Poison Study (33 page)

  Valek frowned. “It might be too soon. The Criollo could still be in your bloodstream. You’ll inform me if something happens?”

  “Yes.”

  “Good. I’ll see you tonight.”

  Poor Valek, I thought, stuffed into his dress uniform three times in as many days. Elaborate decorations had been hung in the dining room for the feast. Crimson and black drapes hung along the walls, and red and gold streamers twisted and dipped from the ceiling. The room was ablaze with light. An elevated platform had been constructed to support a head table where the southern delegation, the Commander and Valek all wore their finest clothes. High-ranking officers and upper-level advisers were seated at round tables circling the room, leaving the middle empty. In the corner a twelve-piece band played sedate music, which was a surprise since the Commander frowned on music, considering it a waste of time.

  I sat behind Commander Ambrose so he could pass his plate to me. As predicted, the food was marvelous. Rand had outdone himself.

  My dark uniform blended in with the black drapes along the wall, and since I doubted anyone beyond the dais noticed I was there, I watched the others as I waited between courses. Ari and Janco sat next to each other at a table by the door. Attending their first formal function as Captains, they were clearly uncomfortable. Knowing them, I was sure they would rather be drinking beer with their comrades back in the barracks.

  Irys and her retinue were seated to the Commander’s left. Their formal robes had swirls of color and glittered in the firelight. Irys wore a diamond pendant shaped like a flower, which sparkled on her chest. She ignored my presence, which was fine with me.

  After the servants cleared the meal from the tables, they extinguished half of the lanterns. The band quickened their tempo until a pulsating rhythm vibrated the glassware on the tabletops. Costumed dancers burst into the room, holding blazing staffs high above their heads. Fire dancers! They performed an intricate and complex routine. Watching them whirl and spin to the beat left me gasping for breath. I understood now why their festival tent had been so packed with enthusiastic fans.

  At one point, Valek leaned back in his chair and said to me, “I don’t think I would have made it past the audition, Yelena. I probably would have set my hair on fire by this point.”

  “What’s a singed head for the sake of art?” I teased. He laughed. The mood of the room was energetic and elated. I hoped the Commander wouldn’t wait fifteen more years before having another feast.

  The dancers finished their second encore and exited the room. Irys rose to offer a toast. The Sitians had brought their finest cognac. Irys poured a glass for the Commander, Valek and herself. She didn’t seem offended when the Commander’s goblet passed to me.

  I swirled the amber liquid and inhaled the sharp odor. Taking a small sip, I rolled the cognac around my tongue, then spat it onto the floor. Gagging and retching with the effort, I tried to expel every last bit of it from my mouth. Valek stared in alarm.

  I choked out, “My Love.”

  Valek knocked over the other two glasses, spilling their contents on the table. As my body reacted to the poison, I watched Valek turn into a black ink spot, and the walls run with blood.

  I floated on a crimson sea, colors dancing and whirling around my head. The sound of broken glass raining on stones created an odd melody in my mind. I drifted on a raft made of curly white hair, carried along by a strong current. Irys’s soothing voice spoke amidst the tempest of colors, “You’ll be fine, just hold on to your life raft. You can ride out this storm.”

  I awoke in my room. A dim lantern had been lit, and Janco sat in a chair, reading a book. This was much nicer than the last time I had tasted My Love. A soft bed was preferable to lying in a pool of my own vomit. Although this habit of waking in my room without knowing how I got here had to stop.

  “Why, Janco, I didn’t know you could read,” I teased. My voice was hoarse, my throat sore and a dull ache resided deep in my head.

  “I’m a man of many unknown talents.” Janco smiled. “Welcome back.”

  “How long have I been out?”

  “Two days.”

  “What happened?”

  “After you turned into a madwoman?” Janco asked. “Or why you turned into one?”

  I grimaced. “After.”

  “It’s amazing how fast Valek can move,” Janco said with admiration. “He pushed you out of sight onto the floor while corking the tainted bottle and using some sleight of hand to swap it for another. He apologized to everyone about being clumsy, and proceeded to pour three new glasses so that southern witch could make her phony toast. The whole incident was smoothed over so quick that only the people on the dais knew what really happened.”

  Janco scratched at his goatee. “Well, they and Ari. He had his eye on you all night, so when you went down, we were on our way. We slipped behind the head table during the toast and he carried you here. He’d still be here, but I forced him at knifepoint to get some sleep.”

  Ah, that explained my curly-haired raft. I sat up. The ache in my head intensified. A water pitcher rested on my night table. I poured a glass, draining it dry.

  “Valek said you’d be thirsty. He’s been here a couple of times, but he’s been busy with the southerners. I can’t believe that witch had the audacity to try to poison the Commander.”

  “She didn’t. Remember? She poured three glasses from the same bottle. Someone else must have,” I said. But the culprit eluded me as the effort of concentrating made my head pound.

  “Unless she was going for a murder-suicide. A quick death instead of waiting in our dungeon to be hanged.”

  “Possible,” I said, but I thought it unlikely.

  “Valek must agree with you. The treaty discussions are proceeding as if nothing happened.” Janco yawned. “Well, now that you’re coherent again, I’ll get some sleep. It’s another four hours until dawn.” Janco pushed me back down on the bed. “Get some rest. We’ll be back in the morning.”

  He studied me, indecision creasing his face. “Ari said you screamed and raved a lot while he took care of you. In fact, he said that if Reyad was alive today, he’d gut the bastard without a moment’s hesitation. I just thought you might want to know.” Janco gave me a brotherly kiss on the forehead and left.

  Oh great, I groaned. What else did Ari know? How would I be able to face him in the morning? Well, I thought, nothing I could do about it now. I tried to go back to sleep, but my empty stomach kept growling. All I could think of was food. I examined my hunger, trying to deduce if it was a mental command from Irys like Mogkan had done to me before, but I couldn’t come up with a good reason why she would summon me.

  Once I had decided to risk the trip, I strapped on my switchblade and made my way on wobbly legs to the kitchen, where I hoped to sneak in and grab some bread before Rand woke up to start his dough.

  Slicing off a chunk of cheese to eat along with my loaf, I was about to leave, when Rand’s door opened.

  “Yelena,” he said in surprise.

  “Morning, Rand. Just stealing some food.”

  “I haven’t seen you in weeks,” he grumped. “Where’ve you been?” He moved toward the ovens. Opening the first black metal door, he stoked the embers of the fire and added more coal.

  “I’ve been busy. You know. The Generals. The delegation. The feast. Which, by the way, was magnificent, Rand. You’re a genius.”

  He perked up after I appealed to his ego. I resigned myself to the fact that, if I wanted him to think we were still friends, I would have to talk to him. I placed my breakfast on a table and pulled up a stool.

  Rand limped toward me. “Someone said you were sick?”

  “Yeah. Stomach bug. Haven’t eaten in two days, but I’m better now.” I gestured to the bread.

  “Hold off, I’ll make you some sweet cakes.”

  I watched him mix the batter, making sure he didn’t slip in a poisonous ingredient. But after the cakes were under my nose, I dug into them with mindless abandon. The familiar scene of Rand making bread while I sat close by dissolved the awkwardness between us. We were soon chatting and laughing.

  It wasn’t until his questions turned pointed and specific that I realized Rand was pumping me for information about the Commander and Valek. I clenched my fork, stabbing it hard into my sweet cakes.

  “Hear anything about this southern treaty?” Rand asked.

  “No.” My tone was harsh, and he looked at me with curiosity. “Sorry, I’m tired. I better get back to bed.”

  “Before you go, you might as well take these beans along.” Rand pulled down the glass jar. “I’ve sautйed, ground, even boiled them, but they still taste unrecognizably terrible.” He poured them into a bag, and went to check on his baking fires.

  Watching him stir the glowing coals gave me an idea. “Maybe they’re not to eat,” I said. “Maybe they’re a source of fuel.” The southern pods had been delivered to Brazell’s new factory. Perhaps he was using them to heat his ovens.

  “Worth a try,” Rand said.

  I threw the beans into the hearth fire. We waited for a while, but there were no sudden flames or increase in temperature. While Rand switched his bread pans, I stared into the embers, thinking that as far as the mystery of the beans was concerned, I was out of options.

  When Rand started again with his questions, I turned my eyes away from the oven’s fire. Pressure knotted in my throat. “I’d better get going or Valek will be wondering where I am.”

  “Yes, by all means go. I noticed you and Valek have become close. Tell him, for me, not to kill anybody, will you?” Sarcasm rendered Rand’s voice sharp.

  I lost control and slammed the oven door shut. It echoed in the quiet kitchen. “At least Valek has the decency to inform me when he’s poisoning me,” I blurted out, but wished I could pull the words from the air and stuff them back into my mouth. Blaming my fatigue, my anger, or Rand for my outburst wouldn’t erase what I had just said.

  His facial expressions contorted and vacillated from surprise to guilt to anger. “Did Star tell you?” he demanded.

  “Ah…” I was at a loss. If I said yes, he would find out from Star that I was lying, and if I said no, he would insist on knowing my source. Either way, he’d figure it out. I had just revealed Valek’s entire undercover operation.

  Fortunately, Rand didn’t wait for me to answer before launching into a tirade. “I should have known she would tell you. She loves to play nasty head games. When you came along, I didn’t want to know you. All I wanted was the heap of gold credit that Star offered to apply to my debt if I spiked Valek’s test.” Rand pounded the table. “Then my damn morals and your damn niceness complicated things. Selling information about you, then having to protect you without looking like I was protecting you made my life hell.”

  “Sorry for the inconvenience,” I said. “I guess I should be grateful, poisonings and kidnappings aside.” Sarcasm sharpened my voice.

  Rand rubbed his hands over his face. His anger had dissipated. “I’m sorry, Yelena. I was backed into a corner and I couldn’t get out without hurting someone.”

  I softened. “Why did Star want me poisoned?”

  “General Brazell commissioned her. That shouldn’t be a surprise.”

  “No.” I thought for a moment, and then asked, “Rand, is there anyone who can help you get out of this mess? Maybe Valek?”

  “Absolutely not! Why do you have such an elevated opinion of him? He’s a murderer. You should hate him just for giving you Butterfly’s Dust. I would.”

  “Who told you?” I demanded. “Who else knows? I thought only the Commander and Valek knew.”

  “Your predecessor, Oscove, told me why he never tried to run, and no, I haven’t sold that information to anyone. I do have limits.” He tugged at his apron. “Oscove’s hatred of Valek rivaled my own, and I understood that, but your relationship with Valek…” Rand’s furrowed brows spiked up toward his forehead.

  “You’re in love with him,” he cried.

  “That’s preposterous,” I shouted.

  We gaped at each other, too stunned to say anything more.

  Then a sweet, nutty aroma reached my nose. Rand, too, sniffed the air. I followed the scent to the oven where I had tossed the mystery beans into the fire. Opening the door, I was greeted by a strong puff of heavenly scent. Criollo.

Chapter Twenty-Seven

  “W here did you find those beans?” Rand asked. “They’re the missing ingredient to the Criollo recipe. I didn’t think of roasting them to change the flavor.”

  “A storeroom downstairs,” I lied. I wasn’t about to tell him that Valek and I had intercepted them on the way to Brazell’s new factory. Which, I now realized, was probably not producing feed but manufacturing Criollo.

  “Which storeroom?” Rand asked, a hint of desperation in his voice.

  “I don’t remember.”

  “Try harder. If I can duplicate Ving’s recipe for Criollo, then maybe I won’t be transferred.”

  “Transferred? Where?”

  “You mean Valek hasn’t gloated over it by now? He’s wanted to get rid of me since the takeover. I’m being sent to Brazell’s manor house, and Ving will come here. He won’t last a week!” Rand spat the words out with bitter force.