Chapter Nine

The night trickled by with the Prince sweating through his clothes, although his breathing grew easier, and his muscles eased. He was still pale as dawn approached, and the blue tinge had faded from his lips hours ago. Remus figured he'd live, although he wouldn't be up and about today.

Someone would eventually come, and he settled on the couch with frequent checks on the Prince. When the door opened, he was up with the dagger in his hand, just in case, and a servant entered with a tray for morning tea and a furrowed brow. She paused, took in the sight of Remus with the dagger, screamed, dropped the tray before he could say anything, and ran.

"Elira save us!" she shrieked from the hallway.

Remus hurried to the door and avoided the puddle of water from the shattered pot. "Get the Regent, guards, and the physician."

The woman looked over her shoulder and didn't stop running. Remus set the dagger on the table in front of the couch and went to the bedroom to kneel by the bed. It was best to act subservient now like he only thought of his owner's desires and safety.

It wasn't long before several guards pounded in, and one got him in a hold from behind. The Prince appeared lifeless at first glance, so he could imagine what they were thinking.

"Someone poisoned him," Remus said as he was hauled into the sitting room. He caught sight of the Prince shifting on his bed, but he only rolled over.

"Prince Sébastien?" asked one.

Remus was forced to his knees in the sitting room, and his hands were tied. Three guards stood over him. The physician rushed in with a cloak thrown over his baggy nightshirt and sleep pants that were torn at the hem. The Regent soon ran in.

"What happened?" he yelled.

"I don't know-" said the physician.

"Don't touch me!" came the slurred voice of Sébastien, and Remus didn't catch what else the Regent said. "Fuck you, b-bastard."

Corentin stormed out and looked at one of the guards making sure Remus stayed put. "Why is the slave in here?"

"Er, I don't know, Your Majesty."

"What did you do to my nephew?" Corentin's voice wasn't much louder than normal, but the anger boiled under the surface.

"I saved his life-" started Remus.

"Your Majesty," a guard said from the bedroom.

"Be quiet," snapped Corentin.

"Someone poisoned him last night," Remus said in a rush. "I came in-"

"Someone?"

The insinuation that Remus did it grated on his nerves. Where the fuck would he even get poison? "It was in his wine, and if you don't believe me, ask him what he remembers. I'm sure he'll remember his muscles locking up and puking a little on the floor. Whatever it was, it damn near paralyzed him so he couldn't get out, and no guards were by his door or mine. If he called out, nobody would have heard him, and it would have been impossible for him to get out and find help."

The Regent opened his mouth slightly and widened his eyes as he glanced around at the guards. "What does he mean there were no guards? None of you were on duty here last night?"

The men all shook their heads no.

"Nobody was here except for the slave and Prince Sébastien when we came in," said the one who had tried to speak to the Regent.

"The servant who brings his tea must have a key to the door," said Remus. "She'll tell you it was locked. I couldn't get out to fetch anyone so I made him vomit with tunfira extract to get the poison out."

Corentin paused again as the situation seemed to truly pierce his brain. Remus couldn't be blamed because he had no power to make the guards vanish for a night, and how would he get any substances?

Corentin took a breath and straightened up. "Someone find out who was supposed to be on shift last night, and be silent about it. Not one word about what you saw, and that goes for all of you. You." He pointed at another. "No one is to leave the grounds for any reason until I say otherwise." He turned to Remus as two guards hastily left. "How did you know this?"

Remus mentioned how he'd gotten up to walk and noticed the lack of security. He left out looking for an escape route and said he'd had a bad feeling, so he'd dared to enter the sitting room and found Sébastien. Discovering that he'd clearly been poisoned, Remus had made him vomit, and that seemed to have worked since he was still alive.

"I shouted through the door and off the loggia," said Remus. "Nobody heard me, and someone made sure no guards were nearby. He was meant to pass long before dawn. I don't know who but check among your men. I think I have an idea."

"Out with it," snapped the Regent.

Remus glanced at the men holding him. He had no idea if Commander Martin was working that morning or who could be trusted to keep their mouth shut. "Perhaps accusations shouldn't be made out loud."

The Regent pursed his lips and waved at the men. "Get out."

The guards didn't argue and trooped out. The physician said he needed to get a few things, and he'd be back. The Prince seemed like he would live, but he wasn't in good shape.

The Regent waited until they were gone before he marched closer. "Who? You better not be wasting my time with outrageous tales while my nephew lays nearly dead."

Remus explained about Commander Martin and why he seemed to be a likely suspect.

Corentin rubbed his chin and didn't quite appear to believe it was the Commander. "I have noticed he's easily annoyed at times, but that means little, and he has a demanding job. He's been loyal for years, and he served my brother."

"Everyone is loyal until they're not," said Remus.

Corentin stepped back and frowned. "Once the physician is sure that Sébastien is stable, I want you to speak to him and tell him the exact symptoms and everything that happened. He needs to know what was used in case Sébastien requires further medicine or if something happens, and he declines again." His frown didn't ease as he peered down. "It seems there are no hard feelings since you cared for him."

While the Regent was controlled in his demeanor, Remus was sure the hate ran through him too. It wasn't like his nephew's, but it surely pleased him beyond measure that the enemy Crown Prince had been stripped of his power and given to Sébastien.

Corentin had lost family too.

"We both apologized, and I'm not angry over what happened," Remus said neutrally. Leery of the Prince? Fuck yes. He wouldn't be forgetting that incident any time soon.

"Good. My nephew can see about rewarding you when he's better. Did you stay up all night?"

"Yes, Your Majesty. I couldn't sleep with him so ill."

"I'm sure you won't mind staying up a little more to speak to the physician. Keep quiet about who may have done this. You can sleep afterward."

***

Remus sat in the physician's office. A chain from his cuff was attached to the leg of his chair to discourage him from trying to run off. Despite staying with the Prince all night, it seemed trust only stretched so far.

The physician had finally introduced himself as Maxime while he tossed leafy herbs and seeds into a metal pot. All kinds of things that Remus couldn't name hung from the ceiling beams to dry and give the room a herby smell. Cabinets with glass doors lined the room. Bottles of various liquids, small boxes, and bundles of herbs sat inside. A neatly made bed took up one corner.

Maxime hung the pot over the fire to stew and came to sit at the work table in front of Remus. He pulled out a little book, flipped to a blank page, and told Remus to describe the symptoms.

For some reason, all of the Prince's wine bottles and bathing items had been brought in by a guard and placed on the table. Once Maxime finished making notes and set down his never-fill quill, he pulled over the only open wine bottle.

"Whoever poisoned him obviously went for the open bottle since it would be easy, but they found two ways to poison him," said Maxime.

"Two?"

"Yes. Effects vary based on what you can get, and not everything is easy to procure. His eyes were dilated when he woke up, so a little was still in his system, but he'll live. I'm thinking it was purple wratwort, although it could have been something else. A few poisons have that effect and cause labored breathing. Considering how much he sweated and the faint odor, I think it was…Do you know what gorvin mold is?"

"Yes, it affects crops and kills them. It rarely ever grows in Rowland. It makes you ill if you eat it, right? By throwing up?" The crops turned to mush after a bit, and they certainly weren't serving anything like that at the Palace. He'd never seen it, but he'd heard it was a dark grey color.

"In recent years, as far as I know, it was discovered that if you collect quite a bit of it by scraping it off affected plants, you can simmer it for a day in milk. Afterward, you strain it, put it on bread, and place it in a dark, damp area. Mold grows on the bread and mixes with the gorvin. You take the new gorvin black mold and grind it down into a fine powder."

"And that does what?"

"It can be absorbed through the skin or by breathing," said Maxime, and Remus glanced at the bath oils, soaps, and a few jars. "A few baths or inhalations won't really do much at first. Repeated exposure for several weeks will result in the person growing ill and short of breath. Their muscles will grow tighter, and eventually, the heart will stop."

"What if they eat it?"

"That doesn't seem to work as well from what I know, although I'm not entirely sure. I'm certainly not going to test it. Now, when it comes to wine, red wine is more likely to give you a headache than white wine. It's made with the skin and seeds of the grapes, and it has certain compounds in it. I can't tell you what they are exactly, but it's obvious since the color and flavor are different. Once the red wine enters the bloodstream of a person with the gorvin black mold, it reacts and paralyzes them. Or nearly so. The stiffening of his limbs and joints was a sign."

"And his labored breathing," added Remus.

"Exactly. Prince Sébastien prefers red wine, and that's not a secret."

Maxime opened one of the jars, and Remus leaned back at the sight of the black inside. "Is that gorvin black mold?"

"I'm sure it's mixed in here. Steam really makes it lift." Maxime squinted at the gritty contents, capped the jar, and read the label on the front. "This is black sand scrub from South Forest, and it's scented with black rose petals. That's quite nice. Pricey too. You'd never be able to separate the mold if it's in here, which I'm sure it is."

Dear Elira, what a clever way to hide it. Sébastien had likely used the scrub over every inch of his body without a second thought.

"What if they drink a glass of white wine?" asked Remus. "What if they have two or three?"

"It doesn't react the same with one or two glasses. I'm not sure about a bottle or more. One or two doesn't have enough of something that's in red, so when it enters the bloodstream, it's not the same."

He had a bath oil made from black rose petals and a cake of soap too. Sébastien must have had a bath and added the oil. With the steam in the room, he'd been breathing it in. Besides washing with the scrub, he'd likely sat in the hot water for a bit, unknowingly giving the spores more time to enter his lungs and soak into his skin.

Afterward, he'd had a nice glass of wine to relax while he read his book. It entered his blood, reacted with the mold, and paralyzed him. He'd realized something was wrong, tried to get up, and collapsed on the floor. Whatever had been in the wine had made him throw up a little.

Except that didn't entirely make sense.

"I believe you about the mold, but it's not adding up," said Remus.

"Why not?"

"He was wearing day clothes minus his coat when I found him," said Remus. "Why would he bathe and get dressed like that again? I doubt he had any plans that late."

Maxime squinted. "So?"

"I think he had a bath before dinner and didn't feel the need to have another right then."

"The mold doesn't leave your system that quickly, and it can build up," said Maxime.

"Oh."

"If he bathed hours earlier, it wouldn't have mattered. We had white wine at dinner, and that's why nothing happened. It was a good, dry one. I don't always eat with the court, but the servants simply give me whatever everyone else is having. It was white."

"Is Sébastien a heavy drinker?"

Maxime shook his head and looked at the bottle of bath oil. "I don't think he likes getting drunk in general. The Regent also doesn't like for anyone to get ripped at dinner."

"Understandable." He didn't want to see anyone make an utter fool of themselves. "Do they ever have red?"

"Sometimes."

"What did they drink the night before last?"

"White wine."

Remus thought for a moment. "Whoever did this knew what they'd be having, otherwise, it wouldn't be safe to use such a risky poison. If he used his tainted product and red was served, he would've ended up on the floor in the Hall. Everyone would have known he'd been poisoned, and you would have been immediately brought to help him."

Maxime pursed his lips as he thought that over. "We don't know when his stuff was poisoned."

It had been the day before yesterday, although Remus wasn't going to mention Commander Martin. He wasn't permitted to just yet.

"They obviously visited the Prince at some point," said Remus. "All they would have had to do was ask to use his privy room while speaking to him. Alone with these things, they could have done it then. If Sébastien used it, the person would have been alone long enough to poison the wine. They got lucky, and if they hadn't been able to poison both things, they could have come back later. Someone who's viewed as trusted could say they were told to wait in his rooms too. That would have given them time. Or a servant could have done it while pretending to clean."

"Make sure you tell the Regent this. When Sébastien's up, he can say who's been to see him, and the guards can be asked." Maxime frowned again. "His guards were gone last night."

Clearly, the poisoner wanted to make sure that Sébastien wasn't able to call for help or leave his rooms to find it. What if the Prince hadn't drunk a glass of red wine the night before? Unless there hadn't been any guards the night Commander Martin came. Remus had slept easier then, so he wouldn't have known.

But wouldn't the ones for the morning shift have said something?

"Listen," said Maxime. "I need to tell you something else. The chances of this happening again aren't very likely, but if Prince Sébastien or anyone ever suffers from this, and you by chance happen to be there, you can help. Making him throw up the poisoned wine helped a lot so the wratwort couldn't kill him, and the rest of the wine was out. When it's in your system, the alcohol doesn't all enter at once. It's a process. If too much alcohol from that one glass of wine had seeped into him already, he might have still died since the gorvin black mold would start to paralyze the lungs and organs."

"Is that why his lips were slightly blue? A lack of air?"

"Yes. A way to help the body get rid of it is to bring them into a hot, steamy room if possible. The body will try to sweat it out. You keep them hydrated, and that helps pass it out faster if you can't make them puke up the wine."

"I'll remember that," said Remus.

"I need something, and you can come with me." Maxime stood and bent over to unlock the chain. "Loop it over your arm or something."

"Er, I don't think the guards will be happy with you letting me loose."

"We're not going out the way we came in, and they won't know." Maxime handed him the end of the chain and pointed at another door to one side. Remus had assumed it led to his private quarters. "A little walk and something different to look at would probably be good for you even if it's only for a few minutes. If anyone finds out and complains, you were following my orders. Nobody's going to mess with me. I'm sure you won't run or do anything stupid."

"No."

Remus couldn't pretend he didn't want a change of scenery. He followed Maxime out, down a plain hall, and up a narrow, spiral staircase. A hatch led to a small attic space.

"This is for storage, and I needed a little more window space. Nobody comes up here, and I doubt anyone would care." The physician headed for the wide, slanted windows that allowed sunlight to pour in. On the sills, several pots held plants in various colors, and the physician removed a small knife from his pocket to cut stems from one.

Crates and boxes took up quite a bit of space, and in one corner, what looked like paintings were leaned against the wall with cloth covering them.

"Forgotten art?" asked Remus.

Maxime tucked his trimmings in his pockets. "Yes. Here, have some mint." He plucked a few leaves from a different pot, and Remus accepted a few to chew on. "Do you want to see? I think it's a shame when someone creates something beautiful only for it to end up in a dusty attic."

"If nobody minds, I suppose."

Maxime pulled out one and removed the cloth. "Sébastien had some of these in his rooms before. He had them all put away."

The Royal Family stared back at Remus who almost stopped chewing. Jean, Margot, Corentin, Enzo, Remere, and Sébastien. Sébastien appeared quite young. Even then, he'd been the sort of boy that people would describe as beautiful. The difference came through even more since his clothes were colorful like the rest of the family. His hair was chin-length, the silver eyes weren't cold, and he had an air of youthful innocence about him.

It was clear where he'd gotten his hair from. Margot had the same white hair with the silvery tint, and she'd given it to Enzo too. Remere took a bit more after his Father with his golden locks. The boys were seated on a silken couch with gilt arms, and their parents and Uncle stood behind them. It was a classic pose.

"How old is he there?" asked Remus, trying to judge everyone's age. "Eleven. Twelve?"

"No, he'd turned fourteen a month prior when this was finished."

"Really? He looks younger."

"Prince Sébastien was always a bit small," said Maxime. "Puberty comes late for some, you know? He caught up later. I'm not showing you this as a jab, and I don't blame you for the actions of others or his family's death. I know he does, and…he wasn't always like…what you see now."

"He is this way now," Remus said quietly. "Nobody is entirely like they were before. Even murderous outlaws were once young and innocent."

"Yes, but…he's not a bad man."

Maxime also hadn't been on the business end of his anger. Or enslaved.

"I've tried helping him, but he's rather stubborn," added Maxime.

"Helping him?"

Maxime leaned the painting against the wall. "He's quite angry as I'm sure you've noticed. It grew worse when he was fifteen. I guess the grief had time to turn into something else. We were living at the old Palace in Arquous since this one wasn't finished yet."

"Hm."

Maxime sighed. "He used to be such a nice, bright boy. He loved his books, and he'd started writing one of his own before the werewolf incident. I don't know what happened to that. I asked him if he'd ever finished it, and he said he didn't care to. I thought if he worked on it, maybe it would be good for him." He pulled out another one.

Sébastien had certainly looked bright in the first painting. In the second, it was just him and Remere. The happy boy in the first was gone. He seemed to have grown a bit, although he still looked boyish and about thirteen or so. Remus had started having changes earlier, and he still remembered those awkward times and getting used to his body after a couple of growth spurts.

"Jean didn't want any more portraits of himself if his wife couldn't be next to him," said Maxime. "He got that for his boys. This one-" Maxime brought it out and let the cloth fall. "This was before they went to Finkin and asked for an alliance."

All of that anger and grief had hardened under the surface. Sébastien, between Corentin and Remere, appeared a bit more like the man he knew today. He'd matured in looks and body while he grew angrier and filled himself with hate.

Now, the twenty-two-year-old result owned the only man left that he could direct his anger toward besides Quintus who was far away.

"I know you hate the man now, but he wasn't always like that." Maxime started replacing the coverings. "He used to be quite sweet and affectionate."

So? Was Remus supposed to give a shit? "The past is gone, and I have to deal with the man he is now."

"He's not all bad in the present. The people like him in general too."

"So? His Father permitted criminals to be enslaved, and the people generally liked him too."

"He's also never owned a slave before you. You're only here because your twin sent you. Otherwise, I'm positive Sébastien wouldn't have one. Also, some think he might abolish it later."

Remus almost scoffed at him. He'd never heard of anything like that, and Sébastien looked down his nose at everyone. That was why he'd never had a slave before.

Not everyone cared to own a slave, and while some didn't care for the act of owning someone that they had to feed and clothe, that didn't mean they were a good person or willing to speak out against it.

"His teen years were quite difficult," said Maxime. "In the future, I think things could change. I know you two are at daggers with each other, but…try to be nice. Try to see things from his point of view. He's been hurt."

Remus could barely keep the contempt from his voice as the family portrait was covered, once more burying the young, gentle Prince. "I lost people too, and I didn't turn into that at all. My Mother died when I was young because a miscarriage took her life. My Father died, Uncle followed, and my twin betrayed me. I also don't care what anyone says or what you heard. I never killed my Uncle."

"I never said you did. Maybe Prince Sébastien had different experiences, and those things affected him differently." Maxime replaced the last painting and faced him.

He must have seen such things as a type of wound that could heal over time. Everything else that Maxime dealt with in general had a cure, but not everything could be made to go away like a wart or a fever. Hate can be a sickness that continues to rot.

Since Maxime had also known the Prince when he was a lot younger, he likely still saw Sébastien as a sweet, affectionate boy. Some older people tended to do that, and Maxime had to be over fifty. It was like they forgot that a young fairy might grow and change into something else that wasn't so pleasant or innocent anymore. Or they weren't willing to accept it and wanted to always see someone as a little boy or girl who'd never do anything wrong.

"Thanks for the change of scenery," Remus said.

Maxime gave him a long look as if he wanted to say something else but couldn't quite bring himself to do it. "You should go back soon before they start wondering."