Poisoned Wine

Jocelyn became pregnant.

Aurelian lost his mind with joy.

He gave her jewels reserved for queens.

Servants reserved for queens.

Rooms reserved for queens.

Then came the announcement.

After the child was born, Jocelyn would be crowned queen.

Her son would be named heir.

Around the same time, Aurelian began moving against House Vale.

Slowly at first.

An audit.

A demotion.

A border command reassignment.

Then arrests.

My father wrote nothing careless, but I knew the truth between his lines.

Aurelian meant to cut down the family that had lifted him up.

I went to him.

For the first time in years, I knelt not as ritual, but plea.

“Your Majesty, House Vale has never betrayed the crown.”

He did not answer.

“My father helped you take the throne.”

“I remember.”

“Then spare them.”

He looked tired.

Almost sad.

But not moved.

“Powerful houses become dangerous when left unchecked.”

I laughed once.

I could not help it.

“You mean useful when needed, dangerous when owed.”

His eyes sharpened.

I pressed my forehead to the floor.

“Strip me of my rank. Take my seals. Send me to a monastery. Only spare my family.”

“No.”

That was all.

No.

After he left, I sat on the floor for a long time.

Then I began writing letters.

House Vale would leave.

Not openly.

Not all at once.

Quietly.

Assets moved.

Children sent away.

Old retainers reassigned.

My father would resist.

So I wrote what I had never wanted to write:

Go to Elias.

Years ago, after Aurelian took the throne, Elias and his mother were said to have burned to death in a locked villa.

They had not.

I saved them.

Sent them beyond the border.

Aurelian never knew.

Now, the defeated crown prince might be the only shelter left for my family.

As for me, I had to remain.

If I fled too soon, Aurelian would notice.

If he noticed, House Vale would bleed.

So I waited.

Jocelyn’s wedding day arrived beneath a clear sky.

The palace was alive with music.

My palace was quiet.

I dressed in white.

Briar understood the moment she saw me.

“My lady.”

“Do not stop me.”

Her lips trembled.

“I never could.”

A palace maid entered carrying a tray.

One cup.

One silver wine pot.

She did not meet my eyes.

“High Consort,” she whispered, “Lady Jocelyn offers wine.”

Of course she did.

Even crowned queen, she could not bear me alive.

I looked toward the cherry tree.

Petals drifted down though the season had nearly passed.

“Wait,” I told the maid.

Then I began to dance.

It was the dance Aurelian loved most.

The one from years ago, when he would play flute beneath the blossoms and call me his clear song.

I danced slowly at first.

Then faster.

Sleeves turning.

White skirt sweeping petals.

A body remembers joy even when the heart has forgotten it.

I remembered his flute.

His smile.

The boy named Arlen.

The promise.

The lie.

When I reached the maid, I lifted the cup.

Briar made one broken sound.

I drank.

The poison was bitter.

Pain bloomed immediately.

Stomach.

Chest.

Throat.

Blood filled my mouth.

Still, I finished the dance.

That much dignity, at least, remained mine.

As the world blurred, my soul loosened from my body.

I saw myself fall beneath the cherry tree.

White dress.

Red lips.

Blood on petals.

And at last, I said what I had not been able to say while alive.

“Arlen, I do not love you anymore.”

“I do not miss you.”

“I do not wait.”

“I am no longer yours.”

The wedding drums continued in the distance.

Good.

Let him marry her.

Let him crown her.

I was finally leaving.