A War Of Traitors( ARTK, Book 2)

Chapter 151

Ocono 16th, 3329 A.G

  With Melmidoc in her arms, Tiffan lingered outside of Albree's door. In the past she wouldn't have thought twice, but so much changed when one became a mother. Not only did she worry for his safety, but her own as well. And his father....  he wasn't having the best day. When they finally found him, he and Amira were at one of the smaller bakeries- giving out and paying for expensive pastries many commoners would never have been able to afford.

  He recognized Tiffan's carriage as soon as it appeared on that street and knew something was wrong, though he had no idea what. When Tiffan stepped out of that carriage- intent on telling him herself, she looked like she wanted to throw up. She approached slowly, putting it off as long as possible.

  "We need to talk." She said, pulling him inside the bakery before Amira or anyone else could stop her.

  Milon raised an eyebrow, the calamity of the situation still lost to him. "Well? Talk then."

  "You....." Tiffan's own mother had died birthing her, and her father's death wasn't exactly mourned- but she didn't lack compassion. Losing a parent was a horrible thing for most people. Losing two, and in the way he had- was worse. "Your parents are dead."

  Milon had laughed, in denial. "No they're not."

  When Tiffan did not laugh along with him, that smile quickly faded. "They're not."

  He repeated those same words over and over again, and it was like watching Esabell be told a childhood friend of hers was executed for accidentally breaking her father's favorite wine glass. "You're lying to me. I don't know why you would... why you'd lie to me about something like that but you are-"

"I wish I were." Tiffan said, a friendly hand on his arm. "It would have been nice for Melmidoc to have grandparents."

Watching a fifteen year old collapse- fall to the floor like she'd only seen women do before, was not her idea of fun. In a way it was refreshing to see a man feel comfortable enough to have emotions, but he was young. Far too young for that kind of pain.

  People's parents were supposed to die in their eighties or nineties, when the child was in their sixties or seventies and had already been through the best years of their lives. They were supposed to be there to watch their grandchildren grow up, possibly even to see them get married and have children.

  "How ....did it ... happen?" Milon asked, gasping for  air and clutching at his chest. Tiffan had sat down next to him, shooting the baker a look as he emerged from his back room. The man immediately understood and turned around to go make more dough.

  "They were executed." Tiffan said. He'd raised an eyebrow, wanting specifics so he could be angry with an individual. "Beheaded by Renard Vraemore- or Ashhand. Whatever his name is. Milon... just as Nara Ashhand will pay for what she did to my sister.... Your parent's deaths will not go unanswered. I only ask for.... patience."

"Oh...oka....okay." Having just been told how they died, he struggled with words. "Then... I ask... I ask only that I am involved whenever... the deaths are answered."

  Tiffan had nodded.

As far as she knew, Milon hadn't left his chambers in over a day. Amira went in and out, but even she weren't able to make him eat. She shifted to hold Melmidoc more comfortably before knocking. "Is it safe to come in?"

  "Yeah-" Albree's voice called from inside. "I haven't crushed or...boiled anything in a few hours."

  She let herself in, momentarily confused when the first face she saw wasn't Albree's. "I though I told you to keep her out of it."

And yet there Vanora was,  hair up and out of the way- standing as if she'd been there a while.

  "Forgive me, my lady but-" Albree gulped. "As far as I recall I am your advisor, not a servant.  And Vanora... Vanora has been helpful in keeping the poisons stable while I work. She also made sure I did not die from inhaling the air as I boiled certain herbs."

Tiffan looked down. Perhaps her anger at Vanora for the previous failure was unjustified. No one got everything right all the time- then again she only needed the best serving her. In the coming war, anything less would get them both killed.

Perhaps the gods had made her fail that once, or it was all on her. Either way- it would not be allowed again.

"Fine." Tiffan said through gritted teeth." To be clear I trust Albree, not you. What is it you've been working on?"

Albree gestured to the left side of her table , where herbs and weeds, flowers and powders were strewn. In the middle of it all were a dozen or so small jars- and a completely unrecognizable smell.

"What is that?" Tiffan wrinkled her nose, shifting Melmidoc to the opposite side. "Are you sure it's safe for him to be in here-"

"Yes." Albree said and wiped her forehead. She picked up one of the jars, filled with a slightly yellow tinted, mostly clear liquid. "This is what we've been working on. The poison you asked for? It still needs a lot of work, but in theory- should kill someone almost three weeks after ingestion and have no telltale signs or symptoms. There is no cure- because something like this simply has never existed."

A wide grin spread across Tiffan's face. If it did what Albree said, she'd not only be rid of an enemy without shedding a single drop of blood- but they'd be credited for a first-of-it's-kind poison and be in even more history books.

  "Take all the time you need then." Tiffan cleared her throat. She considered Albree a friend, and the last year or so had proven it. No one else had the guts to kill her father- but Albree had finally gotten sick of him and taken things into her own hands. Tiffan would never stop being greatful for that. "Just get it right."