Chapter 41
I could not swallow all of it. My stomach turned most dreadfully.
I tore myself away from Her Majesty, and the substance spilled from the vial, splashing on my face and the floor as I collapsed forward, gagging upon the rug in her study. The potion this morning was especially foul. It was so acrid that I vomited what little I had eaten for breakfast.
The taste… oh Ombrithar, how does one describe something that does not belong in this world? It was as though all that had ever spoiled had gathered upon my tongue.
When there was nothing left, my body convulsed with dry heaves. Long and clear saliva streamed from my lips, pooling in the mess before me.
At last, it ended. I rolled to my side, lying in silence beside the ruin, soaked with sweat. My strength had left me.
Her Majesty's gaze flickered. Her golden eyes trembled. She bent slightly toward me, but then paused… and straightened with grace. Her usual playful smile returned. Her hands folded behind her back, as though nothing had happened.
I felt as though knives were slowly cutting through my chest, twisting as they went. Each inch of my heart sliced away in silence. It hurt terribly. Strangely, my tears did not come.
She turned from me and moved to the door. "Summon Dr. Fexmere," she said toward it, meant for a staff behind it.
Then she returned to her desk and resumed working, while I remained on the floor. It was clear now. Whatever affection she once held for me had long since faded. That brief flicker of concern I saw upon her face must have been feigned. A moment of courtesy, nothing more.
"Thank you, Your Majesty," I said softly. "For pretending to care. It was very kind of you, and I do mean that. May Ombrithar bless you always."
The room fell into silence, and we remained as we were until Dr. Fexmere arrived.
"Examine Lady Naevia," she ordered simply.
"Your Majesty, your hand… it is bleeding," the doctor said, stepping forward. I rose in haste, hurrying to Her Majesty's side despite myself. Even knowing she no longer loved me, I could not quiet the care that stirred in my heart.
I caught sight of her left hand, and there, pressed into the soft flesh of her palm, were four angry narrow gashes. The wounds were not deep, but they had broken the surface enough for fine lines of blood to weep along the creases of her hand. The pattern was evenly spaced. They had not been there before. I was certain of it. She had not left the room, and there were no sharp objects upon her desk. How, then, had her hand come to look like this?
"Your Majesty, you must not clench your fist so tightly," Dr. Fexmere continued. "You must take care of your body. It belongs to your people now. Please, permit me to tend the wound."
Clenched her fist?
Ah… then those marks were made by her own nails.
My lips quivered.
She must have been angry with me for failing to take all liquid. I ought to have borne the sickness in silence, I ought to have swallowed everything. It was my fault she was hurt.
A weight sank in my chest. How could I allow such harm to come to her? I had no right to remain at her side.
I stepped back, just in case she hurt herself again on account of me.
"I am sorry, Your Majesty," I whispered, folding my hands tightly and drawing my shoulders inward in remorse. "Next time, I shall swallow it all. I am feeling quite well. There is no need for an examination, but I thank you most sincerely for your concern. If it pleases you, I should like to excuse myself now. I imagine you desire some quiet."
I offered her a bow and took my leave from the study.
---
"How was your meal?" Nerissea asked as she sat beside me on the sofa.
It was midday, and we were alone in my bedchamber. I had just finished my luncheon, though I had eaten very little. My appetite had vanished. Nerissea typically dined with Her Majesty. I was not invited to join them unless Her Majesty desired our session to involve food.
"I overheard the maids saying you scarcely touch your meals," she said.
I looked down at my hands resting in my lap.
She continued. "I heard the greenhouse renovations have been completed. The gardeners say it is quite beautiful. Perhaps the view there might lift your spirits."
"Only if you accompany me." I turned to her.
"I am afraid I cannot," she said, still smiling. "Slaves are not permitted within the greenhouse. Even the gardeners must report to the butler before they enter."
I straightened, feeling a little ashamed. She was trying to cheer me. And I, in my melancholy, had only made her worry more.
"Then perhaps I shall sneak you in," I said, rising to fetch my cloak from the hook near the door.
She laughed softly and rose as well. "That may be possible. But if we are caught, we shall be in dreadful trouble."
"We must simply be careful. Nerissea… I wish to see that place with you."
Truthfully, I had not thought much of the greenhouse itself. But the notion of seeing it with her made me long for it in earnest.
"How much do you wish to see it with me?" she asked.
"This much," I said, stretching my arms wide at either side.
She stepped closer, wearing the rarest smile, one touched with mischief. I could not look away.
"If you truly mean to sneak me in, I believe I have a plan. Shall I share it with you?"
I nodded at once. Her mischievous smile was nothing like Her Majesty's. Her Majesty's was debauch looking, but Nerissea's was something else entirely different. It was refined, enchanting, and impossible to resist. It felt as though it reached into one's soul, making one feel as though they would yield to any sinful thing she might conjure.
"There is always a guard stationed at the entrance. But it is really quite simple," she began, pacing slowly around me. I turned my head to follow her.
"All you must do is ask him to fetch you some tea, and offer to stand watch in his stead. He cannot deny a noblewoman's request," she said.
When she drifted too far to my left, I turned my head right, seeking her again.
"He will be forced to find the nearest servant. Once he is gone, I shall slip inside. When it is time to leave, you will ask him to return the tea set. Again, he must go. And that will be my cue to slip out."
She stopped in front of me. The mischief faded from her smile.
"Nerissea?" I said, narrowing my eyes.
"Yes, Naevia? Were you listening just now?"
"Can you smile like that again?"
"Pardon?"
"The smile you gave me earlier. Do it again."
"And how did I smile, exactly?"
"Nerissea!"
"What?" she laughed.
"Do you know that smile of yours is like a magnet? It draws one in without mercy."
"I had no idea," she said, then lightly poked my left cheek with her finger. "I have never smiled that way for anyone else. Did you hear what I said earlier?"
"I… yes," I replied, cheeks warming.
"Now is the perfect time. Her Majesty is with the royal ministers for the next few hours. She shall not call for us."
"Let us go," I said, beaming.
And so we set out for the newly restored greenhouse.
We followed Nerissea's plan precisely, and she slipped inside without trouble, though I trembled the entire time. I had never done anything so daring. My heart pounded with both fear and excitement.
Once inside, we shed our cloaks, for the air within was warm and sweet, like spring enclosed in glass.
"We are quite alone," she whispered, smiling.
And then… oh, Ombrithar.
The sight before me stole the breath from my lungs.
The entire space was draped in white. White roses bloomed in gentle clusters. Ivory lilies unfurled like silk. Pale, rare plants with silver-tipped leaves stood proudly among them. Every petal, every blade of grass, every vine seemed to shimmer faintly, as though kissed by moonlight. Even the tree branches were white, and the birds were soft-feathered and pale as snow.
It felt as though I had stepped into a sacred painting. Into heaven itself.
Though all was white, it was not dull. Each flower gleamed in its own unique light. The air itself carried a hush of enchantment.
Magic gems were used here. I was certain of it. Though I could not name them, for there were too many to guess.
"It is overwhelmingly beautiful," Nerissea said, her eyes drifting from bloom to bloom. "Thank you for bringing me here, Naevia."
"I shall bring you whenever you wish to return," I replied, reaching for her hand. She smiled as our fingers laced together, and we continued along the glistening white path.
"Oh, Nerissea," I said, suddenly recalling something. "About your evening soup… the one prepared only for you. Forgive me, there has been much on my mind and I have quite forgotten to ask. May I know… why is it made especially for you?"
She withdrew her hand and stepped in front of me, walking backward with ease, her hands folded behind her back.
"Do you truly wish to know?" she asked.
"Yes," I said, keeping close to her.
"I shall tell you… if you can catch me," she said with a mischievous smile.
And off Nerissea went.
Her sky-blue gown fluttered behind her, and her soft pastel hair streamed like silk in motion. She glanced over her shoulder, and the smile she gave me was one I rarely seen. It was the smile of a woman who had forgotten sorrow and simply delighted in being alive.
My heart stirred. I did not know whether it was from the sight of her walking backward with such effortless grace, or the rare mischief that had lit her eyes only moments before. Perhaps it was her brightness now, or the way her hair danced behind her.
I chased after her.
I turned where she vanished, only to catch glimpses of blue and pink vanishing into the white haze of the garden. Her laughter echoed through the air, light and full of life.
Time itself seemed to waver. The world slowed, and yet it moved too swiftly.
She turned left, and I turned left. She turned right, and I followed. She circled the great fountain at the heart of the garden, where the marble statue of Our Blessed Mother stood in prayer. I followed close behind, breathless. My fingers stretched out, nearly touching her.
But she twisted away with a delighted spin, and off she went again.
We passed beneath tall trees, beside still ponds and beds of white blossoms. Upon the path ahead, a cluster of white birds walked freely upon the ground. She ran straight through them, laughing, and they rose into the air in a flurry of wings. Some scattered away, while others gave playful chase, as though they had long been waiting for her to come.
I seemed to behold the scene in slow motion. Oh Ombrithar… if time could be stilled, I would wish it to be now.
At the path's end, she turned left, where a long straight walkway stretched ahead. She ran along it, holding out a hand toward me with a glance over her shoulder.
"I suppose you cannot catch me," she called through her laughter.
At last, she reached a dead end.
She stopped and turned to face me, panting, her lips parted in mirth. Her eyes curved like crescent moons, and joy lingered on her face.
"I am caught," she chuckled.
I stepped to her, placing one hand at the back of her head, the other around her waist. I drew her close, my lips but a whisper away from hers.