My son.How dare she use that term. As if she wasn’t choking the life from him.
“A million thanks,” Rhistel hissed, making his derision plain.
The queen merely shrugged. She had no remorse for what she was doing to him, for making it clear that he, of all her children, was the least loved. The one she was willing to sacrifice.
Their forbidden magic should have bonded them but instead it had torn them apart. Had made the queen distrust her eldest. He saw it even as a youngling, and he never forgot.
No matter.He walked among the plants.Soon, she’ll no longer have power over me.
The room stretched long and housed many plants. Hundreds. Some of them grew tall enough to reach the ceiling, and all that greenery muffled noise. This place was one of the spaces in which his mother had often brought him and Vale to teach Rhistel his magic. Hidden by tall ferns and showy flowers, Rhistel had dived into his brother’s mind again and again and again. But learning whispering magic wasn’t all that happened here. Occasionally, the queen would see fit to teach them about the various plants she’d imported. Neither Vale nor Rhistel cared much, but the heir absorbed knowledge easily.
Many of the plants were medicinal. Six in the room were poisonous to varying degrees. Thebláth aislinge,a flower native to the Autumn Court with distinctive pale-blue pointed petals, was among the most poisonous. If ingested, its pollen would induce a haze and sometimes even full-blown hallucinations—of which Rhistel was familiar for he’d taken the plant recreationally many times.
He located the plant, picked a few flowers from the lush bush, and stuffed them in his pocket, wiping off some of the light blue pollen that dusted the silk of the prince’s Aaberg blue shirt. A quick glance around told him his mother was nowhere in sight, but it wouldn’t do to rush back to where her wine goblet waited. She might suspect something.
So he continued to meander through the solarium, and stopped to gaze out upon the city and the Shivering Sea. In the distance, Virtoris Island jutted out of the water. Rhistel scowled. That family would soon pay for the disrespect they’d shown the throne.
Even if King Magnus’s blood did not flow through his veins, Rhistel still considered him a father. The king had raised him. Had tutored him.
Lord Riis? He’d interacted with Rhistel at court, and given him a few gifts over the turns, but they had never bonded. He was no father, blood or not.
Somewhere in the solarium, his mother began to hum and the soft sounds of scissors cutting and falling leaves indicated the moment was right. Moving as quickly as he dared, he returned to the settee, and after affirming that his mother was still deep in the vegetation, Rhistel pulled out the flowers. He filled his own goblet again but tossed the contents of his mother’s into a nearby pot. Then, he tapped the pollen into the carafe of wine.
Blue dust floated down into the liquid. He didn’t need much pollen, but to be safe, he tainted the wine with more than he’d ever used. Once done, he swirled the decanter, mixing the pollen in well, and poured his mother a fresh glass.
Then, he sat back and waited.
Many minutes passed before the queen strolled out of the sea of green, a soft smile on her lips that vanished when she saw him.
“How was your walk?” she asked.
“Fine. The water looks calm today.” He didn’t care for the plants, but that he watched the sea was believable. The heir had always liked the water.
“It has been for days,” she agreed and, as he’d hoped, lifted her goblet to her lips.
The queen drank. One sip. Two. Three. Apparently, pruning plants proved strenuous work, for when she set the goblet down again, half the wine was gone.
“It’s time to return to your room while I bathe,” his mother said.
He rose. The pollen didn’t take long to work, and he would recognize when it did because his power diminished when he took the pollen. Hence, his mother’s hold over him would too.
They made it to the door when her control faltered. Not enough for him to break free, but enough to feel. The time was growing close. The Clawsguards fell into step behind them, and they continued on, mother and son spending an inordinate amount of time together lately.
Down one corridor they went, and turned into another, and his mother stumbled. She grabbed onto the wall, catching herself, while he tested the boundaries around his mind. Flexible.Breakable.Victory swelled inside him and no longer able to wait, he struck.
She gasped, sensing his escape, and whirled upon him, but the intoxicating pollen had taken hold, and her eyes had glazed over.
Before the guards took notice, Rhistel slipped off one of his ice spider silk gloves and took his mother by the hand. Skin touched skin and his magic, free after so many days, sank into her. Immediately it arrested his mother’s power, which felt weaker. Drugged, just like the queen herself.
“You’re out of sorts, Mother,” Rhistel said, deceptive care in his voice as his magic delved deeper, harder into her, twisting her own powers into a cage of his making. He had her. “Perhaps a long rest is in store?”
She blinked heavily. “Yes. I think so.” Her tone had taken on that flat quality he’d heard and hated in his own. It might have taken him much longer than he wished, but his practice and planning had paid off. He’d bested his mother.
Do not leave your suite until I say that you can,he commanded.
Rhistel turned to the Clawsguards. “See the queen to her rooms.”
“Of course, Your Highness,” the more senior guard replied. “Would you like one of us to escort you to yours?”
