How to Poison Your Husband [COMPLETE! Cozy Romantasy With A Dash Of Murder]

Step 4a: Avoid feeling sorry for your target at all costs

Shit. Shitty Mc-shit-shit!

There was no time to get Ash. Ivelle nodded meekly. "Did His Highness say what he wanted?"

"Your presence. In his gardens. Right now." The guard shrugged apologetically. "Wish I could give you more info, but he started going on about tiny hats and became rather hard to understand after that."

"Right."

Ivelle steeled her spine.

It was going to be fine. She hadn't done anything wrong.

Well... except for physically and verbally assaulting the prince of Estrella yesterday.

But he probably didn't remember it.

... right?

So absorbed was Ivelle in her thoughts, she initially didn't notice the sheer amount of noise pervading the royal wing. But as the guards led her deeper into the royal quarters, a few sounds became impossible to ignore. Specifically the sound of two people – one male and one female – who seemed to be having far too good a time for ten AM on a Thursday.

"OH, SNUGGLEPIE!"

"OH, HONEY-BOO-BOO!"

"SPANK ME HARDER!"

"YES, MY SUGARPUFF!"

Ivelle was no expert at identifying voices, but the excessively macho baritone of King Gorhan was unmistakable.

Bloody Hell.

Ivelle cringed and fought the urge to cover her ears. Judging by the way the guards around her were speeding up, they were probably fighting the same inner battle.

As they neared the gardens, the sounds of shagging were replaced by a new set of (decidedly less happy) voices. Ivelle instantly recognized the annoyed, impatient tones of the Prince of Estrella. The other voice was unfamiliar, but there was an ingenuine sweetness to it that made Ivelle's scalp prickle.

It wasn't until she rounded the corner and an immaculate woman in a stately dress came into view that Ivelle realized the second speaker was the queen. 

"...don't know how the thief managed to do away with the guards in your garden yesterday, sweetie. My men are still investigating the egregious lapse in protocol. Don't worry, I will ensure those responsible are dealt with. We cannot have useless men serving as your protectors."

Ivelle hadn't paid much attention to Queen Ysette the night before. She had faded into the background against the overbearing toxic masculinity of the Estrellan king. An almost ethereal beauty hung about her slight frame, but in the sunlight, she looked wan, as though years spent indoors had leached the color from her skin.

"Whatever," Eirifold was saying. "I don't know why you insist on beheading all the guards every time something goes wrong. If you just kept the same ones alive and gave them a good talking to, they might have a chance to learn from their mistakes. Instead, it's just a constant churn of incompetents parading through the palace, day in and day out." He caught sight of Ivelle and his face brightened. "Ah! Jester! There you are."

Annoyance flashed across the queen's face. "Sweetie, why is the court jester here right now? It's only ten in the morning. Shouldn't you be attending to your studies?"

"Sorry, Mother. I think it best that I get started on my debauchery and revelry as early as possible today. After all, I can't disappoint all the servants who expect me to push them out windows, can I? Perhaps you should go bother Father; I think he's forgotten he has a council meeting to attend."

The queen did not look happy. Her brows drew together, and her mouth thinned into a line. A chill entered the air, and for a moment, Ivelle wondered if the queen might actually slap the prince.