The Thorn
Chapter Six
Before Elyon can catch herself, someone else does it for her.
Power settles around her, comfortable and familiar, and her descent slows. Her trajectory changes, too, and instead of falling away from the castle, she slowly glides down into the gardens. The sudden calm dies quickly, though, when she sees that it's her brother who has caught her.
He stands a short distance away, a pair of shears on the ground by him and a mess of flower and roots in one hand. He seems to have been caught off guard, which is surreal enough to do the same to Elyon. He regroups quickly, though, and asks, "What just happened, sister? Were you attacked?"
Elyon suspects that he's more bothered by the damage to her window than any danger she might have been in, but she can't seem to make her mouth obey her. "It…I…" She can't tell him what really happened, but she doubts lying will do her any good, either. "Um, it's…"
Phobos steps closer and peers at her. "You look ill."
For some reason her face turns hot, and she glares at him. Fake concern isn't going to work with her; it hasn't for years. Phobos just smirks in reply. "It's…private," she hedges.
"So private that you can think of no excuse for hurtling out of your room in the middle of the night and nearly falling to your death?"
Elyon bites her lip. "Sort of. You have to admit, you didn't exactly give me much time to think of an excuse."
And she really, really wishes that she did have some sort of excuse. During her years of imprisonment as a rose, Elyon had gotten him to open up a little about their family, but not by much- she can still count on her fingers the number of times he'd been willing to discuss it. Hearing that their mother's spirit visited will surely do nothing good for Phobos' mood.
"My patience is not infinite, sister," Phobos warns.
Elyon bites her lip again, but this time it's to keep from giggling nervously or saying something stupid about how he's never patient. She supposes that isn't strictly true, anyway. Phobos can certainly be impatient at times, but he didn't rule a world set against him and seduce her into believing his lies recklessly, that's for certain.
And she didn't seduce him and get him to lower his guard enough for her to steal back the Heart of Meridian by being impatient, either.
God, does her mother really know?
Surely the only people who know are Elyon and Phobos...and their new enemy. And while there's no guarantee that she'll keep the secret, what reason would she have to tell the ghost of their mother? If that spirit was actually their mother. It could have just been a trick to mess with her- in fact, that's a lot more likely.
Elyon bites her lip. "Phobos...have you ever seen a ghost?"
Rather than laughing the question off, the way most people on Earth would, Phobos considers the question seriously. "No. It is very rare for a spirit to remain behind after death. If not, we'd certainly be drowning in them."
Is he referring to his own murderous habits, or just the number of people who pass away in general? Probably best not to ask. "But how rare is it? It is possible, then?"
"Possible, but highly unlikely. In all my years I've never met one. Even the darkest of sorcerers know better than to meddle with the dead."
"Oh."
"Why the sudden interest, sister? Were you hoping to dabble in necromancy?" Phobos mocks.
"I thought I saw something... But it must have just been an illusion."
Phobos watches her inscrutably. "And what it showed you was enough to cause you to jump from your own window?"
"I fell," Elyon huffs. "I would have caught myself if you didn't."
"You're welcome, by the way."
Blushing, Elyon looks away from him. He really never misses an opportunity to rub her Earth upbringing in her face, does he? He seems to think they're all barbarians with no manners or something.
"But do tell. You've piqued my curiosity- what did you see that was so terrible?" Phobos seems amused now. What, does he expect it to be something stupid?
For a moment Elyon is tempted to tell him and spread the torment around, but no, that's a terrible idea. Based on the way he's reacted every other time that their mother's come up, it would probably send him into a rage and leave him ignoring her for a week at least.
"None of your business."
"I believe everything that goes on in this palace is my business, sister."
God, would he shut up? "It made me think that someone had found out about what happened..." Elyon pauses. "In the throne room."
Phobos has nothing to say to that.
His eyes follow her as she walks to the nearest doorway into the palace, but he's silent. Good.
The halls of the palace are never exactly joyful, not with Phobos as their monarch, but they're downright oppressive at night. With their new enemy still capable of entering, Elyon can't help but peer around every corridor before taking a turn. She should have just flown back up to her room, but she's afraid to. What if that apparition is still there? What if...
What if it's not an illusion?
Ugh, that's stupid. Phobos just told her all about how rare ghosts are. He's spent his life when he isn't ruling Meridian with an iron fist studying dark magic- if he's never seen one, what are the chances? And if their mother's ghost has been hanging around all this time, why wouldn't she have been haunting him?
Still, her hand hesitates at her door.
It creaks open. Elyon peers in, ready to slam it shut again... Nothing. Just a dishevelled bed, sheets askew, open balcony windows, and shattered glass on the floor. If it weren't for that, it would be like nothing had ever happened.
Sighing, Elyon waves her hand, and the glass fits back into the window panes, good as new. Probably a waste of energy to magic it fixed, but she does not want to spend the night in here with broken windows.
She closes the door as slowly as she opened it, still half-waiting for something to happen. But her room is empty and silent.
Even though it's still hours till morning, there's no way she can get back to sleep now. Her brother's library isn't exactly great for fiction (does Meridian even have a printing press yet?), but she does have some magic texts sitting around on her desk. None of them are pleasant bedtime reading, but...
"What the heck. No way any of them can be scarier than my life."
"Princess Elyon..."
"Princess Elyon, please wake up."
"Mmm..."
Tentatively, Nagadir reaches out a hand and places it lightly on her shoulder. She jostles the princess lightly, probably not enough- but what else is she supposed to do?
"Ng?" An eye cracks open. "Issat you, Nagadir?" The princess peers up at her with bleary eyes, and her voice comes out scratchy. "What time is it?"
"It's nearly noon, your highness."
"Oh. I...I didn't sleep well."
Princess Elyon's head had been resting in sleep not against a pillow but a book, the crease of parchment leaving a corresponding mark against her cheek. "I can see that, your highness. Are you feeling ill?"
"Um...my throat's kind of sore," the princess says hesitantly, her hand coming to rest against it.
"I'm sorry to hear that. Should I call a doctor for you?"
The princess smiles sheepishly. "It's not that bad- just a scratchy throat. And it's all my fault- I was up late, took a walk in the gardens in the middle of the night... I probably just got a bit of a chill, right? But..." The princess hesitates. "Could I maybe have some tea and biscuits? That's what I always had when I wasn't feeling well back on Earth."
"Of course, your highness. I'll be back shortly."
Nagadir leaves the room, shutting the door quietly as the princess waves at her lightly. It's a good thing she still has some energy- hopefully it's nothing too serious, then. The hallway outside is empty, so rather than calling for someone, it's probably better to just go down to the kitchens herself. And her mother always swears by a fresh cassa fruit when she's starting to feel ill...
She makes it through the hallways easily. To think that when she'd first been called to be the princess's maid, she'd been so afraid... But despite the terrible stories that are whispered about the palace, Nagadir's job has been easy so far. The princess isn't demanding at all, insisting that she can handle all sorts of tasks by herself- even ones that Nagadir, back at home, would certainly have left to her own maid.
The terrible thorns that once reached down from the castle to twine about the buildings in the town below have receded. Princess Elyon has lightened up the palace, and Nagadir can't help but think she's been a good influence.
In the kitchens, everyone is upset at hearing that the princess is feeling unwell. Trill, in particular, clucks as she brews the tea. "Poor girl, she really needs to take better care of herself."
"Here we are," she says, handing the tea tray over with a smile. "Please tell Princess Elyon that we're all thinking of her."
"She'll be glad to hear it."
And Princess Elyon will, Nagadir thinks as she hurries back up to her room. The princess doesn't have an ounce of snobbishness in her and is willing to start a conversation with just about anyone she passes by. It's a far cry from some of the nobles who won't even glance your way if you can't trace your lineage back to a noble house from at least two centuries ago. Nagadir, whose family was only titled half a century ago, is beneath the notice of many.
"Here we are, Princess..." Nagadir's greeting trails off.
The princess is asleep again, in nearly the same position she woke up in.
Setting the tea tray down on her bedside table, Nagadir pulls the blanket back over her and delivers the book back to her desk.
Just as Phobos is sitting down at the table for dinner, there's a knock on the door.
"Enter."
Elyon stands in the doorway, her expression awkward. "Um, hi."
"Sister. I hadn't expected to see you today." Not after their encounter the night before.
"I wasn't feeling great when I woke up this morning, but... Um, can I join you?" she asks, indicating the table.
"You may," he replies, emphasising his use of the word 'may'. Honestly, Earth must have lost all sense of class in the past few decades, for his sister to come from there with these manners.
Rather than sitting across from him at the other head of the table, Elyon takes the seat nearest him. She murmurs a thanks as a servant provides her with a plate and cutlery, and looks about the room nervously as their food is served and the food taster begins on his portion. It's merely a formality, as all of his detection spells have already returned negative.
"I wanted to talk to you about something," Elyon says, glancing at him and then away.
"Whatever could we have to discuss after our conversation the previous evening?" he asks mildly. It was long past evening by that point, but given past...events, it's probably best that no servants hear about them meeting in the dead of the night.
"Well...I wanted to ask you more...about spirits." Rather than looking at him, Elyon is watching the candles flicker, and her hand toys idly with her soup spoon.
"Really, dear sister, I'm beginning to become concerned by your newfound interest in necromancy," Phobos mocks. "Is there a spirit in particular you're hoping to summon from beyond the grave?"
"No! I just...didn't know it was possible. It was surprising." Clearly impatient to begin eating, Elyon begins stirring her soup with her spoon.
"As I already told you, it's incredibly rare. I've heard that the Council of Kandrakar even has a specially devised prison reserved for sorcerers caught tampering with the veil between life and death."
"I read up on it a little, and all the books just talked about the dangers of necromancy. So someone has to summon a spirit, people don't just stick around as ghosts of their own free will?"
"I suppose it's not impossible, and a powerful sorcerer might be capable of tying their spirit to..." A strangled sound comes from the corner of the room, and Elyon, not having heard it, is raising a spoonful of soup to her lips.
Phobos throws out a hand, and the spoon flies from her loose grip. "Don't eat anything."
In the corner the food taster has fallen from his seat. The man convulses on the floor, racked with seizures and gasping for breath.
Elyon jumps from her seat and kneels by the man, wincing but not moving as his thrashing limbs clip her in the shoulder. "Guards!" she calls.
Probably expecting an attack of some sort, a couple of guards rush in from the hall outside. Seeing nothing amiss, they look at their princess dumbly.
"He's having a seizure," Elyon says. "Hold him down so he doesn't hurt himself...and one of you get a doctor."
"Don't bother," Phobos tells her. "Based on the seizing, it's probably strychnine. He'll be dead soon."
Elyon looks horrified. It's almost as if she hasn't recently been given an extensive lesson in detecting poisons. "But we have to do something! Isn't there an antidote, or a spell, or..." There are tears in her eyes. It's almost as if she's never watched someone die before.
"Brother, please..."
Phobos scoffs and rises, striding over to one of the cabinets and retrieving a lacquered box. Pulling out a bottle, he gives it to his sister. "Feed him this."
Doing so, gently supporting the man's head as she tips the contents of the bottle into his mouth and helps him swallow, she asks, "Is it an antidote?"
"There is none for strychnine. But the charcoal will help absorb the poison still in his stomach and perhaps save his life. Guard, do as Princess Elyon says and fetch a doctor. It would be rather an inconvenience to find a replacement for him if he dies."
That settled, Phobos turns back to their dinner table, examining their plates and the platters of food.
"None of your detection spells worked," Elyon says nervously.
"That's what he's for," Phobos replies idly, waving a hand in the direction of the main writhing on the floor. Lifting the plates and then the serving dishes, he hisses. "This isn't silver, it's Talus steel. It's extremely rare on Meridian and blocks the effects of most magic. I wonder where he came by it.
"But this was sloppy. Surely the poisoner knew that he would alert us to its presence."
The man on the floor gasps for breath. "I...wasn't supposed to. But when Princess Elyon appeared...couldn't allow her to be poisoned as well."
Rage builds in Phobos. What incompetent fool managed to miss that his own food taster was a rebel sympathiser?
Elyon had been supporting his head before, but now she inches away. "Why didn't you just tell us it was poisoned, then?!"
"He decided to die rather than risk giving up his co-conspirators during interrogation, isn't that so?"
Elyon looks ill. "Would the mage have access to Talus steel?"
"The sorceress... The rebel leader doesn't favour this sort of tactic, does he?"
"Kitchens are such busy places, it would be easy for an imposter to go unnoticed," Elyon muses. "And she doesn't know yet that she failed."
Elyon rushes out the door without another word, and Phobos follows.