The Lady Knight

"Ah, mashed potatoes. My absolute favourite."

The Duke smiled uneasily, rubbing his hands in exaggerated anticipation. "Your Royal Highness, do you not agree that no one makes better mashed potatoes than my wife?"

The Prince nodded tightly, but said nothing. The tension in the air was so thick that even the Duke's attempt at making small talk had little effect on the atmosphere. The Duchess of Louvre continued to fix her fierce gaze on the already uncomfortable Evoric, and Lisa had fixed hers on her mother.

In all, I had never been to a more discomfiting dinner.

I closed my hand over Lisa's for a brief moment. "Lisa," I murmured, "glaring at your mother will not solve anything. Did I not promise you earlier that I will help you? Calm down, please."

"But how?" Lisa hissed, "look at her. Nothing will change her mind. What are you planning?"

Unbeknown to her, I was planning to approach the Prince after dinner. In my opinion and from my experience, Monriquans were generally happier and in a better mood after eating a full meal.

At least, I knew I was.

However, I had to take great care to prevent Lisa from discovering my plans. If she knew, I was certain that she would stop me from seeking his help.

She was as prideful as I was, if not more.

"Never mind what I am planning," I whispered in return, "until then, try to remain calm. The atmosphere is making everyone uncomfortable."

She huffed under her breath, nodding, but her eyes were full of curiosity. In the meanwhile, I looked around to check if anyone had heard our little conversation. However, everyone was submerged in their own thoughts, in an attempt to fight off the heavy air pressing down on their shoulders.

Good. I doubted anyone had eavesdropped.

As I dipped my spoon once more into my bowl of mashed potatoes, I was interrupted when I sensed a small, sudden movement near the kitchens from the corner of my eye.

I paused, looking over to find a pair of dark, narrowed eyes focused on the dining table, darting about in impatience, almost in wait for something. I raised my eyebrow, staring straight at the man peeking out from the kitchen.

Strange. I had not seen him around the kitchen when I was helping the Duchess this evening.

I observed him quietly, certain that he was not aware of me watching him. He was wearing a crumpled tunic, his hair was in a mess and he seemed as if he had not shaved for months. There was something almost sinister about the way the ends of his lips were twitching as he observed the dining table.

My forehead creased. Who was he?

"Jules, my darling," the Duchess's concerned voice brought me out my thoughts, "do you not like the mashed potatoes?"

I blinked, my vision focusing on her, as I quickly masked my expression. "Nay, Your Grace," I assured her, "in fact, it is excellent. I was merely lost in my thoughts - "

"Aren't we all?" Lisa muttered under her breath, and I nudged her under the table.

" - and I apologise," I finished, offering the Duchess my most angelic smile that I knew every mother was powerless against.

The Duchess's expression softened. "That is quite all right, dear," she answered fondly, "I am so glad you like it. I reckon that you are merely tired after helping me in the Manor all day - "

Before she could finish, a loud groan cut her off.

It was not merely any groan. Indeed, it was filled with such agony and torture that would cause even the strongest of men to cover his ears and hide under the nearest table with his head between his knees.

I turned around, startled. What was going on?

The Prince had jumped up, making his chair topple over, and had wrapped his arms tightly around his abdomen, curling into himself. Everyone else gasped in horror, standing up slowly, unsure of what to do, as his groans continued on and on like a banshee's.

Then, just as suddenly as he had begun to scream, he fell silent. Before relief could truly make its presence known in the room, his grey irises rolled upwards, and he began to froth around the mouth.

My eyes widened in horror. It could not be -

Once more, from the corner of my eye, I saw the sinister man in the kitchen smirk in satisfaction as he turned away into the shadows. My suspicions were confirmed. It did not require a genius to put the pieces together.

That devil must have done something to the Prince's dinner.

I leapt up onto the table, and slipped on someone's mashed potato bowl. Precariously balanced on the bowl, I began to skid at breakneck speed across the table, towards the other end where the Prince was doubling over.

When I reached there, I flipped a somersault in the air, and landed firmly on my two feet on the ground. Without wasting a breath, I grabbed the bowl I had skidded on, and hurled it with all my might across the room. It hit the sinister man in the kitchens exactly on the head, knocking him down unconscious there and then before he could run away.

I then turned around to catch the Prince before he could fall.

Damn, he was heavy.

Kneeling down, I slowly eased him onto my lap, ice cold fear seeping through my veins. He continued to writhe in my arms, still frothing, still letting out soft groans of agony.

I winced, very much disturbed by his pain. I would never wish this even on my worst enemy.

"Hush, Your Royal Highness," I smoothed a trembling hand over his forehead, "it will be all right."

His glassy eyes met mine for a fleeting second, before they closed with a shuddering finality.

***

Lord Evoric of Warwick

Waiting.

I could not help but nurture a sudden wave of hatred for that word. It had the nature of someone who gave up too easily, a person who was forever helpless. Indeed, it did not deserve a place in the English vocabulary.

Not. At. All.

I was pacing incessantly up and down the corridor, certain I had worn out the expensive looking carpet long ago. It had been so long, and yet there was no sign that all would be well any time soon.

My fists clenched. I hated being so close to desperation. I hated not knowing what was going on behind those mahogany doors.

I was most certain that this must be the work of someone from Vantauge. That damned country and Monrique had been at war since the beginning of time, each wanting to conquer the other. Our history pages were splattered with blood, and the number of lives lost for such a useless cause could well tend to infinity.

For the past several years, Monrique and Vantauge had been observing an uneasy truce due to heavy pressure from Osterlund. However, no one knew what Vantauge could be planning during this farce of a truce.

Judging by the similar expression on Ned's face, as his tired blue eyes met mine across the corridor, I realised that his thoughts were along the same lines as my own.

A gentle hand touched my shoulder at that moment and squeezed it in support, startling me. I paused, turning around to stare straight into a pair of glassy emerald eyes, which were swimming with tears.

"He will be all right, Evoric," she whispered, "trust Jules."

I nodded. Our trust in Jules was the only thing that had kept Ned and me from barging into Nick's bedchamber hours ago.

Despite being aware that the Louvrian Duchess was watching me with her hawk like gaze from across the corridor, I took Lisa's hand that was on my shoulder in my own and squeezed it, full of fear for the future.

No words were needed. She understood. She always did.

At that moment, the doors flung open. Everyone snapped out of their thoughts at once and rushed towards the door. Jules was sagging against the doorframe on the threshold, dishevelled and exhausted.

"It has been done."

***

Lord Evoric of Warwick (ten hours ago)

Jules cradled Nick in her arms, her small, heart-shaped face white and pinched with despair. Even though he had already lost consciousness, he continued to writhe violently, foaming around the mouth.

He had clearly been poisoned. We all knew it, yet, no one moved a muscle.

We watched her silently, not knowing what to do. Ned clutched onto the oak dining table hard until his knuckles were white, while Dora and Jo had their hankies stuffed in their mouths in a failing attempt not to burst out crying. The Duke and Duchess of Louvre simply stared at the scene in front of them, shocked into silence.

Even the kitchen staff had rushed out to watch Nick die.

Why was anyone not doing anything?

I opened my mouth to speak, when Jules began to stand up unsteadily, carrying Nick bridal-style, and threw him over her tiny shoulders with a mighty lift. She struggled under his weight, her legs wobbling badly, but her eyes held a stony determination I dared not question.

The Captains blinked out of their stupor and rushed forward to offer to carry the thrashing Nick for her, but she held up her free arm.

"Nay," she panted, "Captains Everard and Percival, you will go to the kitchens. There will be an unconscious man in dirty rags. Drag him to the cellar and wake him. Ask him what poison he used to make the Prince's food and inform me as quickly as possible. And until I command otherwise, keep him locked at all times, under supervision."

They stared at her, uncomprehending, as did we all. How in the world had she known who the poisoner was?

"What are you looking at?" Jules snapped, her voice cracking, "how am I to make an antidote when I do not even know what he has been poisoned with? Go! Do as I say and meet me soon in the Prince's bedchamber! There is no time to waste!"

Nodding tersely, they sprinted away at once towards the kitchens, and almost the next moment, we could hear someone being dragged across the stone floor none too gently.

Jules then looked at Lord and Lady Louvre.

"Your Graces, please secure the Manor at once. No one is allowed to leave or enter the Manor until I say so."

They nodded, tensed, and hurried off towards the front gates.

"Lisa, Dora, Jo, and the rest of you kitchen staff," her grip on Nick tightened, as he continued to thrash on her shoulder like a dying fish, "I need some clean white linen, a pot of ice-cold water and all the herbs you can find in the Manor. Bring it up to the Prince's bedchamber, all right?"

"Aye, Ma'am. Anything for His Royal Highness," one of the cooks vowed solemnly, as the rest of his team and Lisa, Dora and Jo nodded together in agreement, showing solidarity.

"Thank you," she whispered.

"Good luck, Jules. Do what you have to do, and so will we," Dora murmured to her, before raising her voice, "let us go!" They hurried off towards the kitchen and I could vaguely hear Dora barking orders at the kitchen staff.

Jules looked at us, tiring fast. "Ned, Evoric, please come with me," she winced, dragging her feet towards the stairs, "I need your help in the Prince's bedchamber."

"Are you certain you can carry him up the stairs?" Ned frowned, concerned.

"We can help you," I offered.

"Thank you, but I can do it," she gritted her teeth, "please, just come with me." With that, she began her labour up the four flights of stairs to Nick's bedchamber.

We followed her, beyond worried for our friend.

She kicked his bedchamber door open, and struggled towards his king-sized bed, placing him gently under the covers. She then turned to us, panting, very red in the face with the exertion.

"Hold him down, please," she gestured to him, "with all that thrashing, he may fall off the bed and injure himself."

Ned stepped forward to hold Nick's legs still, while I kept an iron grip on his shoulders, using my handkerchief to wipe the froth dribbling down his neck from his mouth.

Meanwhile, Jules had opened the windows to let in some fresh air and lit some candles. She then hurried back to Nick's side and felt his forehead.

"He is burning up swiftly," she murmured, "if I only knew the name of the poison - rue it all!" She punched the headboard hard, frustrated with herself, before she stood up and began pacing about, wringing her hands.

I knew how she felt. Helplessness could drive any man or woman insane.

At that very moment, Nick stopped thrashing and stilled with frightening abruptness under my hands. I glanced up at Ned, shocked, and the room became deadly quiet.

Jules stopped her pacing, and looked about wildly. "What happened?"

"Jules," Ned gasped softly, "Jules, he is bleeding!" He pointed a shaky finger to Nick's right ear.

She instantly dashed around the bed to the right side, as I craned my neck to get a closer look. A single, crimson streak trickled down the side of his neck, with no sign of stopping its flow any time soon.

Jules' eyes widened in horror and realisation. "Oh, Lord – "

Before I could ask her what was happening, the bedchamber doors flew open, and Captains Everard and Percival tumbled in, panting.

"Ma'am, any moment now, the Prince will begin bleeding from his ears," Captain Everard panted, "they used the – "

"Aye, I know. Thank you for informing me. And please go back to guarding the poisoner. I will deal with him in a moment."

There was no doubt as to what she was planning for the poisoner. Her thunderous face said it all.

As the Captains promptly left to do their duty, Jules turned to us. "All right, for the antidote, I am going to need some herbs. Where -" she spoke at lightning speed, but she was cut off.

"We have them here," Jo entered the chamber at that moment, together with Lisa and Dora, and they began to arrange all that they were holding on the bedside table.

Jules looked on in approval. "Thank you. Lisa, please start sponging his forehead with the cold water," she ordered, before she began to murmur to herself, selecting some of the strange looking leaves from the table.

Lisa grabbed the pot of water from Dora and began to do as she was told, worry clear on her face.

"I need three more herbs," Jules spoke up suddenly, "Jo, are you certain there were not any - " she listed some strange sounding herb names I did not know how to pronounce.

"Nay, there are not," Lisa answered instead moodily without looking up, "by God, Jules, we do not run an apothecary here."

Jules scowled with irritation, and it was clear to anyone with eyes that she was about to snap at Lisa there and then. However, I knew Lisa's mood stemmed from her anxiety and stress, rather than any sort of irrational rage with Jules.

Jo hastened to intervene before a quarrel broke out. "Mayhap you can find them in the Louvrian Woods?" she suggested, successfully distracting Jules.

"I might..." she mused, considering, "but the poison would - "

"What is it, Jules?" Ned burst out desperately, speaking for the first time since the Ladies had entered the room, "what is it doing to him?" I was as bewildered as he felt, not knowing in the slightest as to what was wrong with our friend.

Jules looked pained. "It is a most deadly poison," she whispered, "one that will cause his blood to become so viscous that the heart simply cannot pump it around his body anymore. One that will result in his horrible, excruciating death. 'Tis...'tis the very same one that his brother Prince James took to end his life ten years ago."

Ned slammed his back against the wall, horrified, and even I felt sickened. Ten years ago, when we had found James dead in his bedchamber...it was a sight no twelve-year-old child should have to see.

But Nick, Ned, Lucien and I had. To think Nick might end up the same way -

Nay.

"Then what are we still doing here?" I found myself saying, "let us go to the woods."

"He has about two hours before he would start coughing out blood," she winced, "I shall return with the herbs before that happens."

She looked at around at everyone, tensed, before nodding at me. I followed her out, silently praying for Nick to survive this night.

We would do what we had to, and so would the rest in the Manor.

***

Lord Evoric of Warwick (Now)

"How is he, Jules?" Ned was the first to demand, pushing himself to the front.

All of us waited with bated breaths for her answer to the only question on our minds for the last ten hours.

A small, weak smile unfolded upon her lips. "The antidote worked. All is well," she sighed tiredly, before turning to Lady Louvre, "has the physician arrived yet, Your Grace?"

The atmosphere lightened at once, as we all released huge sighs of relief, allowing all the pent-up anxiety of the last few hours to fade away to nothing.

"Thanks be to the Lord," Lady Louvre crossed herself, as did the others, " I had sent for the physician three hours ago. He should reach the Manor soon, if the weather does not worsen." She looked to the window, where it was beginning to snow outside.

Jules nodded, abruptly becoming serious. "Good. Now, I need you all to listen to me very carefully. This is important."

Everyone fell silent at once, waiting. Had she more bad news to give us?

She seemed to be struggling with words. "I am certain...well, what I mean is, it is common knowledge that the Prince and I do not quite get along."

Ned let out a watery chuckle. "That is putting it very mildly, Jules."

"Very true," she smiled sadly, "and although the Prince lives, he is still extremely weak. I am not jesting when I say that even the smallest excitement could cause him to plunge into the condition he had been in before."

"The poison has wreaked havoc on his system. If he were to see me, or discuss anything related to...recent events, he could fly into one of his rages that could very possibly cause his heart to stop beating, and kill him." She refused to meet any of our gazes.

A beat of silence ensued as everyone digested this information. Even Lady Louvre gazed at her with pity.

I was amazed. I had not thought of that old crone as one capable of any human emotions.

"Surely he does not despise you to that extent, Jules?" only Jo dared to console her.

"Truly, he does," Ned answered instead, grieved, "even to this day, he blames her for Lucien's death. And of course, all those times during their childhood...." His eyes drifted out of focus, lost in his memories.

Between the both of them, only Ned had grown up in the years we had spent in Osterlund, and apologised to Jules - through letters, and in person after we returned to Monrique - for everything he and Nick had put her through throughout their childhood.

I could tell he had meant every word of that apology. I had never seen him so guilt-ridden over anything before, so desperate to set things right once more.

Sometimes, I wished Nick possessed at least half the maturity Ned did now. One, small misunderstanding between him and Jules all those years ago had resulted in so many others, up to this day.

Thus, it was no surprise that, even now, Nick had refused to believe otherwise about who was responsible Lucien's murder.

"What?" Lisa burst out, outraged, "how could he hold her responsible for that? The dungeons are highly protected, and it is the best fortress there is. It is not her fault that some devil sent straight from hell found a way to break in and go on a killing spree!" She glanced at Jules, showing her support.

"Thank you, Lisa," Jules smiled in gratitude at her, letting out a huge breath, "nevertheless, I prefer not to be involved in this whole matter altogether. At least, from the Prince's point of view."

"What do you mean?" I queried, confused.

"What I am saying is, if the Prince, or anyone else outside this Manor, were to ask," she treaded carefully, "it will be Dora who came up with the antidote and saved his life. No one will even breathe my name in his presence over the course of the next one week, or talk to him about anything related to Lucien. Is that understood?"

"But Jules," Dora blinked, startled, "this is utterly ridiculous - "

"I will not risk the Prince's life a second time, Dora," she cut her off quietly, her eyes burning, "I will teach you how to make the antidote and administer it. The physician may be of some help with that when he arrives."

"But - "

"Do not bother arguing. My decision is final."

Dora's shoulders slumped, resigned.