Undetectable

Content warning: murder, death

I watch with morbid interest as the man dies.  The Queen is watching, too, though I can’t see her right now.  That’s by design, of course.  We must endeavor to keep our experiments a secret and our connection to one another more secret still.

The poison is an overwhelming success this time and works exactly as intended.  The wretched man dies quickly and quietly but with evident discomfort.  He makes no observations of any strange tastes or smells from his food in the moments before he ingests the powder.

The other criminals died more dramatically.  Some knew before taking a bite that their meal was compromised.  It’s taken weeks to perfect this new poison, and almost as many criminal sacrifices as there were days.  I determine that the secret lay in the fine grind of the powder, increasing its surface area to allow for faster dissolving.

My heart squeezes for a moment as I look at the dead man on the cold, unforgiving stone floor of the castle’s deepest prison.  I have, after all, just murdered someone.  I brush the feeling aside, but I know that, in the dark of the night, my guilt will return to haunt me.  No matter that this man had committed unconscionable crimes against children.  No matter that he was already doomed for his actions.  He died at my hands all the same.

And soon, it will be someone else’s turn.  I can hear noises behind the wall, no doubt the Queen returning to her chambers.  She is aware of my success, I am sure.  I must make the necessary arrangements to deliver the poison discreetly.  And soon.

Who the Queen intends to kill, I do not know.  It is safer this way.  Let her keep her secrets.

*

The apothecary’s warning rang clearly in her memory.  The Queen knew she must not come into direct contact with the fine powder.  Her hands shook momentarily, but she took a deep breath and steadied them.  This was the right thing to do.

A quick tip of the vial, and a thin line of the light blue powder streamed out into her husband’s chalice.  She watched the wine inside gently bubble as the powder dissolved, then she picked up the chalice and swirled the wine slowly until the bubbles stilled.  “Undetectable,” the apothecary had promised.  Certainly the experiments with the criminals in the dungeon had been successful.  The last one had been caught off guard by his imminent death.

He had not been like the others who had died screaming, the recognition of a strange taste on their tongue too late.  He swore to the apothecary he had not noticed any strange smells or tastes in the food or drink.  She had watched him through a small hole in the stone, safe and hidden in a secret passageway in the wall, so she knew the apothecary had been telling the truth.  The only concern now was whether to trust the words of the dying man who had nothing to lose.

She dared not taste, but the Queen sniffed at the wine delicately so as not to accidentally inhale any ambient powder.  She smelled nothing except the richness of the red liquid, her husband’s favorite, a vintage from the kingdom he had declared war against.

Her brother’s kingdom, Theborroth.

Her husband the King had not listened to her pleas to reconsider war, so it was time to make a strategic move.  She refused to continue risking the lives of innocents both in her current kingdom and the kingdom of her childhood.

The Queen picked up the chalice and squared her shoulders.  She would be put to death for her actions tonight, she knew, but she would save her brother’s life and kingdom.  She must.

*

Your Queen is especially radiant tonight.  She had been as beautiful as your advisors had promised when you agreed to form the alliance with Theborroth, but you were convinced that beauty would fade as she bore you children and aged as women do.  You’re happy to be wrong, but only for this one thing, and only this one time.

She demurely serves you the Theborrothian red you favor, offering you a smile that holds promise for a delightful evening to follow.  She has accepted your stance, at last, yielding to your kingly wisdom that the war with Theborroth is just and necessary.  They have plentiful land reserves, after all, and shouldn’t you be entitled to some?  Especially some of the vineyards that grow the incredible grapes needed for this vintage.

You take a sip from your chalice, savoring the intensity of the wine’s flavors.  Your Queen drinks deeply from her own goblet.  You think you catch the shadow of some complicated emotion in her face, but you brush this thought away when she raises her eyes to meet yours.  Heavy-lidded with what you assume is desire for her King.

As well it should be.  For you have a gift for her: her brother’s head.  You received the news only an hour ago that he had been killed, and your guard captain proudly showed you the gruesome prize.  His kingdom is now yours, and you smile to yourself as you imagine your Queen’s joy that she will rule over the kingdom that was once her home.

You take another drink.  And another.

Then you stand and reach a hand out to your Queen, your wife, commanding her silently to fulfill her marital duties.

But as you reach out, your knees buckle forward, and you find the floor rushing up to meet you.  The chalice crashes to the floor next to you, wine spilling onto the stone like blood.  You try to gasp for breath, but your lungs refuse to fill with air.

Your Queen stands over you.  You can’t identify her expression, but you think there may be a hint of amusement.  The effort you put into moving your mouth through the seizing pain to speak isn’t enough.  No words come.  Only silence.

Then darkness.

Then nothing.