulate nobles into siding with her when she was increasing the taxes for no reason beyond wanting the people to suffer. They deserved it for not loving her the way they had loved their precious Ilia. Now, nobles adored her, treated her like she was the only Queen Lyris ever deserved, and it was exactly how Devanna wanted it to be. The Queen’s Banquet would be a celebration of her in three weeks’ time and seal her position as ruler. Already she had sent away the royal crimson of Lyris and instead demanded that everything be redone in Nephille emerald, for her own pleasure. People were too afraid to argue, or stand up for the queen the banquet was even supposed to honour. No one would dare think of Ilia that evening unless they wanted the executioner’s blade across their neck.
“Don’t worry, my darling. You’ll love it, too. It’ll be a splendid affair, and the last one you ever see.” She sneered down at the resting king and curled her nose up in disdain for the man. There was no attraction to him. How could she ever be attracted to someone who preferred a corpse over her? She had offered to give him children, but he had told her his son was enough. A mad son, a prince unfit to rule. “And once that’s taken care of, I can remove Prince Taiden from the picture. He’ll be easier than you, of course. He’s already set himself up for a nasty fall. Maybe one from the highest tower?” She chuckled darkly to herself and then gathered up the deep purple skirt of her gown as she crossed to the door of the room, her head high as she went. Even in private Devanna held herself as though all the world could be watching her. It was only when she got downstairs that she discovered the nasty surprise that awaited the castle that morning.
Three members of the guard were gathered tightly together, worry and fear etched in the lines of their faces. A maid joined them with a letter clasped between her thin, shaking fingers. Her face was tearstained and red. Devanna studied the little assembly and then her eyes dropped to the letter. The seal, a deep gold, was undoubtedly the Prince’s. He had designed the monstrosity himself. An ivy leaf with crossbones through it, almost like he was some kind of notorious scoundrel who had the fortune to be sending letters wherever he went. It was another of Prince Taiden’s mad choices, entertained by those around him purely because he was the prince and the heir to Lyris. For now. Devanna had every intention to see to that. But first, she wanted to know what had the whispers starting so early in the day.
“What is going on?” She snapped, striding across the castle hall with every hope that the four scattered, but they did little more than jump at her voice and stumble into bows and a curtsey.
“Your majesty!” One of the guards – she cared not to remember his name – stepped forward and glanced at his two brothers in arms. “There was an incident in the night.”
“What kind of incident? What is the letter from the Prince?” Devanna narrowed her stony eyes and fixed them on the terrified maid. She always preyed on the weakest and in seconds the young girl was crying again, babbling words that meant nothing.
“I – this morning – breakfast – the chamber – letter – gone.”
Devanna made a fist before the girl and suddenly all air was sucked from the girl’s lungs. Her reddened face grew more so and her bloodshot eyes widened. “If you cannot speak then you are not worth keeping around,” she told her wearily, watching in secret bliss as the young maid dropped the letter to the floor in order to claw at her own throat.
“The prince is gone, your majesty!” Another guard shouted, “and so is Captain Julius.”
The shock of the news caused the queen to release the maid from her spell. She dropped to the floor gasping and holding her hands to her neck as she gulped down air.
“What?”
“Both of their horses are gone from the stables. All that they’ve left is the letter.” A guard picked it up and held it out to Devanna before she could hurt anyone else for it.
Snatching it from his gloved hand, Devanna ripped open the seal and roughly pulled the parchment out. Unfolding the paper inside, she found herself staring at just three words. The prince was mocking her in black ink, and Devanna’s blood boiled like never before as she realised exactly what kind of game Taiden was playing.
For Queen Ilia.
The parchment caught fire in Devanna’s hand and she dropped it angrily to the floor, her black eyes hungry and murderous as it burnt away entirely on the harsh stone. The name of the one she hated most surviving until last, laughing at her until the dancing flames finally consumed the bitter letters.
Turning from the mirror she looked over at the pitiful king still fast asleep. The curtains of the four poster bed were never drawn closed after a nightmare he had several years ago had almost seen him hang himself on the soft ropes, and so the morning sun shone down on his face, but still he did not stir. Devanna made sure of that. She slipped him a tonic each and every night that ensured the king slept through until late morning. The effects usually lasted most of the day afterwards, too. It kept him in a subdued state, barely alert for anything that happened. Not that it mattered. He had been lost a long time ago and all she was doing now was hiding that as best as she could. His heart was never hers. It was Ilia’s and the favoured Queen had taken it with her when she died. Devanna would always be in the shadow of her. She couldn’t beat her, so she didn’t try. Instead she had taken her own mother’s advice and gone for power rather than affection. It had worked perfectly for her, but devastatingly for the people of Lyris.
Thinking of her mother who still resided in the palace in Nephille, Devanna reached for jewel around her long neck. It was a royal pendant from her true home; the emerald encased in gold a reminder of a place where she had been loved by the people, and favoured by many noble suitors. Her father had sent her to Lyris as part of an alliance between the kingdoms, forcing her into a loveless marriage. Only her mother had understood her pain and it was her mother who encouraged her to make the kingdom hers. She could have anything with power, Devanna had been told the night before her wedding. It was true. In the early days she had rarely used her Nephille abilities, but all Nephille descendants were naturally gifted with Magicks. Devanna had eventually abused hers to manipulate nobles into siding with her when she was increasing the taxes for no reason beyond wanting the people to suffer. They deserved it for not loving her the way they had loved their precious Ilia. Now, nobles adored her, treated her like she was the only Queen Lyris ever deserved, and it was exactly how Devanna wanted it to be. The Queen’s Banquet would be a celebration of her in three weeks’ time and seal her position as ruler. Already she had sent away the royal crimson of Lyris and instead demanded that everything be redone in Nephille emerald, for her own pleasure. People were too afraid to argue, or stand up for the queen the banquet was even supposed to honour. No one would dare think of Ilia that evening unless they wanted the executioner’s blade across their neck.
“Don’t worry, my darling. You’ll love it, too. It’ll be a splendid affair, and the last one you ever see.” She sneered down at the resting king and curled her nose up in disdain for the man. There was no attraction to him. How could she ever be attracted to someone who preferred a corpse over her? She had offered to give him children, but he had told her his son was enough. A mad son, a prince unfit to rule. “And once that’s taken care of, I can remove Prince Taiden from the picture. He’ll be easier than you, of course. He’s already set himself up for a nasty fall. Maybe one from the highest tower?” She chuckled darkly to herself and then gathered up the deep purple skirt of her gown as she crossed to the door of the room, her head high as she went. Even in private Devanna held herself as though all the world could be watching her. It was only when she got downstairs that she discovered the nasty surprise that awaited the castle that morning.
Three members of the guard were gathered tightly together, worry and fear etched in the lines of their faces. A maid joined them with a letter clasped between her thin, shaking fingers. Her face was tearstained and red. Devanna studied the little assembly and then her eyes dropped to the letter. The seal, a deep gold, was undoubtedly the Prince’s. He had designed the monstrosity himself. An ivy leaf with crossbones through it, almost like he was some kind of notorious scoundrel who had the fortune to be sending letters wherever he went. It was another of Prince Taiden’s mad choices, entertained by those around him purely because he was the prince and the heir to Lyris. For now. Devanna had every intention to see to that. But first, she wanted to know what had the whispers starting so early in the day.
“What is going on?” She snapped, striding across the castle hall with every hope that the four scattered, but they did little more than jump at her voice and stumble into bows and a curtsey.
“Your majesty!” One of the guards – she cared not to remember his name – stepped forward and glanced at his two brothers in arms. “There was an incident in the night.”
“What kind of incident? What is the letter from the Prince?” Devanna narrowed her stony eyes and fixed them on the terrified maid. She always preyed on the weakest and in seconds the young girl was crying again, babbling words that meant nothing.
“I – this morning – breakfast – the chamber – letter – gone.”
Devanna made a fist before the girl and suddenly all air was sucked from the girl’s lungs. Her reddened face grew more so and her bloodshot eyes widened. “If you cannot speak then you are not worth keeping around,” she told her wearily, watching in secret bliss as the young maid dropped the letter to the floor in order to claw at her own throat.
“The prince is gone, your majesty!” Another guard shouted, “and so is Captain Julius.”
The shock of the news caused the queen to release the maid from her spell. She dropped to the floor gasping and holding her hands to her neck as she gulped down air.
“What?”
“Both of their horses are gone from the stables. All that they’ve left is the letter.” A guard picked it up and held it out to Devanna before she could hurt anyone else for it.
Snatching it from his gloved hand, Devanna ripped open the seal and roughly pulled the parchment out. Unfolding the paper inside, she found herself staring at just three words. The prince was mocking her in black ink, and Devanna’s blood boiled like never before as she realised exactly what kind of game Taiden was playing.
For Queen Ilia.
The parchment caught fire in Devanna’s hand and she dropped it angrily to the floor, her black eyes hungry and murderous as it burnt away entirely on the harsh stone. The name of the one she hated most surviving until last, laughing at her until the dancing flames finally consumed the bitter letters.