Page 43 of Poisoned Kingdom (Secrets of Dagome #1)

Roksana

B razen and arrogant, my announcement drew out a horde of servants. Now, whatever Jagon had planned, he couldn’t deny my presence.

Everything in the Chapter House was just as I remembered.

Fae lights still flickered along the hall, casting their glow over walls lined with weapons and trophies.

The same worn carpet is stretched out beneath my feet, unable to muffle the groaning floorboards that had always betrayed late-night footsteps.

The building hadn’t changed. But I had.

Its grandeur no longer awed me. I felt no urge to prove myself to those within its walls.

And yet, I couldn’t deny my sentimental feelings.

My ever-evolving relationship with Irsha, the uneasy camaraderie with fellow apprentices, the thrill of uncovering forgotten knowledge in the archives—each pulled at me.

Even the day I bought out my contract held bittersweet memories for me.

Now, I’d returned, determined and armed with a magic I didn’t understand, eager to confront the demons of my past.

I walked past the guards lured in by the commotion, donning the persona of the grand master’s shadow. My features settled into cold control, eyes like chips of ice, lips curved in a sneer that reeked of power and indifference.

When I finally stood before the doors to the dining hall, it was like I’d never left, and I began wondering which Sana was the real me. I nodded to the servants, and with a respectful bow, they opened the doors, revealing the arguing, so-called leaders of the Brotherhood.

‘How can you say you have everything under control when you can’t even bring one woman to heel?

She broke the rules by returning to Truso.

The invitation was an afterthought because, as always, you’re trying to protect her.

And what did the wench do? Where did she go?

Straight to the king. My men have seen her staying in the royal quarters,’ Bolko, the Observers’ chapter master, yelled across the table while Boyan daintily dabbed his lips with a pristine linen napkin, his shoulders shaking as he held back a coughing fit.

They’re so busy jumping down each other’s throats, they haven’t even noticed I’m here, I reflected, amused by the situation, but I hadn’t come here to watch these ridiculous men tear each other apart.

‘So that’s where the king placed me. I must admit, it was surprisingly pleasant,’ I said, causing the entire room to fall silent.

No one in the large dining chamber moved, everyone focused solely on me.

Relief, amusement, but mostly anger flashed across the faces of the men and women gathered at the side tables, but my eyes were on the five imposing figures sitting at the elevated table.

Smirking, I approached them with slow, measured steps as heads swivelled to follow my progress.

‘I see nothing’s changed in my absence. You still can’t have a meal without arguing like children,’ I taunted, avoiding Jagon’s stare, his narrowed eyes exposing his fury as his hand tightened on the table until his knuckles turned white.

‘Roksana, you made it.’ The relief in the grand master’s tone was evident, and my throat constricted.

He looked so frail, older and paler than I remembered.

There was resignation in his gaze, the look of an alpha wolf who’d lost control of his pack, surrounded by younger, hungrier wolves waiting for a chance to tear out his throat.

He should have stepped down long ago. But I suspected he’d held on, clinging to power not out of pride, but in hopes of finding a successor the warring chapters would accept.

I envied the old man’s resolve. I only wished he’d found that successor before it had come to this.

I didn’t blame him, though. Most of the people seated at the table—barring a few notable exceptions—were either clueless, cruel, or eager to destroy everything he’d tried to build.

‘Of course, my lord,’ I said, voice smooth. ‘It pains me that any here would doubt my word. I would walk on hot coals to dine at your table.’

I bowed deeply, showing my respect. When I looked up, he was smiling. A wet, rattling cough stained his teeth with blood, but the warmth in his expression was so genuine that I did something I’d never done before.

I dropped to my knees.

‘I beg your forgiveness for my tardiness. The bodies of my former brethren in the street will attest to the effort I exerted in presenting myself.’

Gasps of surprise and the clatter of cutlery followed my show of submission. If anyone still questioned where my allegiance lay, they had their answer now.

‘Welcome home, my beautiful Nightshade. You’ve been missed. Now, stand up, child, and please join me.’

I smiled at the grand master, rising gracefully, and used the moment to sneak a glance at Jagon.

The poison master was staring at me like a hawk, likely with the same lethal intent as one.

His expression was a mixture of anger and reluctant respect, as if he’d only now realised I was no longer his pawn.

From the angry chatter surrounding me, it was clear he had Bolko’s support, and I’d be surprised if Tymon, the Mules’ leader, wasn’t in Jagon’s pocket as well.

So, rather than escalate the situation, I simply gave my former master a respectful nod.

Jagon’s brow furrowed, probably calculating the variables and wondering whether I was going to hang him out to dry in front of the entire Brotherhood, but it was too early to confront him. Instead, I stepped towards the grand master.

‘Of course, my lord. If you’d like, we could even partake in a relaxing game of chess later. I learned so much playing with you, and I admit I would love to see if I can finally challenge you.’

‘Chess?’ Bolko interjected. ‘Who gave you the right to speak in our presence, Nightshade? You left the Brotherhood. You even left Dagome. You know the rules, and yet you walk into the Chapter House like you fucking own it. Why are you even here?’

I smirked. ‘I could say it’s none of your business, but if you must know, I met the king during his travels, and his mage discovered something so interesting he requested that I return to Truso.

I asked for an invitation, of course, not that the likes of you are entitled to know the grand master’s and arch healer’s private affairs.

But since I’m here, well . . .’ I shrugged.

‘I’m thinking of staying.’ I grinned, enjoying the sight of his thinning lips and gritted teeth before I hammered the nail into the proverbial coffin.

‘Especially since the arch healer wants to train me himself, but I guess your spies already told you I can use magic.’

Boyan’s head whipped in my direction, joy filling his eyes as if he’d . . . expected this?

‘Roksana, is that true? Was that the reason you left?’ he asked, leaning forward before he sighed, shaking his head. ‘You should have come to me instead of leaving.’

‘I’m sorry, but it’s been a turbulent time for me.

However, the arch healer was so impressed by my healing of Wiosna’s miners that he offered to train me under his patronage,’ I said, pasting on a bright smile as I lied through my teeth.

‘Ask Jagon. He helped dissolve any obligation I had towards King M?ot and the Kingdom of Wiosna.’

As expected, Bolko frowned at the mention of Jagon’s name, glaring at him with distrust written all over his face.

Boyan, on the other hand, sat taller, his shoulders broadening from their usual hunch.

Seeing the glee on the old man’s face, and his less-than-covert glances at Jagon, he definitely knew it was rubbish.

‘You’re going to betray us to become a mage?’ someone shouted.

‘Betray?’ I repeated, a smirk curling my lip.

‘I’m no longer a dark sister; my scroll was burned to ash.

I came only to pay my respects to the grand master.

However, seeing as some of you have forgotten the Brotherhood’s honour, bickering at the high table like quarrelsome fishwives .

. .’ I paused, savouring the moment. ‘Perhaps I shall renew my contract, this time as a mage, to teach you some manners, you witless cur.’

‘You fucking bitch,’ came from behind me, the sharp, metallic ring of a sword being drawn cutting through the sudden silence. ‘Do you think you can just march back in and we'll take you in?’

‘Silence!’ I snapped, spinning around as I whipped my hand forward.

A small, poisoned needle flew from my fingers, sinking into the shouting man’s throat.

He swallowed hard, mouth opening wide as he gasped for breath before dropping to his knees.

‘Did you forget who I am? Consider that a polite reminder. As for the rest of you—does anyone else have a problem with my return?’

The entire room froze, watching while I strolled to my assailant.

My smile was cruel as I crouched down to look into the helpless man’s eyes, hiding my emotions.

I waited until his face turned purple, eyes tearing from the lack of air as he flopped on the floor like a dying fish.

Then, I plucked out the needle, allowing him to breathe again.

‘I hate fools. Who does this one belong to?’ I asked coolly, gripping the man’s chin between my fingers.

Irsha rose slowly to his feet. ‘He’s mine,’ he said, approaching with measured grace. ‘Apologies for his lack of discipline. He’s hot-headed, but skilled. I’d rather not lose a good sword over a bad decision.’

‘Since you asked so nicely,’ I said, a slow smile curving my lips as he reached for my hand and pressed a kiss to it. Irsha was playing his part perfectly—my long-lost lover and loyal kindred soul, ever willing to stand beside me even if it cost his man his life.