The Royal Trials: Imposter Read online

  Zan's dark brows dropped into a scowl. “That's not okay, Luna. She's spying on you?”

  “Like I said, I'm stuck with her.” I changed the subject to avoid any more probing questions into me and Juliana's relationship. “Now, am I allowed to take this bandage off yet? No one has given me any more of those painkiller potions, so I'm guessing the worst of it should be over.”

  He grunted, then pushed off the doorframe to come and sit beside me. “Yeah, Lee told me I could take it off while I'm here.” Taking my bandage-ball hand, he placed it in his lap and started unravelling the gauze.

  “Huh,” I murmured. “He didn't want to come and do it himself? What if I never see him again? Or Ty for that matter?”

  “Seriously?” Zan barked, pinching my leg just on this side of painfully.

  Rubbing my leg and fighting a grin, I shook my head. “No, but sort of. I kind of thought we were, you know, close? If I had thought one of you might die, I'd probably want to pop by and say, you know, good luck. Or something?”

  “Good luck?” Zan repeated, squinting at me. “What happened to being ‘harder to kill than everyone thinks’?”

  I gave him a small smile. “That's still true. But they don't know it, do they?”

  He huffed like I was being deliberately difficult and focused on unwrapping the bandage. “I didn't tell them about the test,” he finally admitted. “But you're more than 'close,' and you know it. You're all they can talk about this week, which is... worrying.”

  I wrinkled my nose. “How is that worrying?”

  “Well,” he started, discarding the wad of bandages before starting to pick at the sticky pad across my whole palm. “Because despite how Ty looks and acts, he isn't as tough as people think. Deep down he is a romantic, looking for his one true love. If you were to die in these stupid, stupid trials, he'd be heartbroken. And don't even get me started on what a mess Lee would be.”

  His words gave me pause, and I was silent for a moment as he peeled the sticky fabric back from my hand and exposed the tender, pink skin underneath, dotted with black knots of stitching yarn.

  “But... you wouldn't be all that upset?” I whispered, totally unable to stop the words from spilling out of my mouth. Why I had to pick at this scab, I had no idea. Maybe it was the whole life-or-death moment I was stuck in.

  Zan's mouth tightened, but he didn't reply or even look up at me until he'd finished cutting and removing all the little stitches from my almost fully healed palm. When it was all done, he gathered up the little pile of rags and then looked up at me with a carefully neutral expression.

  “I can't afford to be, Luna. There is a lot more going on in these trials than you realize, and not just for the ‘competitors.’” His voice was cold, almost closed off, and it made me want to pry him open with a damn nutcracker.

  But I still had a certain level of dignity, despite the fact that I'd grown up on the streets. So I nodded sharply and said nothing as he left my room and Jules returned with my gown.

  Inside, though, my heart was cracking. Had I been an idiot reading too much into the flirtatious banter with Zan?

  22

  Walking into dinner that night, my whole body was numb. I'd talked a brave game in front of Zan and Jules, but I had nothing to back it up. I possessed no magic of my own, nor did I have any sneaky tricks up my sleeve to wriggle out of certain death. At the end of it all, I still had a choice. It was just a shame that all my available options led to death... all except that slim chance that maybe, just maybe, it might not be me drinking poison at tonight's toast.

  “You again,” I groaned as Prince Thibault pulled out the chair beside me. A smile touched his lips at my less than polite greeting, but he said nothing in response.

  Indeed, no response was needed as Prince Louis took the seat on my other side and Prince Alexander directly opposite, staring at me with the intensity of a hawk with its prey.

  “Gosh, I must have done something right to be graced with your company again,” I murmured and buttered myself a piece of bread. Screw dying on an empty stomach, and the palace cooks made incredible bread.

  “You did,” Prince Louis responded, placing his hand gently over mine, then turning my palm over to inspect the remaining scars. “You saved my life last night, Lady Callaluna. I needed to formally thank you for that.”

  “Oh yeah?” I turned to him with a sarcastic brow raise, which he couldn't see, thanks to my heavy, peacock-feathered mask. “How about thanking me by granting a pardon to leave the Royal Trials?”

  Prince Louis's mouth opened, but only a surprised sound came out. It was Prince Alexander who responded to me.

  “We couldn't, even if we wanted to,” he snapped in an almost angry way. What he had to be angry at me about, I had no idea. Still, I was in no mood for royal prickishness, and that small bit of attitude flared my temper.

  Narrowing my eyes at him from behind my mask, I seethed. “Of course not, Sal and Aana forbid the royal princes of Teich have any say over their own Royal Trials. That would be insanity. Guess that explains why you haven't lifted a finger to help your citizens since the Plague ended. It's not because you're self-involved, coldhearted assholes; it’s just because Daddy won't let you.”

  My caustic, contemptuous manner must have rubbed the oldest prince the wrong way because his fist balled around his napkin, and his jaw clenched hard. I could see a great comeback building, but it would sadly have to go unheard. The king had just stood and was tapping his glass to call the dreaded death toast.

  Offering Prince Alexander a sarcastic smile, I picked up the glass of wine, which had just been placed in front of me, and held it lightly between my fingers. The three white marks on my back that I'd had since birth burned with warning, and my stomach sank to my feet. A spike of intuition at the same time as I touched my glass? Couldn't be a coincidence.

  Hopefully... hopefully, my bravado with Zan earlier had held a kernel of truth and I might still get through it. If I only took the smallest of sips, then the magic could be appeased but I could ingest minimal poison.

  King Titus prattled off his usual meaningless speech, then raised his glass with a sick smile on his face. This was it.

  My birthmark continued to burn its warning as I lifted the glass to my lips with a shaking hand. Could I really go through with it?

  My gaze was totally glued to my wine; everyone around me faded away into nothingness as my tunnel vision filled with nothing but golden, bubbling liquid. Was this how all the other girls had felt? Surely I could just... not drink?

  Testing the theory, I paused my glass an inch from my lips. Instantly, it became like my hand was no longer my own, being forced closer and closer to my mouth as though attached to a puppeteer’s strings. Before I could even gasp at the uncomfortable sensation, the glass was against my lips and tipping up.

  Thankfully, the second the wine touched my tongue, the horrific feeling of possession left my hand, and I slammed my glass back down on the table in disgust.

  All three princes and several of the ladies seated near us stared at me in confusion, like it was really such a shocking thing that someone might be impolite at a time like this. Or, I guess, I assumed it was confusion. The masks really did make it hard to read facial expressions at the best of times, let alone when one was anticipating convulsing and dying in a matter of moments.

  “Are you okay, Lady Callaluna?” Prince Louis asked in a quiet voice, touching his gloved fingers lightly to my forearm.

  Was I? How long did the poison usually take to do its damage?

  My silent question was quickly answered—but not in the way I'd expected. Further down the table, a woman with dirty blond hair and a magenta satin gown collapsed out of her seat in a clatter of dishes and cutlery before convulsing on the floor.

  The sight of another lady—instead of me—suffering the effects of red-tide had me speechless. I'd been so sure it was my turn. I'd failed Zan's history test, and all my senses had been going haywire like they were war
ning me not to drink the wine.

  Unless... unless it really was just superstitious coincidence that my birthmark tingled when bad things were about to happen. I'd always denied that it was magic, but I had believed there was something to it. Some sort of inbuilt danger radar or something.

  Maybe not.

  All the air gushed from my body, and I sagged in my seat as the waiters lifted the half-dead girl and carried her out of the dining hall.

  “Yeah,” I whispered, answering Prince Louis's question. “Yeah, I'm fine.”

  Reaching for my untainted glass with trembling fingers, I raised it back to my lips and took a proper sip this time. If ever there was a time for alcohol, this was it. My birthmark continued to burn, but this time I just shifted and scratched at it through my dress.

  “I take it you thought it might be you tonight?” Prince Thibault murmured, keeping his voice low but sadly not low enough not to be heard by the lady opposite him, who snorted a laugh.

  “I'm shocked it wasn't,” she commented in such a callous way that it actually gave me pause. Who was this chick, anyway? And what the fuck had I done to her?

  Prince Thibault cleared his throat and gave the woman a small smile. “Why do you say that, Lady Felicia?”

  Felicia, that was her name. It rang absolutely no bells in my head though.

  “Because there was no way she passed the test today. Not only did she miss the entire morning class, she fell asleep no less than three times during the test. If the tutor hadn't kept waking her up, she would have turned in a blank booklet.” Lady Felicia sniffed in my direction, like she'd actually been hoping that's what I would do.

  “What a bitch,” I exclaimed, then quickly realized I'd said it aloud and not inside my head like I'd really intended it to be. Whoops.

  Prince Thibault covered his mouth to cough, but I was at least seventy percent sure he was trying not to laugh. Thankfully, we were spared any more uncomfortable conversation about my scholarly failures as the ladies sitting to the other sides of the princes all excitedly engaged them in conversation.

  Apparently as the week had progressed, the sight of a competitor dying at the dinner table had become less and less of an event, and each woman was making the most of her opportunity to make an impression on the royal morons.

  Not that I was complaining. After the stress of thinking I was tonight's sacrificial lamb, I just needed a damn break. I'd return to my plan of endearing myself to them... tomorrow. Tonight, I just wanted to get through the meal and get the hell out of there.

  It was roughly halfway through the main course that I noticed something was wrong. Something was really wrong. Pausing, I carefully placed my cutlery back on my plate and dabbed at my mouth with my heavy linen napkin. Glancing down at the starched, white fabric, I saw my fears confirmed.

  Blood stained the whiteness, and I could taste more pooling within my mouth. Combined with the feeling that my stomach was slowly disintegrating and the heavy ache in my limbs... it was pretty obvious what was going on.

  I was fucked.

  “Excuse me, Your Highnesses,” I whispered, just loud enough to be heard but trying to keep my mouth shut. If I wanted to make it to Lee before I died, I needed to not alert anyone to the fact that I, too, had been poisoned. “I'm afraid I am feeling a bit faint,” I told them, folding my napkin to place it on the table. “Must be lady business. May I be excused? I would so hate to stain these lovely chairs.”

  It was the most stupid, upper class problem I could think of, but I was confident it would have the same effect on men of all classes. The only difference being, in the Pond we just got on and dealt with it. Here, though, it wouldn't be considered all that unusual for a lady to act like she had an incurable disease at that time of the month.

  “Of course,” Prince Thibault replied, placing a huge hand under my wrist and helping me out of my seat. Honestly, at any other time I would shy away from such a gesture, but in that moment it was a blessing. My knees were so weak I wasn't totally sure I could have stood up on my own. “I hope you will be feeling better by morning, Lady Callaluna.”

  I offered him a tight smile but didn't bother forcing any more words out. As it was, I could taste so much blood in my mouth that my teeth would no doubt be coated if I tried to speak. Instead I just bobbed a quick curtsey—thank you, Zan—and hurried out of the dining hall before anyone could stop me.

  Once I’d reached the corridor and made it out of sight of the guards, who stood on either side of the dining room door, I collapsed against the wall and spat out the mouthful of crimson, metallic fluid.

  Staring down at it staining the gray slate tiles, I shuddered violently. This was so damn bad.

  Just get to Lee. If anyone can help you, it's Lee.

  Over and over in my head I repeated this lifeline as I staggered through the palace. My best bet was to check the sanctuary; that seemed to be where the three of them hung out whenever they weren't teaching.

  Please, Aana. Please let Lee be in the sanctuary.

  Tears streamed down my face as I gritted my teeth against the pain, but logically I knew I couldn't keep ignoring it much longer. My whole body was engulfed in flames from the inside, and I now knew how tame the red-tide skin-contact poison was in comparison to this distilled, ingested version. It was the same unmistakable burning pain, but a thousand times worse. If I had wanted to die then, this time it was a foregone conclusion. I would die from this if Lee had nothing to help me. It was only a question of how long I'd suffer first.

  “Lee?” I croaked out, and I collapsed against the front door of the sanctuary and used my weight to push it open. There were no candles lit, that I could see, and no one responded to my pathetic cries for help. Still... I had no other ideas of where to find him, so I continued inside further.

  Empty. Not a person in sight, and certainly no flirtatious, sunshine-haired gardener.

  I was well and truly screwed.

  Unable to fight through the pain enough to think of another idea, I dropped onto the velvet chaise couch beside the plant full of ophelia blooms and closed my eyes. If this was how it all ended, at least I could die with the sweet, nostalgic scent of those beautiful flowers surrounding me.

  Time passed; I had no idea how much. Minutes or hours? It felt like eons as my body shook and convulsed through waves upon waves of agony while the red-tide ate through all my vital organs. But it was raised voices that brought me back to the present.

  Cracking my lead-like eyelids open, I tried to look around. Everything was still and silent. Had I imagined it?

  But no, there it was again, two men arguing somewhere nearby, but not inside the sanctuary.

  Squinting, I tried to work out where the sound was coming from as the voices grew louder and clearer. I was in the glass-paneled former sunroom, so it was possible that one of the windows was open and the arguing men were outside.

  “You promised me two eliminations tonight, Taipanus,” the first man snapped, and my eyes widened further at the familiar voice. King Titus? “What in Zryn's name happened? I gave you free rein with your little poison bottle; how bloody hard is it?”

  “Sire,” the slippery spymaster replied. “I did have two glasses poisoned. Both of the girls that failed today's history test were to be given them.”

  “Oh? Well the mouthy blonde still looked pretty damn alive when she walked herself out of the dining hall tonight. How do you explain that, Taipanus?” The king sounded like a serious piece of work, and if I'd had even half my usual strength, I would have been sorely tempted to march out there and confront him, royalty or not.

  “Your servers must have messed up somehow”—Taipanus sniffed— “because my poison is infallible. No one can survive its touch.”

  “Yes, well. We have bigger issues to deal with, and I'm growing concerned that we left these infernal trials until too late. What is the news from the border towns?” The two of them moved somewhat, and suddenly I could make them out through one of the windows. I assume
d they’d chosen this location to speak because of what Lee had told me when he first brought me to the sanctuary—people thought it was haunted, so everyone steered clear. What better place to discuss confidential information?

  Taipanus shifted, looking uncomfortable in a way that I hadn't realized the Snake was capable of. “News is not good, sire. We have been restricting the flow of information to the people, but some things slip through. So far, all the common folk know is that people have been disappearing from towns. They think that it's an act of war, that one of our neighboring kingdoms is plotting an attack and thinning our lines of defense.”

  King Titus grunted and scratched his beard. “So, no one knows what is really happening?”

  “No, sire.” Taipanus shook his head. “Only a select few know that the people haven't been disappearing, they've been changing. Such information would cause widespread hysteria that we can't afford.”

  “Agreed.” King Titus sighed heavily. “Tell your men to do their best to eradicate these creatures. Burn entire towns to the ground if that's what it takes. We need to get through these trials. By the end, either we will have killed the little princess, or we will have her completely under our control.” He paused, and if I could have spoken, I would have been yelling obscenities and exclamations. “How is that potion going, by the way?”

  Taipanus stroked his moustache like some sort of fictional villain. “Ah yes, it's coming along beautifully. Are you still quite certain you wish to make your son a vacant shell, too? We could just use it on his wife after the coronation and use her as our puppet.”

  “I'm sure,” King Titus snapped. “I didn't go to all the effort of stealing this throne only to let my foolish, bleeding-heart children reap the benefits.”

  Taipanus laughed then, a horrid, hacking noise that made me want to plug my ears. “As you wish, my king.”

  They moved away from the window then, and the rest of their conversation was lost to me. Not that I could have listened any longer if I'd tried. The sticky, warm trickle of liquid down my neck combined with the sudden absence of noise suggested my ears were now bleeding too.