The king sat propped against pillows on a vast bed, a sheet covering his legs to the waist. Several serious looking gentlemen stood on one side of the bed while Theodore hovered on the other. Yet another man held up a bottle of amber liquid to the bedside lamp, inspecting it. He must be Doctor Clegg. With the thick curtains pulled closed against the afternoon sunshine, the lamp's flickering flame and the dozens of candles spaced around the chamber provided the only light.
"Miss Cully!" the king cried upon seeing me. "Thank Hailia you're here." He flipped his hand at the man holding the bottle. "You're dismissed, Doctor."
Merdu.
The gentlemen exchanged glances. Doctor Clegg chuckled until he realized the king was serious. "But she's a—"
"A woman, yes. In my experience, women can be as capable as men, given the right training. Miss Cully learned about poisons from her father, a more knowledgeable doctor on the subject you won't find anywhere on The Fist."
"He was a village healer, sire," Doctor Clegg sneered. "What papers has he written? What classes has he taught?"
"If a doctor is spending time writing papers and teaching classes, he's not gaining experience. Now, please leave. All of you." The king shifted his weight and winced. His hand fluttered at his stomach. "Quickly, Miss Cully. The poison is working through me, I can feel it."
"You haven't been poisoned, Your Majesty," Doctor Clegg said in what sounded like a practiced monotone. "In my professional opinion—"
"I said get out! Go! If you don't leave immediately, my guards will throw you out of the palace."
The gentlemen couldn't leave fast enough. Doctor Clegg handed the bottle to Theodore, picked up his bag, and backed through the door, bowing as he did so. He lifted his gaze in the moment before Hammer closed the door on him. It was ice-cold and full of hate, and it was directed at me.
"Miss Cully," the king said on a groan. "Do you have an antidote in your bag?"
"I have to do some tests first to see what poisons were used." I looked around for the bedpan but saw none. "Have you vomited?"
"No."
"Purged your bowels?"
"Not lately."
I asked him to sit on the side of the bed then checked his vitals. His heart was regular and his eyes seemed clear. "Theodore, please open the curtains and put out the candles. Open a window too."
Hammer helped Theodore as I checked the king's temperature. He was a little hot but not dangerously so.
"Describe your symptoms," I said.
The king indicated his stomach and winced again. "It aches here."
I lifted his shirt. "When did the pain start?"
He sucked air between his teeth as I pressed into the soft flesh. "Just after lunch."
"Describe the pain to me."
He pointed to the exact location and I felt there. "It's not sharp but not dull either."
"Does your stomach feel as though it's churning?"
"No."
"Do you feel as though you want to throw up?"
"No." After a moment in which I continued to press into his stomach, he said, "It must have been in the duck. It tasted off."
"Did anyone else eat the duck?" Hammer asked.
"I don't know. I ate alone in my dining room." His breathing became deep, ragged, and I stopped inspecting his stomach. It seemed to be upsetting him.
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The Palace of Lost Memories
FantasyThe king's magnificent palace was built in a matter of weeks. No one saw the builders, no villagers are allowed beyond the gilded gate, and only one servant has ever left. The haunted look in her eyes as she was recaptured by the palace guards is so...