Page 30 of Poisoned Kingdom (Secrets of Dagome #1)

‘Riordan, does that mean I can see the king?’ I asked.

My hope rose at seeing the mage, but it didn’t last.

‘His Majesty is busy with other things,’ he replied, making me sigh.

‘Then please do me a favour. Tell him that keeping me under lock and key isn’t benefiting anyone.

I’m calm and compliant, but that will change if he insists on playing games,’ I said, pointing to Ciesko’s sigil still glowing on my forearm.

‘If he wants answers, he can ask me now—or the next time he sends someone, they’ll find an empty room. ’

Riordan sighed heavily, shaking his head.

‘My hair will turn grey dealing with you two. Fine, I’ll ask him, but you can’t go dressed like that. Reynard would have my head if I paraded you around wearing only a nightgown like some second-class virgin.’

The remark cracked my carefully crafted facade. ‘What the crud is a second-class virgin?’ I asked before looking around. ‘And what can I wear? My clothes have vanished.’ I frowned, noticing that not only had my kirtle disappeared, but my boots were gone too.

‘I’m surprised you’ve never heard of . .

. Well, I doubt women in the Brotherhood ever need to see a healer to ask to be returned to .

. . their natural state,’ he said, and my mouth dropped open.

I didn’t even notice when he clapped his hands and the door opened again, revealing a maid with a handful of fabric. ‘Come in and help the lady.’

‘Someone would ask for that?’

Riordan sniggered. ‘Many, especially after a failed engagement. Get dressed, Roksana. If you’re lucky, I’ll come and get you in an hour.’

I nodded, suddenly tired despite having woken up late, unsure what would happen if, despite the interrogation, Reynard still wouldn’t let me go.

Interrogation by truthseeker was always a tricky business.

As much as I wanted to tell him the truth about Jagon’s affairs and our encounter in the forest, there were Brotherhood secrets no one should be privy to.

How would he react if I refused to answer?

My sudden stillness must have caught the psychic mage’s attention because he sighed again. ‘Do not be afraid, Roksana. I can’t believe I’m saying this, but I’m on your side. The king’s not a monster, whatever you may think of him.’

I felt a sarcastic comment straining to escape, but I didn’t want to antagonise my one ally, at least for now.

‘He might not be a monster, but he is a stubborn and infuriately arrogant oaf who doesn’t listen to reason. Now, could you please leave so I can dress?’ I asked, kicking myself as I watched the maid set out some clothes.

Riordan fought valiantly to keep a straight face at my characterisation of the king before both men left the room. I didn’t miss Ciesko whispering in his ear while gesturing in my direction. Whatever the revelation was, Riordan paused, glancing at me strangely as the door closed.

A short while later, a beautiful royal blue gown was artfully draped over my body in the softest of embraces.

Unfortunately, as pretty as it was, the dress was too tight across my chest, even if it swept nicely over the curve of my hips, accentuating my waist. It was clear the gown was made for someone less encumbered than I, and it didn’t help that age had added a little extra padding to my body.

Every time I took a deep breath, the laces holding the velvet bodice together creaked, stretching the fabric at the seams.

I looked at the maid who was biting her lips to restrain her laughter.

‘I’m sorry, my lady,’ she said. ‘It was the king’s choice, and he wasn’t in the mood to discuss sizes.’

I blinked, looking at her. ‘The king . . . picked the dress?’

If I’d thought nothing could surprise me, I was wrong. The image of that muscled giant inspecting frilly dresses and picking one out for me was my undoing. I bent over, laughing so hard that the dress creaked even more, sending me into a complete meltdown.

It was official. I was going insane.

Riordan must have thought the same when he entered the room, frowning as I tried to breathe, tears streaming down my face.

‘Roksana? He’ll see you . . . What’s going on?’

‘The king picked the dress . . . and it creaks,’ I explained, gasping for breath.

The mage frowned, but as I spread my arms, reproducing the sound, his lips twitched as he controlled his laughter.

‘That’s not all. Look at this.’ Out of pure mischief, I took a deep breath. The bodice groaned before a pinging snap announced the top eyelet holding it together had broken under the strain, revealing much more of my cleavage. ‘Oof. There, I can breathe now.’

‘I can’t . . . So that’s why he visited the chancellor’s daughter earlier,’ Riordan muttered, desperately trying to keep his composure. Only the maid looked distraught.

‘My lady, please stop, we don’t have anything else for you . . .’

‘Fine . . . fine, let’s go,’ I said, gesturing to Riordan. ‘Lead the way, Mage, and just so you know, I won’t be curtsying.’

‘I wouldn’t expect it. Not after that display,’ he answered, giving me his arm. ‘I wish we’d met earlier, Roksana. You are truly interesting—and more entertaining than I’d ever have thought,’ he said carelessly. I realised Riordan and I were similar in age, even if he acted more mature than I did.

‘I live to serve. Poisons, laughter . . . I’m a singing, dancing, year-round peasant’s fair,’ I said with a polite bow, and this time, his laughter filled the corridor.

The mage led us through endless halls, and I sighed in relief when we passed the doors to the dungeon and the grand throne room before heading to a much smaller audience chamber. Before we entered, Riordan stopped.

‘A word of warning,’ he cautioned. ‘Despite what you did to him, Rey rose above it, and instead of revenge, he wants to understand. A lesser man would’ve killed you, but he has more compassion than I, so don’t waste this chance and make him regret trusting you.’

I pulled away from him, his words catching me off guard. It was more than a warning; it was advice.

The guards before us opened the doors, and I stepped forward.

‘Thank you, but I assure you I never wanted to hurt the king,’ I said with a tense smile, adding for good measure, ‘And that won’t change.’

I raised my head high and strode confidently into the room, leaving him to catch up with me.

Riordan’s words burned because they were true. A lesser man would have killed me, though Reynard—confusing and arrogant as he was—hadn’t truly hurt me. In the grand scheme of things, fingerprint bruises and a night spent on cold stones were nothing compared to what I did to him.

I’m trying to atone. I hope you can see that, my broody king , I thought, approaching the figure on the throne as he sat there with a stone-cold expression.

Except I no longer believed in his coldness, even if I didn’t understand him.

The man who had held me by the window hadn’t feel cold in the least as he’d pressed his body to mine. Now, I wanted to know what else was hidden within the heart of the king who appeared as lonely as the stars in the night sky.

1. Striga — a female demon born of a violent death who hunts those who have wronged her; appears as a skinny female with two rows of teeth, large claws, and leather-like hair.

2. Geas (s.)/geasa (pl.) — a form of magical compulsion, curse, or obligation. Those under a geas are required to follow certain conditions or orders, risking death for disobedience.