Two weeks after Princess Neve’s poisoning.
THE AURIC GAZETTE
PRINCESS POISONED!
FUTURE BRIDE OF PRINCE ASHER TARGETED IN GHASTLY MURDER ATTEMPT
BY PIERRE DUPONT
Hours after Her Royal Highness Princess Neve accepted His Royal Highness Prince Asher’s marriage proposal, our would-be future queen collapsed during her engagement ball. Nuptial plans have been halted as Essen Castle goes into lockdown following the attempted murder of Princess Neve of Hercynia.
Hercynian officials are still stumped as to who poisoned Princess Neve and why. The even bigger question plaguing the royal physicians is what type of poison was used. Reminiscent of the legend of The Cursed Lady of the Forest, Princess Neve has fallen into a deathlike sleep she has yet to awaken from.
While it doesn’t seem likely a kiss of true love will wake this sleeping beauty, Prince Asher is still being held for questioning, though the Cendril ambassador has assured King Cygrus that our heir apparent had nothing to do with this ghastly assassination attempt. Sources inside of Essen Castle are confident Prince Asher will be released very soon.
Word from Glassen is that King Daurian sends his sympathies to his longtime friend, but is eager for his son to return home. More on page two.
News of Princess Neve’s poisoning was all anyone in Auric could talk about. At both the bakery and the Slippered Tabby, Ella was plagued day and night with talk of the princess. Even at home, the little time she spent there, she listened to Bertie’s rambling conspiracy theories she picked up from every gossip column in the city.
The most popular theory was that a disgruntled noble from Waldreich’s far north had sent the assassin, whoever they were. It didn’t help that King Leonel hadn’t bothered to send any representatives to the engagement ball. While the King of Waldreich had been engaged himself for many years, many believed that one of his council was scorned when putting forth their name as a potential suitor for the young princess.
Another popular theory was that one of Prince Asher’s lovers had poisoned Princess Neve in a fit of jealous rage. Since the prince had many, it was difficult to pinpoint exactly who the most likely candidate would be.
A less popular theory was that the fae were involved. This was met with much disdain, as the fae rarely left their kingdom in the Tenebris Forest, located in the far north of Terrania. Also known as the Kingdom of Malum, much of the fae kingdom was shrouded in mystery.
The only fae who had left the kingdom in years was Lady Nyx, but no one could give a plausible explanation as to why the Faerie Godmother of the Slumps would want Princess Neve dead.
While the fae theory wasn’t taken seriously by the citizens of Auric or any of the officials looking into Princess Neve’s case, the theory had conjured a group of hardcore believers who would not be convinced otherwise. Pierre Dupont’s mention of the famed Cursed Lady of the Forest story seemed to add fuel to their fire.
“It has to be the fae,” said a regular at the bakery to Ella one morning. Mr. Theodore Lepore had been coming into the bakery for years. He was a nice enough man, though very particular about the baguettes he purchased on a weekly basis.
“Why would the fae come out of hiding to kill a princess who has never had anything to do with them?” Agnes asked exasperated as she rang up Mr. Lepore’s order.
Ella thankfully had been tasked with cleaning out the display case, and didn’t have to respond to Mr. Lepore’s ramblings.
“Don’t you see?” Mr. Lepore exclaimed, banging his hand on the countertop, startling Ella in the process. “There’s too much similarity between the lady of the forest and Princess Neve.”
The legend of the Cursed Lady of the Forest told of a beautiful young woman who one hundred years ago ventured into the fae’s kingdom by mistake. The woman was taken as captive by the faerie king, but soon fell in love with her captor. The wicked faerie king was disgusted at the idea of a human loving him, as the fae and humans were natural enemies.
So, one evening, he tricked the young woman into eating poisoned berries, causing the woman to fall into a deathlike sleep, and only the woman’s true love could awaken her. As no one loved the young woman, she supposedly still slept in the fae kingdom, waiting for her true love to set her free.
As with many fairy tales, there was much discrepancy with the details of the Cursed Lady of the Forest story. Some said the woman lived a hundred years ago, others a thousand and there was nothing left of her but dust at this point.
Some said it was one of the poisoned golden apples that only grew in the Kingdom of Malum the unfortunate lady consumed. Others said the king’s sorceress poisoned a spindle and convinced the maiden to prick her finger on it; that alternation was generally dismissed, because why on earth would any maiden go and purposely poke her finger on a spindle? The idea was ludacris.
“Sir, that’s a story used to scare children,” Agnes said, rolling her eyes as she took Mr. Lepore’s money and handed over the baguette.
There had still been no leads on Princess Neve’s poisoning, which meant that the conspiracy theories continued to grow.
Mr. Lepore tucked his baguette under his arm and banged the counter one last time. “You mark my words! That Lady Nyx ordered Princess Neve’s assassination.”
Ella’s hand stilled on the shelf she had been wiping down. She glanced through the glass up at Mr. Lepore in shock. If word got around that someone was accusing the most notorious crime boss in Auric of such a heinous crime, guilty or not, Gods only knew what the Fairy Godmother would do to that individual.
Agnes’s exasperated expression turned dark. “I’d be careful with your words, sir. They say a slip of the tongue is more deadly than any poison.”
Mr. Lepore scoffed and left the shop.
As soon as the door closed behind him, Agnes turned and rubbed the bridge of her nose.
“I swear, if I hear one more person talk about Princess Neve I’ll eat my oven mitt.”
Ella gave a nervous laugh and went about tidying the display case. She was exhausted from her nights of working at the pub, but it had been worth it after the first bottle of Rosalind’s new medicine arrived.
The very next day after she had her first dose, Rosalind was able to walk up and down the stairs without becoming short of breath, something she hadn’t managed to do in years. A few days later, she was able to take a walk down the street.
While the tincture worked at treating Rosalind’s symptoms of the lung disease, it didn’t cure her and she would have to continue to drink it in order to keep feeling the effects. Fifty gelds was a lot of money, especially in a city as expensive as Auric, but the city was also home to some of the best doctors in the country. It was this last fact that kept Ella and her family living in the city despite its rising costs.
Agnes went into the back to begin her prep for the next day, leaving Ella alone. When she was nearly finished cleaning the display, the small silver bell above the door chimed. With a muffled groan, Ella rose from the counter and was surprised to see Edmund standing there.
Ella’s step-siblings rarely visited her at work, mainly because they were usually in school when she worked at the bakery, and she had practically hammered into their heads that if she caught them anywhere near The Slippered Tabby she’d never bring home her freebies from the bakery ever again.
Edmund, who never took anything seriously, had an odd air of distress about him. His eyes were wide and he was biting his lip, a piece of paper clutched between his hands that he was absentmindedly crinkling.
Ella tossed the cloth that she had been using to clean with aside, and moved around the counter.
“What is it?” she asked her step-brother, her voice rising with concern. “What’s happened? Is your mother okay?”
“Mother is fine,” Edmund said, his voice quiet. He was staring at the ground, like he was avoiding Ella’s eye. “Bertie is with her.”
Relief flooded through Ella’s chest, and she let out a long breath. At least Rosalind was fine, but if there wasn’t anything wrong with her, why was Edmund at the bakery?
Ella glanced down at the piece of paper Edmund was scrunching about in his hands. “What’s that?”
Edmund’s hands stilled and his entire body seemed to stiffen with nerves. He handed the paper over to Ella and murmured, “this was in the letterbox when Bertie and I got home.”
Silently, Ella took the paper and scanned the neat writing, her heart sinking with every word. Leaning back on the counter for stability, Ella’s mind spun as she tried to make sense of what she had just read. It was a letter from their landlord, and their rent was increasing by another fifty gelds.
Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.
That had to be a mistake. Fifty gelds? The rent had never gone up by more than five gelds in the seven years that they had lived there. On top of Rosalind’s new medicine, there was no way Ella could afford that, even with her second job at the pub.
“Does your mother know?” Ella asked, the contents of her stomach rolling as she suppressed the urge to throw up.
Edmund shook his head. “Bertie and I looked at it outside and then I came right here.” He paused for a moment, shuffling his feet on the worn, wood floor and tugging at the cuffs of his jacket. “Bertie and I can get jobs.”
Scrunching the letter into a ball in her hands, Ella looked up at him. “You still have another couple of months of school left.” When Edmund opened his mouth to speak again, she cut in, “and you’re not dropping out.”
Frowning, Edmund folded his arms across his chest. “Well, we can at least get after school jobs in the meantime.”
A sad smile tugged at Ella’s lips.
“Look,” she said softly, walking over to place a hand on her step-brother’s shoulder. “It’s sweet you two want to help, but you need to focus on your exams and any after school job you get is only going to give you a handful of gelds. It won’t be enough to cover this?”
“But what are we going to do then?” Edmund asked. “There’s no way you can afford that on your own.”
He was right. Ella knew he was right. As of the next month their rent was jumping to 150 gelds, not including food, Rosalind’s medical bills from the doctors, school supplies for the twins, Ella glanced down at Edmund and realized he was going to need new boots soon.
She only made a geld an hour at both jobs. The pub brought in tips but not nearly enough to afford this new rent.
Stuffing the ball of paper into her skirt pocket, she pulled Edmund in for a hug and said, “don’t worry about it. I’ll figure it out.”
After Edmund had left, Ella began to panic scrub every surface of the bakery. When Agnes came out to let her know it was closing time, she blinked and looked around the shop.
“Wow, you’ve been busy.”
“Yeah,” Ella replied but offered nothing else.
“Everything okay?” Agnes asked, leaning against the doorframe as Ella went into the back to grab her jacket. The snow from a few weeks back had thankfully melted, but it was still cold out.
Ella stuffed an arm into a jacket sleeve. “I found out my rent is going up next month.”
Agnes winced. “What’s the damage?” She winced again when Ella told her. “Sorry,” she said, and she sounded like she meant it. Ella didn’t even bother asking for a raise; Agnes could barely afford to keep her on as it was, and had only taken Ella because she had been friend’s with Ella’s father.
“Keep your chin up and everything will work out,” Agnes said as they walked out of the bakery, Agnes pausing to lock the door behind her. Ella bit her lip and said nothing. All her life she had been “keeping her chin up” and so far it hadn’t worked out at all.
“I’ll see you tomorrow,” Ella said, stuffing her hands into her jacket pockets and headed home. She always stopped in to quickly have dinner before hurrying to start her shift at the pub.
When she got there, Bertie had several cold cut sandwiches laid out. Ella made a mental note to leave some money for groceries. Sandwiches usually meant they were running low on food.
Rosalind was sitting at the table with Edmund and Bertie, waiting for her.
“There you are. We’ve been waiting for you to eat,” Rosalind said, and judging by the cheerful look on Rosalind’s face, neither of her children had mentioned the rent increase yet.
Cowards, Ella thought to herself.
“How was work?” Rosalind asked as Ella hung up her jacket at the door and joined them.
Ella shrugged. “It was work.”
Edmund and Berite glanced nervously at her, but Ella ignored them and helped herself to a sandwich. She was too tired to have this conversation right now.
“When is your next day off?” Rosalind asked, not picking up on the tension surrounding her children. “I thought maybe we could go for a walk in the park and have a picnic.”
It was still freezing out, but Rosalind had always loved having picnic lunches in the nearby park. Now that she was able to move about for more than a minute without getting winded, it was no surprise she wanted to go out again.
“I’ll have to double check my schedule at the pub.”
The bakery was open every day except Sundays, but Ella’s schedule at the pub wasn’t as routine and Barron liked her to go in earlier on weekends. The answer seemed to satisfy Rosalind.
“Why are you two being so quiet?” Rosalind asked, turning to her children, who both reddened considerably in the dim light of the gas lamps.
“Nothing,” Bertie squeaked, while Edmund muttered something about having homework and excused himself from the table. Rosalind turned to look at Ella, her face questioning. Ella shrugged and bit into her sandwich.
The pub was packed later that night, which was more than fine with Ella. More customers usually meant more tips, and she needed all the gelds she could get. Working alongside Winnie, she poured glass after glass, laughing extra hard each time a customer made a joke and batting her eyelashes a little more than necessary.
It worked. With each glass she slid across the table, one or two extra gelds were heaped on the counter in front of her. Ella slid them into the cash box with a smile.
Around midnight it was so busy that even Barron crept out from his back office to help, which was a rarity.
Just as Ella was pouring a pint for a regular, the pub door swung open and Izar and Braken came sauntering into the bar as if they owned the place. Beside her, Barron turned a sickly shade of green and his hand began to shake terribly as he handed off a drink to a customer.
“Izar. Braken,” he greeted, his smile wavering on his face. Winnie looked nervously between the newcomers and scurried over to the far side of the counter to help some other customers.
“What can I get you?” Barron continued, stammering over his words.
“Sadly, we’re not here for pleasure,” Izar said, his eyes trailing over to where Ella was handing off the pint glass she had been filling. A cold feeling shot down her spin as if someone had dragged ice along it. “Boss wants her cut early again.”
Around the pub, tension filled the air. Several patrons paled and pulled tightly together, clearly trying to avoid the eye of the Fairy Godmother’s men.
Somehow, Barron went even paler. He motioned for Izar and Braken to follow him over to the side, away from the other customers.
“I just gave you her money for this month,” Ella heard him say in a hurried, hushed voice. The voices of the other customers began to pick up again, but they were much less lively then they had been minutes before.
“Unfortunately, something came up and the boss needs her clients to pay a little early again,” Izar said with a bored shrug.
“What could possibly have come up-” Barron began, but Braken cut him off.
“That’s none of your business,” he snapped, folding his arms and glaring down at the quaking man. “Either pay up or lose the lady’s friendship.”
Ella was almost certain Barron was going to pass out at this point. After a moment of looking between the men desperately, his shoulders slumped back in defeat.
“Just a moment,” he finally stammered. He went into the back and returned with another bag of jingling coins, begrudgingly passing it over to Izar, who took it with a slimy smile.
“Lady Nyx sends her regards,” he said, slipping the coins inside his jacket and turning towards the door.
As soon as Izar and Braken left, several of the customers let out bated breaths and went back to drinking once the threat of danger had passed, the cloud heavy tension drifting away with each passing second.
Barron didn’t look quite so relieved. He was slumped over the side of the counter, staring off but not really looking at anything in particular. He stayed there like that for several minutes. Ella and Winnie exchanged nervous glances, each silently egging the other on to go talk to him.
Finally, as things in the pub started to settle down and all of the patrons were happily drinking away, Ella relented and made her way over to him.
“Barron?” She said his name like a question. Barron made a low, grunting noise in the back of his throat to indicate that he had heard her. “Are you alright?”
“Fine. I’m fine.” He still wouldn’t look at her, his eyes fixed on the back of the pub door, and his voice was filled with so much tension Ella felt stiffen in solidarity. She opened her mouth again but Barron pushed himself upright and headed to the back, muttering over his shoulder about needing to do some paperwork.
Blinking, Ella looked back at Winnie, who was standing a short distance away. Winnie shrugged in indifference, but concern danced in her eyes.
The night went on without any other incident. Barron stayed in the back, much like a rabbit hiding in its hole after narrowly escaping a fox.
When it was finally time to close and Ella was ushering the last of the men out the door, turning the deadbolt into position with an echoing thud, Barron finally emerged from the back.
He hadn’t recovered much during his time in hiding, dragging his feet on the floor and refusing to meet Ella and Winnie’s eyes as he stammered about how he wasn’t going to be able to give them their tips that week.
“What?” Winnie snapped. She narrowed her eyes and gripped the glass she had been wiping so tightly that a small fractured appeared in its side. Ella, who felt a large lump forming in her throat, said nothing as Winnie continued.
“Tonight was the best night for tips in weeks! What do you mean you can’t give us them? We have bills, you know?”
Ella didn’t trust herself to speak without bursting into angry tears, so she just nodded along.
“I”m sorry,” Barron said so miserably that Ella actually believed him. “Izar and Braken came two weeks early. I haven’t managed to save up enough to pay them.”
“How is that our fault?” Winnie said, slamming the glass down on the counter, causing the small crack to split down the side. “I told you getting involved with Lady Nyx and the Nightshades was stupid.”
Barron slammed a hand down onto the counter, causing both women to jump. “What was I supposed to do? My only options are to either pay the evil witch or watch my pub burn to the ground.”
Winnie huffed but said nothing. She knew just as well as Barron and Ella that there was no other solution, having been the one to have explained to Ella that the only reason the Slippered Tabby remained untouched by vandals and thieves was due to the Nightshades’ protection.
Barron’s face grew redder, though Ella wasn’t sure if it was from stress or anger. Perhaps both.
“Look,” he said, balling his fists at his sides. “You’re still getting your regular wages, I promise you that, but the tips are going to have to go to Lady Nyx for the foreseeable future, or else none of us are going to have a job here.”
He turned on his heel and stormed off to the back before Winnie could berate him further.
Letting out an angry groan, Winnie threw her rag on the counter. “How in the world am I supposed to pay my rent now?”
Ella was very much wondering the same thing. With each passing second she felt her heart fall deeper into her stomach. Between the rising cost of food, her step-mother’s medicine, and now rent, she had no idea how she was going to pay for anything.
Suddenly, a thought occurred to her. It wasn’t a good thought. In fact it was incredibly stupid and she knew she’d one day regret it the second it floated into her head, but desperate times called for desperate measures, and Ella was most certainly desperate.
“Hey, Winnie?” she said quietly, hating the question before it even spilled from her tongue. “Where exactly is The Glass Pumpkin?”