Katherine was reluctant to admit to herself that she had her heart broken, if only with the implication that, while her own lust had to be seated upon a chair of truth and fidelity, the same rules did not apply to Diane. She did not care for Freyza in particular, but this made him far more interesting to her than he ever could have been as favourite. Thankfully, there was much to distract her.
Henry and Henri, the unfortunately named duo, had resumed their practice together with the former’s friends and the latter’s knights, and Katherine enjoyed watching them greatly. The ladies amused themselves well. Grace even befriended Henry’s squire, who Katherine had not realised had been a young woman all this time, though obviously not a type that Henry would come to be infatuated with, or so she told herself.
Much was to be done to avoid Louise or any prying eyes that might lead to her. A spontaneous trip to the countryside, causing a carriage to break down so Henri and her may spend the night blue-torched on the side of a winding country road in the wilderness, and a growing base of intimate knowledge about the secrets of Souchon Palace’s many unused passageways, were each weapons of her resistance. It only took a few more weeks for Katherine to be invited to a banquet by Louise.
It was the middle of the week, two days before Charlie’s birthday that would be celebrated with an elaborate ball, as he was still in Henri’s greatest of grace despite his missing eye and the chip in his cheerfulness that the loss of his eye had caused him. Katherine reserved the hair washing for that party instead, where she hoped to arrive to the ballroom with a full head of artificially crimped curls that only turned out as brilliantly unnatural if they were done on freshly laundered hair that was just a hair off from fully dry.
She arrived, therefore, at the banquet wearing what she wore to council that morning, with her hair roughly pulled into braids and covered with a sheer veil as was Argentan fashion. It was only midday and the occasion was not specified.
The fire was roaring to get the humidity of the recent rain out of the walls and flooring, and Katherine was one of the first to arrive as to greet other guests later on. At the table sat Louise and Silouane, with Sophie and Henri to Silouane’s side and Theo and Azeline to Louise’s. There was a single spot for her reserved to Henri’s side.
‘My beautiful family,’ Katherine mused as she entered, dragging her feet somewhat. ‘What an honour to be invited to your side today.’
Silouane smiled — it was the nearest thing to hospitality that she would expect. ‘The honour is ours.’
Louise was quiet, not even appearing particularly fierce by the look on her face. Katherine studied the minutiae of it as she sat down after having bowed softly before them.
After a while, other guests began to pour in. Dukes and counts, then knights, high-placed courtiers. Katherine looked directly at the entrance, with no chairs being seated just to her opposite. The other tables were filling up, after everyone paused by the main table to bow and say their thanks for being invited.
The last man to arrive was Freyza.
Katherine rolled her eyes. Of course it’s the ambassador…
He walked in, eyeing the others nervously, with his hands behind his back and his posture slightly slouched. She noticed how much less prestigious he looked compared to the day that she came back to Souchon. He wore simple clothes that were distinctly Sbaian: instead of the doublet and breeches, he wore loose trousers and a belted tunic. On his head, which usually bore a turban, paradoxically now carried a flat cap. His hair was uncombed and ungroomed, causing both the hair on his head as well as his beard to appear frizzy and dull. He bowed somewhat halfheartedly before the table at which the royalty sat.
‘Your Majesty, Your Majesty, Your Highness, Your Highness, Your Highness, my lord, my lady,’ he said, nodding at whoever he intended the greeting to, ‘I wish to thank you for your hospitality in extending an invitation to this grand affair this afternoon.’
‘Our pleasure,’ said Louise, and wrinkled her nose.
The ruggedness looked rather fitting on him, Katherine thought. Perhaps his dealings with Diane, and therefore at the edge of Henri’s camarilla, had taken some of that decency out of him. They briefly exchanged a glance before Freyza cast his eyes down again. His eyelids coloured grey against the olive tan of his skin. It was the sort of handsomeness she could appreciate, rather than the overly cut and trimmed dandy type he had imitated before, approximating a Lord Fairfax in suaveness and polish.
It mattered not, she wished to repeat to herself. This was the only man at court she could not conquer, and that made him all the more fascinating.
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He sat down at a table of ambassadors and their administrators: a crowd in which he felt himself both physically and hierarchically uncomfortably big in. The ambassadors of Neuhausen and Argento were barely even nobility, and whatever was left of the Baradran ambassador, it was common knowledge that the small twitchy grandfather opposite him had too little life in him for a conversation. He was not there for the banquet or the company. He had not been left a choice but to go.
Freyza was pleased to see Katherine again. Though she was simply dressed and seemed to care little, the delicate white silk of her veil coloured her skin a pastel peach and her eyes a milky green. He could not speak his mind, but he hoped at least a sliver of it came through in his gaze. Even now, he felt himself drawn to her as she agitatedly swivelled the wine in her goblet. The longing was interspersed with shame about his own appearance — had he known she would be present, at least he would have trimmed his beard and worn appropriate headwear.
Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.
His stomach turned when he realised the implications of her presence at the table, considering that he had an inkling about why he was invited in the first place. A few days ago, he had placed the poison into the drawer that Theo had requested it to be put into. In its place lay the invitation to this very banquet as well as a pouch of gold.
Though Freyza did not particularly want the gold, he imagined leaving it there may have been insulting. The invitation, however, was worded in such a way that he imagined not going would have a treacherous effect…
Katherine looked at him again, and he could not help but return the stare of unrequited longing. The lie would have worked — hell, if Bayezid even believed him, it was likely a good one.
He was glad to see that his recent developments conjured up some royal interest. He had thought for a while about Katherine’s return and each passing thought began to realise he wished to kick himself more and more. Had he had just one more opportunity to see her, speak to her, explain himself, he was sure of it once more that she would understand…
It only took a generous bribe of gold pieces and a set of diamond jewels to convince Diane to undertake the theatre production that was pretending to be his lover. If Katherine wished to be wooed by a rake, a rake he would become. If she wished to prove her superiority to her great rival, she needed who she had to sway.
He hardly believed that the plan had worked, at least insofar as that she looked at him as if to beckon him nearer. That very second, servants began to ventilate dainty little glasses with a black tarry liquid in them.
One for each attendee.
Freyza immediately got the chills and sought Louise, but realised that Theo was on his way over to his table. The chair on his right was empty.
Theo sat down with a thud and took the goblet in his hand. ‘Master Freyza,’ he began, coating the glass with the thick fluid by swishing the glass by its stem. ‘Impressive, no?’
‘What’s impressive, my lord?’ asked Freyza hesitantly.
‘Is this your poison?’ Theo asked, raising it up to Freyza’s nose. ‘If you were to guess.’
Freyza sniffed it and looked at Theo’s amused face. ‘Yes,’ he said. ‘I smell something off about it, if that’s what you ask of me.’
Theo snickered and threw the glass back. ‘That is a fantastic compliment,’ he said, going so far as to lift the remainder off of the surface of the glass with his finger. ‘If a rather grim observation.’
Freyza was unsure of how to react. He whispered, ‘Why did you ask me?’
‘Loyalty, Freyza,’ Theo said. ‘Have a drink.’
‘No,’ he scoffed. Another chill went down his body when he saw the royal table drink their glasses of black goop dry. ‘Where have I ended up, Theo?’
Theo clicked his tongue. ‘The precipice of our trust,’ he said. ‘Drink.’
He braced himself as he brought the glass to his lips, and took the first sip. He was mortified. For certain he knew that what he was drinking was the poison he had supplied to them. Was it both doses, or would another theatrically fall with him? Who would that unlucky someone turn out to be?
He finished it in grave defiance of his fate and put it down, knowing that he would fall to the floor any moment now and disgrace himself one final time before Katherine. Yet, that did not happen as fast as he thought.
Theo sat beside him, his lips pursed, paying attention to Freyza’s every move, as more and more guests began to sip their drinks under the enjoyment of their conversations. His breath quickened in anticipation, and yet, nothing happened.
Even though he was fine, suddenly he heard a loud coughing coming from another table, where a coronet-wearing duke and his family sat. An adolescent boy stood up, bent his shoulders and back over, wheezed and coughed until the rest of the attendees had gone quiet.
That was until one of the servants, a middle-aged woman with golden hair, dropped a platter and joined the cacophony of choking and wheezing. That was two, thought Freyza, and was ashamed to notice that he calmed knowing that it was unlikely that he had been poisoned.
Theo chuckled as both victims fell to the floor and the crowd turned to terrified shrieks, some even fleeing altogether. ‘Funny that it was a servant,’ he said, leaning into Freyza, ‘Because she shouldn’t even have had any.’
‘This was a gamble?’ asked Freyza, his jaw falling open in disbelief. ‘Anyone could’ve died?’
Theo nodded slowly as the royal family was hurried towards one of the doors. Louise was the last to leave, carrying the act of the surprised mother terrified by the happenings rather well. As she turned to Theo and Freyza just as she was about to slip out of the room, Freyza swore he saw her smile.
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That night, shortly after the family had left, the rest of the banquet disbanded, and Freyza returned to his quarters beaten by the happenings and itching for a bottle of something strong. Anyone could have died. Theo’s affirmation of that statement haunted him. He had gambled his life. He had gambled the lives of Henri, of Katherine, of Louise and Theo…
And yet, Theo surrendered it so willingly. He had scraped the custardlike crud from the bottom of the elegant glass and licked it off of his finger. He had forced Freyza to join this lethal exercise in trust — trust that Freyza really had no business having.
He was sick to his stomach and yet drunk wine from a bottle, letting himself fall into the chair by his writing desk in order to flop over, his chest and head leaning onto the cold surface of the wood. Only then did he realise the heat that had been coming from his face, and how red it must have looked.
There was a sudden knock on the door, and when he looked up, saw Iskander standing in its frame. ‘Master…’ he said. ‘A lady is here to see you.’
Freyza lowered his head again and said, muffled by his arm, ‘Sure there is, at this hour.’
‘A lady from Ilworthian court.’
‘Tell her that it’s Bayezid who requested the services of a whore,’ he added. ‘Two doors to her left.’
‘Master…’ Iskander began uncomfortably.
Nothing followed, so Freyza looked up, just in time to catch a glimpse of Lady Constance’s blonde head as she turned to the side. ‘Oh, dear,’ he said and straightened himself. ‘I, uh. I’ve had a day, Lady Constance. I’m sure Her Majesty must have told you. If you heard me before, rest assured it was meant in jest — none of the Sbaian ambassadors or their staff are requesting the services of any prostitutes. Nor are there prostitutes within Souchon Palace as far as I know.’
Constance smiled knowingly and entered, fidgeting with a slip of paper between her fingers. ‘Good evening, Lord Freyza,’ she said and nodded once. ‘Not a problem. I know Lord Bayezid and you like to jest. He told me so himself.’
‘Aha,’ said Freyza. ‘What were you meaning to seek me for?’
Constance held out the slip of paper. ‘From what I gather, my lord, you were seeking Her Majesty’s eye tonight. She would be rather pleased to see you at her soonest masked ball, and you have her blessing to ask her for a dance.’
Freyza took it wordlessly and looked Constance up and down, awaiting any sign that this was meant in jest as well.
Constance continued: ‘Must I tell Her Majesty anything upon my return to her side?’
Freyza felt himself blush. ‘Yes! Yes… well, please if it would suit you, tell Her Majesty that I am immensely grateful for the opportunity to attend and I fully intend to ask her for a dance. And that I wish her a good night, of course, and that she looked stunning tonight.’
She chuckled softly and crossed her arms. ‘I won’t tell her, Master Freyza, that you were flushing and scrambling for words when you say this to me. Is that alright by you?’
‘Certainly,’ said Freyza. ‘I’m afraid my usual eloquence has faded tonight.’