The Reluctant Queen (The Queens of Renthia #2)(64)

"The cause was in her wine," Mother said. "Or her cake. Or her bread. Or dusted on her pillow. Or poured into a wound."

Hamon sighed. "Clearly this was a mista-"

"She was poisoned, dear Hamon. Very cleverly poisoned."

Hamon felt his knees buckle. He thought of Queen Fara and the nightend berries. His head felt as if it were swimming. His Daleina, poisoned? "Impossible. It's False Death."

"Indeed it is. She has been given a poison that causes False Death. Or more accurately, causes symptoms that mimic it. You have done research into other cases, yes?"

He'd researched many cases-the scientists and healers he'd contacted had sent him reams of research. He hadn't found any examples of cases with no symptoms other than the blackouts. In that, Daleina was unique. He simply hadn't known what it meant. Hamon sank onto a chair. "This would explain why she had no other symptoms, if it wasn't natural. But does such a poison exist? I've never heard of one." And neither had anyone else who had responded to his inquiries. No one had mentioned this as a possibility.

"Frankly, nor have I. But I tested the blood thoroughly. The sickness was introduced from the outside. You can check my work." She nodded to a table that ran along the back. It was filled with glass tubes and stacks of parchment.

Arin hurried over to the table and showed him a dish with a drop of blood. It was under a curved bit of glass. He slid it under the microscope and peered in.

Coming up behind him, Mother said, "I treated that sample with everberry sap. If the cells had the abnormality that causes False Death . . ."

Peering at it, he saw the cells tinged with orange dots. "They would have rejected the sap. Of course." He made a fist, wanting to pound it on the table, but restrained himself so as not to damage any of the equipment. He should have thought to test for this. But why would he have suspected a poison when one like this had never existed? "What else?"

Setting aside her wine, she led him through the various tests and experiments she'd done. It was, he admitted, impressive-she'd done at least a week's work in three days, rerunning all the tests he'd done, plus adding many of her own. Several were so clever that he thought he should take notes.

All of them gave the same clear result: it was the False Death, but it wasn't natural.

"How could this happen?" he asked. New poison or not, there were systems in place to prevent any kind of poison from touching the queen. He'd been especially careful, given Queen Fara. "She has tasters, and I am her healer. Only the most trusted people are allowed in her rooms or near her throne."



       
         
       
        

"My boy, you know there are many ways for a poison to be delivered." She was smiling at Arin as she said it, watching the girl neaten the food display.

Hamon followed her gaze. "Mother, what did you do?"

"Do? I solved your problem."

"I mean to her."

Mother laughed. "You think I would poison my best assistant?"

Arin laughed too, a merry cascade. "Mistress Garnah would never harm me! She's the kindest soul that has ever lived. And so very wise."

Hamon shook his head. There was something not right here, but he had a more important question: "Do you know how to make the antidote?"

"Again, you flatter me. I had no idea you thought so highly of me. I admit this is quite gratifying. I am so pleased I came." She sauntered over to the food table and plucked herself a grape. "The poison dissolved in her system already. I can't separate it out. But . . . if you find an undiluted sample, I should be able to manufacture a cure."

Again, he felt unable to breathe.

"Ah, that look in your eyes! If I do find a cure . . ." She let the sentence dangle and sashayed across the room.

He followed her with his eyes, watching her like a hawk watches a squirrel . . . or perhaps more like a squirrel who has seen a hawk. Mother was no one's prey. "What do you want?"

"Respect. Yours. The country's. I want a position in the palace. Master . . . Healer?"

"You're no healer."

"Master Chemist then?"

"You're too dangerous to be allowed access to the kind of power-"

Arin scowled at him. "Mistress Garnah is not dangerous! She's enlightened and pure! She wants only what's best for you, her son. She loves you and has missed you. She told me. You were to be her apprentice-the one she would pass all her knowledge on to-but instead you ran!" Scooping a slice of cake onto a plate, she held it out to him. "Have a piece. You'll feel better."