Page 8 of Poisoned Kingdom (Secrets of Dagome #1)

Reynard

W hether it was my lineage or pure, bloody-minded stubbornness, I refused to lie down and die.

My collapse was rapid and painful, but the sting of bruised flesh was nothing compared to the inferno engulfing my face.

I crawled blindly, howling for my squire, until I heard him running, shouting my name in a panicked, breathless voice.

It had to be poison . . . She was poison—a perfect honey trap for an idiot desperate to be a hero. I wasn’t afraid of death, but I was not ready for it. Certainly not one such as this, crawling like a worm in the mud, wishing I could tear the skin off my face to escape the torment.

‘Fuck!’ I roared, shaking my head as the world spun on its axis. ‘You fucking fool, bewitched by a pretty face!’

Nausea shredded my guts, and a sour taste filled my mouth. I heaved as the squire knelt beside me, holding my shoulders. My body shook, sweat pouring from my skin, but I was finally able to take a breath.

‘My liege! What happened?’ he mumbled as he panicked. ‘Are you . . .? We need help . . . The mage! I’ll take you to the mage!’

‘My horse,’ I groaned.

He brought Kary over, and following my gesture, my stallion lay down, letting me crawl onto his back. I realised that my long-dead father’s insistence on training horses to pick up injured warriors was saving my life now.

Life, yes, but not my dignity , I thought humourlessly.

Kary stood up, his movements sending another wave of nausea through my limp body.

‘Tell Riordan it’s poison,’ I wheezed as the squire urged my horse into a steady canter, rushing back to camp as fast as the terrain allowed.

Sharp commands broke through my delirium, but I had barely the strength to raise my head when we suddenly stopped. Calloused hands grabbed my arms, and I slid off my mount, hitting the ground like a sack of turnips.

The faces of my men blurred before my eyes, my mind drifting in and out of the void, when a cold, soothing hand landed on my cheek, poking and prodding the bleeding flesh.

‘Reynard, stay with me,’ Riordan commanded, and coldness spread through the wound before my friend turned to speak to someone.

‘Captain! The situation is dire. We need a healer. Take my signet and send someone on the fastest horse we have to fetch Master Ciesko. Let the arch healer know that his king commands it—and tell him to ride a bloody dragon if he must, but he has to be here no later than tomorrow!’

His words rang with the authority of the royal mage of Dagome, and hope died in my chest. If my wound required the services of a dragon and the arch healer, I was as good as dead.

‘Tell me the truth,’ I groaned, focusing on Riordan’s voice.

‘The truth is you have a choice.’

Ri’s hand trembled while he drew something in front of my face, frost spreading over my cheek, numbing it further.

I could see the toll this magic was having on him.

He was a psychic mage. Healing was so far from his class and domain that attempting the spell was draining him, bleeding his aether, and I hoped he wouldn’t be stupid enough to reach the point where he had to use his life essence to sustain mine.

There was no need for both of us to die.

‘What is it?’ I rasped.

‘The poison is spreading. I’m holding it in place, freezing the tissue, but without an antidote, we .

. . There’s no time. This is beyond me, but I know it’s killing you,’ he stuttered, wiping sweat from his forehead before inhaling sharply.

‘It’s in your eye, a pool of death and tangled aether spreading into your bloodstream.

If I can expel it, you might survive . .

. but it’s your eye, Rey. I don’t know how to do it without blinding you. ’

I couldn’t make sense of Riordan’s words, but I latched onto the words ‘expel,’ ‘eye,’ and ‘blind.’ At this point, I almost didn’t care what happened next, but I trusted Ri with my life.

‘You can do it?’ I gasped. He nodded, and as the gravity of the situation settled in, I made my choice.

‘Then do it! I can’t see through it anyway, but if I die, tell my brother to find out who sent her. She’s a dark sister; I found out too late.’

That was all I could think of in the moment—revenge, and the woman who had brought me to my knees. If she was innocent, why would she have attacked me? It had to be a trap. It had to be . . .

I didn’t care how little sense it made. I needed something to focus on to help me survive, and revenge mixed with hatred was an excellent reason to carry on living.

‘She? Rey, that can wait.’

Riordan gestured to my men, and two of them grabbed my arms firmly. His hands shook as he drew his dagger, and I bit back the command to hold his nerve. When my friend still held back, his eyes wild, I grabbed the blade and thrust it into my eye socket myself.

The world dissolved into agony, but I didn’t stop. I clenched my teeth, cutting through my flesh and praying to Perun for the strength to endure. The thunder god of war and berserkers answered my prayers in a flash of gold and fury, keeping me conscious.

My heart threatened to burst from my ribcage as I worked, blood and sweat flowing endlessly, washing away the poison and what little awareness I had left.

With one last twist of the knife, I screamed my defiance to the heavens and collapsed, barely feeling my body bounce off the hard ground. Whether I lived or died, it was out of my hands now.

‘Gods, you’re the toughest bastard I’ve ever met,’ Riordan muttered, kneeling next to me and pulling my head onto his lap. With another sharp curse, he started chanting, attempting to stem the bleeding. I raised my hand, focusing on my trembling fingers.

‘Send . . . find her . . . dagger . . . squire knows . . .’ I mumbled before the void swallowed me whole.

‘I’ve withdrawn the stasis spell. He’ll awaken soon,’ came a voice from the darkness. My consciousness latched on to those words, along with the thumps and squeaks of a moving wagon.

‘Let’s hope so. Just pray we still have a king when he opens his eyes. The wild magic saved his life, but if the berserker controls him . . .’ answered another voice, more mature and obviously exhausted.

‘It’s Reynard you’re talking about. Nothing controls him but himself.’

Lucidity dawned and I realised it was Riordan defending me, but I knew the other man was right. The berserker’s rage usually manifested when one was a child. As old as I was, I wasn’t sure what it meant for me. If I lost control, who could stop me from killing everyone?

‘It’s been three days. Rey needs to be conscious before we arrive in Truso.

The next session of the Royal Council is three days from now.

With your help, I can hold them off, but the old guards must at least see him walking into the palace.

’ Riordan was adamant, but all that was on my mind was the realisation that my nightmare hadn’t been in my imagination. It had really happened.

The woman’s face filled my mind. I searched through my memories, wondering if I’d missed something. The scene looked so real. The men, the chase, and her bruises weren’t fake. Yet the men had fought like assassins, and I wouldn’t be surprised if they were marked by the Brotherhood just like her.

Was she there to lure me in, or had I just interrupted their leisure? But her screams . . . those were real . Ugh, but if they were real, why would she attack me? Fuck, nothing makes sense .

Logic failed me, and the more I analysed the situation, the more my thoughts spiralled until a cold, wrinkled hand landed on my cheek, soothing the pit of hell that used to be my face.

‘Welcome back, Your Majesty,’ Ciesko said, and I opened my remaining eye, blinking until the face before me became recognisable.

‘How bad is it?’ My question was barely a groan, the words mangled by pain when he removed his hand.

‘You’ll live, but . . . there were complications,’ the healer said, propping up the pillow behind me when I tried to rise.

‘Of course,’ I said, muttering a curse. ‘What kind? And can you do something about this pain? It’s hard to focus when it feels like there’s a spike being hammered into my skull.’

‘I’ve had some difficulty healing you. Whoever made this poison was a mage—or working with a mage.

I cleansed the toxins, but certain components that have saturated your flesh have an anchor that has resisted my magic, so I’ve isolated them with a lattice of aether.

Once we’re in Truso, I’ll send for someone skilled in purging. Maybe they can help.’

Ciesko glanced to the side, and I followed his gaze to see an exhausted Riordan slumped on the bench wearing a concerned frown.

‘Maybe?’ I grunted, considering the implications of what had happened. ‘And if they can’t?’

‘The lattice won’t hold forever, sire. When it fails, the consequences will be severe, but we have several specialists in Dagome with an affinity for poisons, and there’s always the light-fae healers.’

I shook my head. With several open border disputes, informing the light fae that the king of Dagome was injured and barely able to rule was out of the question, at least for now. ‘How much time do I have?’

‘Months, more likely years. No need to worry, sire.’

Ciesko’s answer didn’t frighten me. If anything, it brought me peace knowing that I had time to secure my country.

‘Did our men at least find any clues about who she was?’ I asked, trying to find something I could control.

‘The bodies you left behind were Brotherhood members. We also found this,’ Riordan said, passing me an object wrapped in cloth, ‘next to your cloak.’ The bundle was shaped like a dagger, but when I unwrapped it, a small, bloody hairpin with a viper’s head fell onto the wagon floor.

Its tip was broken, revealing a hollow blade.

Are dwarves in on this, too? I wondered. The item was a prime example of dwarven craftsmanship, similar to the fang blade favoured by alchemists.