Poison (6 page)

Noire could not help, but gasp as he stepped into the Sanctuary. He could feel the power, feel its age. The grass beneath his feet was bright green and lush, and the walls were covered with climbing roses all the way up to the very edge of the enormous glass dome. Moonlight poured down on the great tree in the very center of the Sanctuary, the Great Oak that had seen so much tragedy.

It looked petrified, Noire realized—except toward the base, where he could see a bit of real color and health.

"Beautiful, isn't it?" Gael said softly, making him jump. "As the ceremony approaches, the tree will regain its life, though its branches will remain bare until the ceremony succeeds. Every one hundred years, it starts to come back to life, only to be turned once more into stone. Let us hope that this time, we'll succeed." Gael smiled tightly, then resumed walking, Freddie and Noire trailing behind him.

He stopped directly behind the tree and laid Elianne down in the grass. Noire jumped, crying out when vines abruptly sprang from the ground to wrap around her ankles, wrists, and stomach, lilies blooming in the grass above her head. "What's going on?"

"She's been poisoned," Gael said. "I can feel that it was there. Unfortunately, her body has already broken the poison down. I cannot undo what the poison has already done. We will have to hope she wakes on her own in a few days. In the meantime, the Sanctuary is the best place for her. It will sustain and protect her, and if something more happens, we will know it."

Footsteps drew all their attention, and Noire promptly dropped to his knees and bowed his head low.

"Freddie, Gael, whatever is going on?" Etain, the Faerie Queen, had a soft, sweet voice. All who heard her were typically calmed by it, and she could touch the minds of all the faerie children.

She was breathtaking to look upon, as pale as Freddie, Gael, and the Beasts. Her hair was touched with silver and gold and fell all the way to her knees, bound in an elaborate braid. Her eyes were a constant swirl of color, never settling on one for long, and as brilliant as the translucent butterfly-like wings on her back.

"Etain," Gael said quietly, and Noire looked away as Gael kissed the back of her hand. "Someone has poisoned the White Eagle. I do not know what poison, nor what purpose it was meant to serve."

Freddie scowled when she said, "We found her in a sneak hole in an old private temple on her property. Her manservant was killed, and we think he died thinking he was saving her, though that is only supposition."

"I see," Etain said quietly, looking troubled. Gathering up her elaborate, shimmering white skirts, she went and sat down in the grass beside Elianne. Pulling Elianne's head into her lap, Etain laid a hand on her brow and closed her eyes.

A few minutes later, she opened them again and settled Elianne on the grass once more. She lifted a hand, and Gael took it, helping her to her feet. She smiled at him and kissed his cheek.

Noire looked down at Elianne, reached up to touch the silver, teardrop shaped cravat pin holding the elaborate folds of black fabric in place. He did not look up again until Etain said, "Her mind is silent. She is deeply asleep, and I cannot say when—or if—she will wake. We must find the cause of this."

"I will take care of it," Gael said. "The White Eagle falls under my dominion, and she was mine to care for, so I will handle the matter. Should we tell anyone else?"

Freddie shook her head. "Not yet; I think nothing will come of alarming the other Beasts. They have enough strain with the approaching ceremony. Let us see what your investigation reveals. If you are willing to take a suggestion ... "

"Of course," Gael said.

"Use Ailill for it," Freddie said. "He has been out of the country all this time; he has no attachment to the rest of us, not the way we are attached to each other. Someone capable of poisoning a Beast must be close to them, and we are all so close to each other that we will too easily miss something we should see."

Gael nodded. "I see your point and agree completely. Thank you. Noire, are you up to taking a message?"

"Of course," Noire said, and he drew himself up.

"Inform Lord Ailill that he is to report to me and Freddie after morning ceremonies in the green court room."

Noire knelt, bowed his head, and said, "As you bid, highness. By your leave, I will depart now."

"Go," Gael said, and Noire fled, eager to help, desperate to get away from the image of Etain twining her arms through Gael's as the Triad continued to discuss the matter.

Ailill yawned as he entered the palace, longing to be back in bed. What was the point of being a White Beast if he must continuously get up early? He would give away his entire fortune just to be allowed to sleep and wake at his leisure.

Yawning again, he looked around the busy receiving hall, trying to puzzle out which desk he was meant to approach. Though he had visited the other day and had it all explained to him, the entire thing still made no sense. Being a White Beast had been much easier abroad, where most of the people he encountered did not know how a White Beast was meant to behave.

In Verde, however, everyone knew—except Ailill. He was meant to meet directly with Freddie and Gael, which meant he could skip all the desks where commoners lined up to attend various court hearings, lodge complaints, and so forth.

Finally giving up, he decided the ostentatious desk all the way in the back and off to the right was his safest bet. Approaching it, he handed over one of the calling cards that had started mysteriously appearing in his jackets when he put them on and said, "I have an appointment with the prince and princess."

The clerk took the card, but did not look at it. He smiled politely and said, "Of course, your grace. You'll be in the green court room. It's in the west wing, second hall, third door on the left. Would you like an escort?"

"I can show him," Noire said from behind Ailill. He turned and smiled in sleepy greeting, envious that Noire looked tired, but aware and completely at ease.

"You look as tired as I feel," Ailill commented.

Noire nodded in agreement. "Come on, I'm sure they will not keep you overlong. They are neither one inclined toward wasting time."

Ailill grunted and followed him through the wide halls of the palace, finding the entire place as confusing as he had when he'd visited the other day. "I should have brought the jewels and returned them at the same time, but I did not think about it until too late. Your message leaves me thinking that there are bigger concerns afoot."

They lapsed into silence as Noire easily navigated the palace until they stopped in front of a dark wooden door from which hung a placard with the gold-stenciled words 'Occupied'. Opening the door, Noire stepped inside, then turned and bowed Ailill into the room.

It was a simple enough space, big enough to hold a small court session, though not more than thirty people total. The walls were papered in green with a gold and white fleur-de-lis design. The carpet and seat cushions were dark green as well, all the wood a deep, rich gold.

Ailill approached Freddie and Gael then dipped into a low bow, rising when Freddie bid him. Behind them, the door closed with a faint click. "Your highnesses, how might I serve you?"

"Would  you care for anything to drink?" Freddie asked. "Sit, sit. Have some tea. Why do all my Beasts look as though they are ready to fall over? A good breeze would do you in, so sit. Have tea." She all but shoved him down into his chair, and then shoved a tea tray at him.

Amused, but forbearing comment, Ailill poured himself a cup of tea and drank half of it in a go. "Much better," he said. "Thank you, highness. How may I be of service to you?"

"Do you know the White Eagle, Lady Elianne?"

"No, I have not had the pleasure of meeting her grace. I have always heard only good things about her, however, and look forward to meeting her."

"Regretfully, I cannot say when you will get that chance. She has been poisoned and is currently in a coma," Gael said grimly, and Ailill listened, horrified, while he explained all that had happened the previous day. By the time they were done, he had forgotten his tea entirely. "We would like you to look into the matter. Quietly, if possible, and warn us if you cannot continue to do it quietly. You are an insider, but an outsider, which we feel makes you ideal."

Ailill dipped his head and shoulders in a shallow bow. "I am honored that I can be of use, though I regret the purpose to which I am being put. I will spare no effort to solve the mystery. Unless you require I linger, I will go home and prepare to leave immediately for her grace's home. Whatever clues might remain, I will find them."

"I don't think there's any reason for you to linger here," Freddie said. "Thank you for the assistance, White Panther." She kissed his cheek. "Blessing of the Three. Go safely."

He bowed again, then left, only getting lost once on his way back to the receiving hall.

So someone had likely tried to murder the White Eagle—but who, and why? She was an old woman and well-liked. Was it related to the ceremony, or personal?

Personal made more sense, since everyone stood to lose if the ceremony failed. Unless, of course, it was Pozhar all over again and somebody benefited if the Ceremony failed. But he could not believe that of Verde, not when they had always worked so hard for what the other countries had worked against. But, there was no point in theorizing before he had more information. Best to look around the estate as well as the temple where the murder took place and see if that turned up anything. Then he would speak with Lady Elianne's family. If it was a personal matter, they were the likeliest source of the culprit.

If not family, he would move on to colleagues. Outside in the pavilion, Ailill climbed back into his carriage and ordered the driver to take him home. Leaning back in his seat, propping one ankle on the opposite knee and bracing his chin in one hand, he stared out the window, lost in thought.

Depending on how he traveled, based on what Freddie and Gael had told him, it would take two to three days to reach the estate. He would prefer to reach it in two, but there was no telling how long his investigation would take. Best to pack thoroughly and spend the extra day on the road, though he was not looking forward to being trapped in his carriage for so long.

Sighing, he waited impatiently for them to arrive home, all but throwing himself out of the carriage when they finally arrived. Bursting through the front door, he immediately headed for the stairs.

His butler chased after him. "Your grace—"

"I am going on a trip, and I must leave at once. I will be gone several days, at the very least. If I am to be more than a month, I will send word," Ailill said, cutting him off. "If anyone inquires, tell them you know nothing about it, and I'll return when I return. Where—"

"You have a guest, your grace."

Ailill shook his head, but reached reflexively for the calling card presented to him on a silver salver. He motioned impatiently. "I don't have time for a guest. Send whoever it is away and tell them I will see them when I return in a few days."

"Yes, your grace."

"Where do we keep the trunks? I need a small one to hold clothes and such for at least a week."

"I will have something suitable brought out of storage, your grace," the butler murmured and slipped away back down the stairs as they reached the top.

Ailill stood in the hallway a moment trying to sort his thoughts. Pack. Would it be better to go on ahead himself and leave his belongings to catch up to him later? Yes, that idea had merit. Then he could leave straightaway and trust the packing to Andre. That sounded shockingly noble-like—perhaps he would adjust to being one yet.

That reminded him of the guest his butler had mentioned. Who would bother to come visit him? One of the Beasts perhaps? Oh, he supposed it might be Verenne; he really should finally go see her, as she was the only other Beast he had known before he left. Well, that could wait until he got back. Ailill resumed walking toward his bedroom to speak with Andre before he left and glanced down reflexively at the calling card as he went to tuck it away—then froze midstep, nearly losing his balance.

Ivan Mikhailovich Kozlov, Duke of Vaklov

The Duke of Vaklov? That was the title of the Minister of Magic, wasn't it? Why would whoever had been given that Duchy when the Minister was arrested be visiting him? Why would any of the nobility from Pozhar be paying him call? The only people he knew in Pozhar were Ivan and his men ...

He glanced at the name again.
Ivan Mikhailovich Kozlov
.  Ivan. That was too much coincidence. But surely not? Was it possible?

"Wait!" Ailill bellowed as he turned and bolted back down the stairs. "Wait!" he called again, stopping his butler right as he opened the door to the front parlor and nearly knocking his head against it. "Never mind, Gautier. I'll see my caller after all, thank you. If you could see the packing is taken care of and the travel carriage readied?"

Gautier looked at him in surprise, but then quickly schooled his expression and tipped a bow. "Yes, your grace. I will fetch Andre and see he attends your packing. The carriage will be ready in a half hour."

"Thank you," Ailill said. He let go of the door to fix his clothes and smooth his hair back down, trying to regain his calm, though his heart was thudding too hard and fast in his chest for calm to be achievable.

He stared in surprise, mouth falling slightly open. The last time he had seen Ivan he'd been dressed like the merc he was:  cheap, rough clothes; good leather armor; sword and half a dozen daggers; hair unkempt; always smelling of sweat and horse, except when he smelled of sweat and sex.

The Ivan before him was dressed in clothes as costly as his own, his jacket a deep, smoky gray that made his hard eyes almost pretty. His hair had grown out slightly and was a little disheveled, but far tidier than Ailill had ever seen it.

"Vanya?" he finally asked, realizing he was staring like a nitwit.

Ivan laughed. "I was starting to think you did not recognize me."