«Who did this terrible thing?» the crown prince demanded.
«I don't know», Alyce replied. «I think it was Lady Muriella».
«But, why?» Krispin wanted to know, tears spilling down his cheeks.
«I don't know». Alyce took the cup, now half-filled with egg-whites, and put it into his hands. «Now, drink this — all of it!»
«No. It's slimy. It'll make me puke».
«That's the whole point. Drink it!»
At the same time, Prince Brion gave his shoulder a shake and repeated, «Drink it, Krispin».
The younger boy braced himself and drank, forcing himself to gag down the contents of the cup in three large swallows. When he had finished, Alyce refilled the cup from an ewer the younger servant had brought, added a generous measure of salt and stirred it with a finger, and ordered the boy to drain that, too — and then a second cup. As he labored to finish the second draught, making a face, she pulled an empty basin closer, nodding for Brion to hold it under Krispin's chin.
«Revolting, wasn't it?» Alyce murmured, cupping the back of Krispin's head with her hand. «Believe me, I do understand. Now open your mouth».
Too startled to resist, Krispin obeyed, only to have Alyce poke two fingers down his throat, at the same time pressing his head over the empty basin.
The result was immediate and spectacular. When Krispin had finished retching, Brion dutifully holding the basin and looking scared, one of the kitchen maids brought him a clean towel, another offering one to Alyce.
«Will he be all right, my lady?» the girl asked.
«I think so», Alyce replied numbly. «It doesn't appear that he actually got a dose of the poison, but I couldn't risk not doing everything I know to do. It was in some marchpane, but he said he spat out what he tried».
One of the women was inspecting the contents of the basin while Brion helped Krispin wipe his mouth and Alyce washed her hands in another basin a young kitchen maid had brought.
«Marchpane, y'say?» the woman said, shaking her head. «Well, I don't see no trace of that, my lady. I doubt he'd had anything since this morning».
«For which, God be praised!» Alyce murmured, drying her hands.
Welcome relief flooded through her like a physical wave, and she leaned heavily on the vast kitchen table. But this momentary respite quickly gave way to recollection of less favorable outcomes: images of her sister lying dead in the garden, and the innocent Brigetta stricken in the queen's chamber — and Isan, who had eaten more of the tainted marchpane than any of the others, likewise dead. A sob welled up in her throat, but she mastered it and laid her arms around the shoulders of Krispin and the prince.
«That was well done, gentlemen», she murmured, hugging both of them close. «You were very brave».
«What about Isan?» Brion asked hesitantly. «Is he really?..»
«I'm afraid he is, your Highness», she replied.
«I want to see him!» Krispin said boldly.
«There is nothing you can do for him now», she said. «But your lady mother will be frantic to know that you are safe!»
Chapter 19
«Wrath is cruel, and anger is outrageous, but who is able to stand before envy?»[20]
The prince's mother was, indeed, frantic, but not alone for worry over her son. Watching white-faced and silent as men from the castle guard wrapped the body of the unfortunate Brigetta in a cloak to carry it from the room, the queen jumped to her feet as Alyce came in with Prince Brion and Krispin. In the room beyond, Jessamy was trying to comfort Lady Megory Fitzmartin, the mother of Isan, who was holding her dead son in her arms and keening, rocking him back and forth. Lord Seisyll Arilan stood just inside the door, apparently enlisted to carry the dead boy back to his mother.
Seisyll turned as Alyce entered with the two boys, and the queen tearfully held out her arms to her son. Brion ran to her, burying his face against her waist, starting to cry at last as his mother shed more tears of sheer relief.
Krispin held back at first, then pressed past Seisyll into the room beyond and stared at the dead Isan as his mother silently embraced him. Meanwhile, in the queen's chamber, her other ladies were staring at Alyce, Vera and Zoë among them, their eyes begging her to say that none of this was real. All had been weeping.
«Majesty, I don't think Prince Brion has taken any harm», Alyce managed to murmur, not looking at Vera or Zoë. «Krispin seems fine as well. Is Lady Brigetta…»
The queen bit at her lip and looked away, holding her eldest more tightly. «Dear child, there was nothing we could do. And your sister —?»
Alyce shook her head, lowering her gaze and choking back tears. Beyond the queen, Zoë gave a sob and Vera went even paler than she had been, but dared not show the true extent of her grief.
«Dear God…», the queen murmured.
Alyce drew a deep breath. «What has happened to Lady Muriella?»
«I don't know», the queen said dazedly. «She ran from the room, heading toward the main keep, and I heard guards running in that direction a while later…
«But, do not tarry here, dear Alyce. Go to your sister, by all means. I am so sorry! Oh, that spiteful Muriella! Why did she do it?»
Alyce only shook her head and fled — but not to her sister, who could not be helped in this world, but to see what had become of Muriella.
The castle was in an uproar, with armed and angry soldiers moving everywhere, purpose in their looks and strides. When Alyce could make no immediate sense of what was happening, she caught the sleeve of a passing sergeant who usually had kind words for her.
«Master Crawford, please — can you tell me whether they have found the Lady Muriella?» she asked.
«No time now, m'lady», he grunted, shrugging off her touch and hurrying on. «She's run up the north tower, she has».
He was gone at that, ducking into a turnpike stair to clatter after others also headed upward. Heart pounding, Alyce followed, gathering up her skirts to climb as fast as she could, stubbing her toe on one of the stone steps and nearly sent sprawling.
She heard shouting as she ascended, and a woman shrieking, and — just before she reached the final doorway onto the walkway along the battlement — a renewed chorus of shouted demands by heated male voices, punctuated by a woman's anguished scream that faded and then was cut short by the distant, hollow thump of something striking the ground far below.
«Christ, I didn't think she'd jump!» one of the men was saying, peering over the parapet as Alyce pushed her way among them.
«Well, she has saved herself from hanging or worse», said another, cooler voice.
Steeling herself, Alyce forced herself to peer between two of the merlons studding the crenellated wall, down at the crumpled heap of clothing and broken bones now sprawled in the courtyard below, where a pool of blood was rapidly bleeding outward from Muriella's dark head. Gagging, she turned away, one hand pressed to her lips and eyes screwed tightly closed, grateful for the hands that drew her back from the parapet.
«Lady Alyce, you needn't look at this», someone said, not unkindly.
«She killed my sister, and Lady Brigetta», Alyce managed to whisper, before gathering up her skirts to flee back down the turnpike stair. «And she killed a little boy…»
By the time she got down to the courtyard, a crowd had gathered: soldiers and courtiers and servants and a stranger in priest's robes, who had just finished anointing the body. Seeing him, Alyce pushed her way through the crowd and stood there, numbly staring down at the dead woman, until the priest glanced up at her.
«Child, there is nothing you can do», he said, closing his vial of holy oil.
«And there is nothing you can do, either, Father», she replied in a low voice. «Do you know how many lives she has taken today, besides her own?»