Honour or Reason - Book 1# in the Burning Prince Chronicles

Chapter Twenty-Two

Conlaed scowled as Danae revealled a vial of glowing pearlescent liquid. "This will help with the pain."

He uncorked the vial and sniffed it suspiciously. "What is it?"

Danae laughed. "Better you do not know, Your Highness. I can tell you this - it is not an unpleasant flavour."

Con peered at the glowing liquid disdainfully. The aroma of burning candles drifted from it, yet it felt cold to touch. The prince swirled it around the vial, lips pressed angrily together as Denross urged, "Come now, Con. It is surely preferred to drink a pretty potion than to collapse from pain, is it not?"

Of course, the knight was correct, although Conlaed refused to tell him so. He smiled meekly from where he sat sprawled upon one of the velvet couches in Danae's sector. Hanrick had not spoken since they entered. His grey eyes were hard and troubled, and they constantly raked over him. Con watched his King curiously. Hanrick's lips were pressed firmly together and he was fidgeting with the collar of his doublet. He kept glancing to and from Danae and Conlaed, eyes growing wide each time his stare landed on the shining vial. He was asking a question and the answer was not what he expected.

"Drink up, sweet boy," Hanrick huskily cooed, "It will relieve you of these odd pains. Drink, Conlaed."

Beside the King, Denross and Keptelle were nodding encouragingly, kind smiles playing upon their deceitful lips. Danae placed a steady hand upon the prince's shoulder. Her voice was calm, but he sensed a tenseness to it as she chided, "Don't be a child, Conlaed. Drink."

With an uncertain smile at all the traitors around him, he held the vial to his lips and gulped down the medicine. It was thick as melting wax and slid down his throat slowly. It was so cold, Conlaed was certain his tongue froze as it slid into his mouth. It filled his entire mouth, sealing it like a letter and panic spread through his as he struggled to swallow the dreadful potion. His mouth was filled with the taste of candle and toffee as it fused his mouth together. Con gripped the side of the couch as he tried to force the horrible stuff down his throat. Danae nodded reassuringly, while the two knights and the King's faces grew pale with fear. Conlaed shut his eyes, blocking out the fear radiating off those in the room. Slowly, the last of the medicine dripped down his throat.

Con opened his mouth with a gasp, sucking in as much air as he could. Coldness had spread through his body as soon as the last of the potion disappeared from his mouth. Conlaed swallowed several times to ensure there wasn't a drop left on his tongue. He ran his shaking hands through his hair as Keptelle exclaimed, "Con, you're pale as death!"

The knights charged to his side and knelt anxiously before him. Con laughed frailly. "I feel like death, my friends. Perhaps this is what my father felt before he died..."

He was proud of himself for remembering his act and was rewarded with a silence from the others in the room. Hanrick shifted uncomfortably, while Denross rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly and Keptelle coughed with surprise. Con offered them all a dangerous smile. Fear me, traitors. The wrath of Conlaed has only just begun. He rolled his shoulders and clumsily rose to his feet. To his relief, the potion had actually worked. The fire within him was quenched and instead replaced with numbing cold. He liked the cold. Conlaed could think more clearly, sharply even. It calmed his nerves and let a confidence settle over him. He hoped it stayed with him enough to concoct Hanrick's death.

After a long moment, Danae swept to an enormous desk at the back of the expansive chamber and picked up a box full of empty vials. She carried it back to Con and mumbled an incantation. Before their very eyes the vials filled with the pearlescent potion. Danae waved her hand slowly over it, showering the open vials with red sparks. In an instant, the vials were all sealed with gold wax. She held them out to Denross. "Take these to Prince Conlaed's chambers." She turned to Con with a sad smile. "You will not remember, but when you were a child you suffered from this rare illness - I fear it is returning; drink one of these vials a day. Hopefully they will lower the chance of another outbreak. Come to me when you run out."