Page 15 of Time of the Druid (Stones of Scotland #7)
Chapter 15
N orah’s fingers trembled. Damn it, she never shook with nerves. All the times she’d done this before, on Edmondson’s orders, she’d held herself together. But this was different. This wasn’t for Edmondson any more. This was for herself, and for Matthew. They couldn’t afford to have things go wrong another time.
Norah had carefully chosen a selection of herbs from the stillroom, weighing each leaf and root with the precision of a surgeon. The mixture she brewed was one of the deadliest she’d ever handled—so potent, so volatile, that a single drop absorbed through the skin might have been enough to kill. She’d scrubbed her hands raw half a dozen times after preparing the concoction. The scent of the herbs lingered in her nose like a warning. She carried the vial tucked deep inside her belt, the fragile glass pressing against her side like a live grenade. Any mistake could be fatal, and not just for her target.
Slipping into the roundhouse was not easy. She had no way of knowing where Caradoc might be sitting, so she had to creep in behind a large, burly warrior, using his bulk to shield her from view until she could hide in the shadows.
And there Caradoc was, thin features pinched in disapproval as he sat beside Bedwyn. Norah took a deep breath.
How different this felt, making the decision herself. The responsibility for his life lay in her hands—and this time not because she was a puppet, acting on someone else’s orders. The feeling was oddly exhilarating, and that made Norah uncomfortable. This was not who she wanted to be. But as always, what choice did she have? She knew what had to happen.
She hadn’t told Matthew and Jack of her plans, just told them to trust her. They would be lurking outside the roundhouse, waiting for her to update them. How did they feel, stuck there, with nothing to do but wait?
Norah was almost directly behind Bedwyn now, but she still hovered in the shadows. No one had even spared her a second glance—there was no shortage of women hovering around the edge of the hall. Bedwyn enjoyed pretty company while he ate. Judging by Caradoc’s eyes, darting around the room, he was just the same. It made Norah sick.
She had to wait for the perfect moment. Women circled the hall, wine jugs in their hands, topping up the cups of the men who sat at the main tables. Norah waited, watching the nearest woman move ever closer, one cup at a time.
It was almost too easy. Norah slid one foot forward at just the right moment, her heel catching the edge of the serving woman’s path. A slight twist of her hips, perfectly timed, nudged the other woman off balance. The jug sloshed, wine spilling down the side, and the startled cry that followed was just loud enough to mask Norah’s smooth movement. She reached out quickly to steady the woman, her fingers tightening just long enough to keep her upright. No one looked their way. No one noticed. And the poor servant, flustered and red-faced, would never even suspect what had truly happened.
“Let me help you,” Norah said softly, reaching forward to support the woman’s elbow. “How about I pour what’s left of this jug while you fetch another one?”
“Thank you,” the serving woman whispered fervently before scurrying away. Bedwyn must be hard on his servants’ mistakes. He certainly didn’t act like an easy master.
Norah slipped her herbal mixture into the wine jug with a single smooth motion. Sleight of hand was one of the most useful skills any poisoner could hope to acquire, and she had practised for years. Even a close observer would have no idea the wine was now tainted.
Moving slowly and carefully so as to avoid attention, Norah came up behind Caradoc and poured the wine into his almost-empty cup. He didn’t even acknowledge her, just picked it up and began drinking. For a second, she stared at Bedwyn’s cup, tempted to give him the same treatment. But no. That was not necessary. She slipped back into the shadows and gently poured the rest of the wine onto the rush-covered earth floor, letting the width of her skirt hide the stain from view.
“This jug’s empty,” she said to the next serving woman who passed. “I don’t know where to fill it.”
“I’ll take that off your hands,” the woman said, just as Norah had hoped.
And then there was nothing left to do but wait. This was always the worst part. What if it didn’t work? What if she’d made a terrible mistake? Tonight, she had an extra worry—what if she’d done her job too well?
The time ticked by with agonising slowness. Norah’s pulse throbbed in her ears as she watched the flickering torchlight cast jagged shadows across the hall. Each second dragged its heels like a prisoner in chains, stretching out into unbearable silence. Had she measured the dose right? Was the mixture too strong—or not strong enough? From her position, she could only see the back of Caradoc’s head, his posture unmoving, his hand resting casually on the cup. Her eyes burned from staring, her breath shallow. A single cough, a shift of his shoulders—every tiny movement jolted her nerves like a crack of thunder. She gripped the edge of her skirt, knuckles white, willing the poison to take hold before it was too late.
Then he collapsed, his face hitting the table. There was a second of silence, then all the people around him burst into action. Norah hovered, still waiting.
“The druid!” someone shouted. “He’s taken ill.”
“…still breathing,” someone else said, their voice just about audible over the noise and chaos.
“Get him back to his own people,” Bedwyn said, his voice tight with very real fear. “I’ll not have the death of a druid on my hands. You and you, get him to shore now. Don’t waste a single moment, do you hear me?”
In all the chaos, it was easy enough for Norah to leave the hall again. No one paid any attention to a single woman, stranger or not. She found Matthew and Jack on her way to the guesthouse and gestured for them to follow her. It wasn’t until the door of the tiny roundhouse closed behind them that she dared speak.
“Caradoc has been dealt with,” she said coolly. “He will be rushed back to the druids right away.”
“Still alive after your poison?” Jack asked, looking slightly surprised.
Norah nodded.
Matthew just stared at her.
“You poisoned him?” he asked at last.
“I did what I had to do,” Norah snapped. “And you already knew that I dabbled with poison. Don’t you remember how I first came to Dal Riada? How you first met me? I was there to poison your stepfather, Matthew. Don’t act so shocked. You knew who you were allying yourself with. Besides, Caradoc will live. Probably.”
Matthew shook his head slowly. Norah couldn’t tell if that was horror or admiration in his eyes. But why should she care what he thought of her? She just needed his help to get that compass back.
And then she would poison him as well.