The Poisoner's Revenge by Jeff Wheeler

Author:Jeff Wheeler [Wheeler, Jeff]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Amberlin
Published: 2019-05-27T05:00:00+00:00

The only time Ankarette had been imprisoned was when Lord Dunsdworth had arrested her and then sentenced her to death for the murder of his wife. She’d hated the helpless feeling then, but this was much worse. There was no sun to reveal the passage of time. New torches were brought daily, along with a meager set of rations, brought twice a day. They’d gone through the saddle bag from the courier’s horse and brought her gown down to her, which she’d changed into. But her poisoner bag, which she always kept at hand, held nothing that would solve her problem in time.

And time was something she had now in abundance. Time to pace. Time to think. She wished she had her needles and thread, and although she’d ask for a set, she’d been denied. She’d used her Fountain magic to try to find a way to escape. But she may as well have been buried with the corpse of Queen Morvared. There was no way out of the confinement. She’d examined the gears and locking mechanism. The keyhole was on the other side of the bars, higher than she could reach. Her cage had been designed by someone who knew the poisoner’s arts.

Days passed. Each one making her agony grow. After a week, the effects of the vial she’d drunk before leaving Kingfountain began to ebb, and the pain started again. It was an acute form of torture, trapping her in her agony, with no way to find relief. After the second week, her frantic feelings had grown worse. Eredur knew where she was. Had he sent Espion to try to find her? Surely King Lewis and Lord Hux were expecting it. And by doing so, her king had deprived himself of those who could best protect him.

There was no doubt in Ankarette’s mind that Lord Hux was going to try to kill Eredur. He would have to get past the Espion, of course. But without Ankarette there to warn him, he would be vulnerable. She ate her rations, feeling the oppression of her confinement.

After a month, while her insides chafed with pain, the temperature began to cool. Winter was coming soon. Guards brought two braziers to the bottom of the steps, leaving her some degree of warmth. And then another month passed. She took small sips from her near-empty vial, to prolong her life. She’d bent her hairpin into a needle and had used the courier’s uniform as her canvas. Sewing had been her passion, a skill she’d adopted from her mother. Needlework strengthened her Fountain magic, gave her insights. She came to realize how trapped she truly was. But the worst part was the torture of suspense. Not knowing what was happening in Ceredigion. Being helpless.

The Espion tried to rescue her on midwinter’s eve. She only knew it was that day because one of her jailors had mentioned it.

She heard the noises of alarm coming from the castle above. There were shouts, even the clash of arms.

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