Sev looked around, terror ratcheting his heartbeat to a painful rhythm. It was too late to call everything off; the dinner pots and waterskins had already been poisoned, and it was only a matter of time before their contents were eaten and their ill effects shown.
At the mouth of the nearest cave, one of the cooks tried to dump her pot, while a bondservant poured extra flour into a bowl of batter. If diluted, they might make only a few guards sick and spare their lives. All around Sev there was feverish panic, while the glint of steel and the tread of heavy boots muffled the rush of whispers and the sight of Trix’s cohorts trying to abort their plan. A secondary line of pack animals and the bondservants who managed them came into view, making their way toward Sev. He looked for Kade or Trix or anybody he recognized, but they were lost in the crowd.
As the arriving soldiers settled into their camp, stew was served up, bread was fried, and waterskins were passed around. The Fire Blossoms were meant to work within thirty minutes, ensuring that everyone in the camp would be eating by the time the effects started to show.
The leader of the second party joined Captain Belden in his tent, and Sev wondered how his presence might complicate Trix’s plans—if she still intended to go through with them. If they managed to kill both captains, would that be enough to put a halt to the attack? Even if it was, it wouldn’t guarantee the survival of the bondservants. There were too many soldiers now, too many packs and stewpots and mouths to feed. It was a disaster, and all Sev could do was wait for it to unfold.
It started with retching.
Followed by gagging, spitting, and cursed complaints of stomach pains.
Then several soldiers ran into the forest or the darkness of the caverns, staggering off to empty their stomachs or their bowels.
Sev didn’t know what was worse: the sound or the smell.
Others followed those that didn’t come back, and soon waterskins and liquor jugs were sniffed and poured out. Rust-colored smears dyed the fingers of the soldiers who examined the contents, and bowls of food were dumped into the grass.
Shouts, cries, and accusations. The food was disgusting; the food was spoiled.
The food was poisoned.
Once those words were uttered, the camp dissolved into chaos. Attendants and cooks were rounded up, dragged through the dirt and grass and thrown onto their knees. Sev saw crying servants, begging for mercy, executed with blades across their throats, while those who tried to run were taken down with arrows or spears. Sev squeezed his eyes shut, praying Junior and the others had the sense to keep quiet and stay out of the way. The bondservants didn’t officially have anything to do with meal preparation, but they did manage the transportation of the food supplies, and it seemed that everyone except for the soldiers was under scrutiny.
The packs! Sev remembered, whirling around. With the new soldiers arriving, no one had come to relieve the perimeter guard yet. If he managed to hide the evidence of what he’d done, he could hopefully save the bondservants on pack animal duty from suspicion. He pushed through the crush of llamas—who tossed their heads and stomped their feet in the face of all the commotion from the camp—struggling to find the supplies he’d tampered with.
Sev was fumbling with a strap when footsteps sounded behind him. They were uneven, stumbling, and with a slight drag.
He turned and saw Ott standing there, wavering slightly on the spot, sweat dotting his brow and what looked like a smear of vomit across his chin. Sev wasn’t surprised to see him sick—he never missed a chance to be first in line to get food, drink, or his choice of assignment. He held his trusty crossbow loosely in one hand, as if he could attack the poison that was slowly killing him from the inside.
Ott blinked at Sev, gaze drifting from his hands—halfway inside the nearest pack—to the food on the ground, which Sev had hastily dropped and stomped on. He lurched forward, faster than Sev would have thought possible given the state he was in, and gripped Sev’s arm. Ott yanked Sev’s hand from the pack, twisting it to reveal the dark-red smears across his fingers.
Shoving the arm back with a sneer, Ott raised the crossbow, leveling it directly at Sev’s forehead.
“Traitor,” he slurred.
“Ott,” Sev said, glancing to either side of him. He was blocked in on all sides, the llamas a mass of woolly bodies who skittered and shuffled nervously. His other hand was still inside the satchel, and he tried to surreptitiously check for a weapon or something heavy, anything he might use to help him escape. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I—”
“Shut your mouth!” Ott shouted, his voice hoarse. Around him, the llamas’ panic was a palpable taste on Sev’s tongue, and his own fear was ripe.
Ott bent double and coughed, lowering the crossbow as he hacked and spit. Sev tried to make a run for it, but Ott had the weapon back up the moment he saw Sev shift his feet.
“Don’t—you—dare,” he forced out. More footsteps sounded nearby, and Ott perked up. “Hey, hey, over here!” he called frantically, but his voice was too weak to carry. He took a deep breath and filled his lungs before calling out again, “Over here. I caught—”
Ott’s words were cut off by a loud crunch. Out of nowhere, a heavy branch cracked into his head, knocking him to the dirt in an unconscious heap.
Standing over his prone body was Kade.
He tossed aside the stick and picked up Ott’s dropped crossbow.
Then he aimed it directly at Sev’s heart.
I cared not for the romantic love of men and women. All I wanted was the throne that was my birthright and to have Pheronia by my side. She would be my heir, and her children after her.
- CHAPTER 32 -
SEV
NO, KADE’S CROSSBOW WASN’T aimed at Sev’s heart, but at his shoulder.
Before Sev had a chance to inhale, a bolt whizzed by his head and landed with a thump, right into the chest of another soldier sneaking up behind him. He whirled, gasping, his brain catching up with the thunderous pump of his heart. It was Jotham; he lay on the ground, blood spreading from the quarrel embedded in his ribs. The llamas skittered away from the noise and the body—though Sev suspected Kade was calming them; otherwise they’d probably have trampled the pair of them in panic.
True night had fallen, and by the time Sev looked up from the corpse, he could barely see Kade as he took Sev’s arm and dragged him away. They left the pack animals and ducked behind the same copse of trees where they’d spoken privately together mere hours before.
Sev stared numbly at the chaos of the camp, just barely glimpsed between the branches, until he realized Kade was no longer next to him. There was a steep slope down to the waterfall and the gurgling pool, and there Kade crouched, silhouetted in the mist that rose from the water.
He was digging.