Thirty-eight

Marravae tried to breath and calm herself, fighting dizziness as Erthor helped her into a seat.

“Her Highness needs to lie down.”

“She can lie down after the wedding.” 

“He says she can lie down after” the Cuphisian healer swallowed, “after the wedding.”

“If he expects her to stand for it she must lie down until then.” Erthor scowled.

“Your Highness-”

“We are not retreating to a bedroom just yet.”

“A couch could be brought.” The healer’s back was damp as if he were sweating.

“Fine. Have one brought.” Myrin waved his hand dismissively.

Myrae came into the room looking nervous and hurried to her brother. Marravae couldn’t make out what was said but there was something about a cup and drops. Myrin didn't look upset.

“It will be blamed on the upset of the day. Worry marrs your loveliness. Stand with me at my wedding and think-”

“He’s our father!” Myrae looked as if she might be ill.

“Is something wrong with the King?” Marravae managed to get the words out. The pair gave her a dirty look and stepped away to the other side of the chamber.

“What are they talking about?” Erthor frowned.

“Something is wrong with the King, I think. She said something about a cup and drops. Myrin isn’t concerned but Myrae is upset.”

Men bustled in with the couch and Erthor helped her to it, catching one of the healers lingering nearby and hissing inaudibly in his ear. The man paled and turned to speak with the others quietly before slipping out.

On the sofa, with Erthor standing and blocking the view of the others, she carefully adjusted Gaeleath’s knife that she’d managed to pick up and conceal in the fold of her skirt, putting it into her sleeve was what she most wanted to do but it would be noticeable. Making it more secure in the fold would have to do.

Lying down, the dizziness faded away and she tried to get her bearings. Gaeleath… he would be alright, he would have to be alright. The alternative could not be considered. Marravae took a deep breath. 

As if guessing her thoughts, Erthor stroked her hair as if she were a child and murmured, “He has Ellus, a competent man, at his side. Your brother will be well looked after.”

“What are the two of you whispering about?” Myrin sounded annoyed. “Someone stay close and keep me informed of what they say.”

“What did you say?” one of the healers came closer and asked with an apologetic tone. 

“I was reassuring her that her brother will be well looked after. Ellus is a competent man.” Erthor turned sourly to face him. “This strain is not good for her Highness in her current state.”

“He was reassuring-”

“I heard him.” Myrin smirked. “My wife’s delicate constitution will make it easy to replace her if she doesn’t behave.”

“I’m not your wife.”

“That will be remedied momentarily.”

The door burst open and the healer who had left stood in the doorway looking ill. “The King! The King!”

The Cuphisian healers rushed out and Erthor glanced down at her as if asking what she wished him to do. 

“If you wish to go with them-”

“No. They can tend their own King.” He smiled faintly. “You are my only concern.”

“Speak Cuphisian,” Myrae gave them an annoyed look. “I loathe the sound of Cemiriss.”

“He doesn’t speak it. Master Erthor doesn’t travel, he is our family’s-”

“Then he should remain silent.” Myrae waved her hand dismissively.

“What did the poisoner say?” Erthor asked coolly.

“She was insisting we speak their language or remain silent.” Marravae frowned, “Be careful, Master Erthor, I would be heartbroken if they harmed you.”

He offered a small inclination of his head.

“Did he insult me?” Myrae narrowed her eyes.

Before Marravae could come up with a careful answer, Myrin put his arm around his sister and gave one, “He called you a poisoner. Which you are, my beloved sister. But keeping him alive for now ensures my wife’s good behavior. He can be dealt with later.”

A fat man in an elaborate robe was shown in, his small eyes were sharp and his jowly face was set in a dubious expression. Marravae wondered if he’d heard the confession. 

“I was summoned.”

“Yes. You are to marry me to Princess Marravae.” 

She set her face into a scowl and the refusal was on the tip of her tongue.

“Think very carefully before you speak, my dove.” Myrin’s smirk as he glanced at Erthor made her want to sink Gaeleath’s blade into his face.

“What does King Merin say about this?” The fat man eyed her and then shook his head. “I will do no such thing without the King’s command. And no Princess should be wedded in a bloodied gown.”

“I am the Crown Prince and my father is indisposed. You will-”

“I will wait until he is disposed.” Turning his back on Myrin the man approached Erthor. “She doesn’t look well.”

“Master Erthor doesn’t speak Cuphisian.” Marravae inclined her head. “And I’m not well.”

“My Cemiriss is… small. I am Galuin, ahh above…”

“Galuin, a high priest here in Cuphisia?” Erthor inclined his head speaking slowly and clearly. “I am Master Erthor, I am above all other healers in Cemir. I attend the King and his family.”

“Ah, yes. Good.” Galuin gave a pleased nod. “Why is blood?” He pointed to her dress.

“Prince Myrin attacked the Crown Prince of Cemir. This is her brother’s blood. Your people are at war, though they don’t yet know it.”

Galuin blinked and turned to look at Myrin. “This is the blood of the Cemiri Prince?!”

“They won’t dare go to war once I’ve married-”

“You are already at war, Myrin.” Marravae gave him a gelid look. “The moment you attacked my brother and forced him to defend himself you took your people and mine to the very edge and when you attacked him again with your sword you pushed us all over the edge. You spilled my brother’s blood, you cannot claim that there is a standing arrangement.”

“I will go speak to King Merin.” Galuin’s face had turned crimson.

“You can’t. They poisoned him as they poisoned me.” Marravae watched Myrin’s face and caught the hint of a smile. “I drank from the cup meant for my brother and survived, I suspect they gave the King something stronger.”

The color drained from the priest’s face and he hurried out of the room.

Myrin moved to a rope on the wall and pulled it. A moment later a servant appeared. 

“Fetch whatever priests came with the High Augur.” 

After the servant left he came toward her with a faint smile. Erthor put himself between them.

“Get out of my way, old man.”

“Step aside, Master Erthor.” Marravae spoke firmly.

“I will not. He knows now that your peoples are at war and I believe he will harm you.”

“After I marry her.” Myrin smiled coldly. “Not before. But you will agree to it, Marravae. You will answer the priests politely and tell them you willingly marry me or I will gut the old man like I did your worthless brother.”

“You will do no such thing.” Celaena’s cheerful voice came from the doorway. She advanced with her knife drawn, smiling brightly.

Myrin started to laugh, drawing his sword as she advanced on him. “I don’t need more than one-”

The other three ladies followed with weapons of their own that looked as if they’d been taken from guards. Myrae opened her mouth to scream and Anrae rushed her, putting a short sword in the Princess’ belly before the woman had barely begun.

“Myrae!” Myrin had his back to her and his attention fully on his sister and Marravae knew it was her chance. The world went silent.

Pulling Gaeleath’s dagger from the fold of her skirt she sat up and came to her feet. Erthor moved behind her and for a moment she thought he was stopping her before she realized he was grasping the Prince’s jaw, jerking his head up with one hand and was now holding the upper part of his sword arm with the other. The knife went into the side of Myrin’s throat with all the strength she could summon and swept out as the arms instructor had once tried to teach her brother as she watched.

Sound came back and Myrae was making a quiet but horrible sound and vomiting blood. Myrin made no sound at all crumpled at her feet. Anrae’s dress was bloody and tears were streaming down the woman’s face.

“Breathe.” Erthor commanded in her ear and she took a deep breath. “She cannot walk to-”

“I can and I will.” Marravae corrected him. “I will run if I have to. Out all of you.”

They all began moving purposefully toward the door.

“Hide your weapons.” Celaena hissed. 

Short blades and daggers vanished into the folds of their dresses as well as could be managed as they moved silently through the halls. Near the doors, with the place Gaeleath had been attacked in sight, a cry went up of murder.

Erthor swept her up and snapped at the others, “Run.”

“This way.” Someone opened a door and they hurried into it. One of their servants led them through several narrow empty passages and out of a side door where two Areks were waiting.

“Take the Princess.” Erthor panted and thrust her at one of them. “Run.”

“We aren’t leaving you behind.” Aleesia and Ossa grabbed the exhausted healer and helped to support him in a quick jog. They were met before they were halfway to Volas’ lodging by an armed Arek escort.