From there, it was a simple matter of standing back and watching as one by one the realization dawned in their eyes. By then, it was far too late.
Jocasta had learned many things in her years on the high seas and visiting other lands. One of those was this particular poison. Odorless, tasteless, and colorless, it was perfect for something like this. If there was an antidote, it remained in far off Lang. It wasn’t anything she ever thought she would have a need for.
In truth, she never thought she would have a use for the poison itself, either. She bought it from a back-alley shop more as a curiosity than anything else. The shop was small and seedy, and she wasn’t sure it would even work. It was only a curiosity that caught her fancy; although if it did work, and she needed to rid herself of a troublesome crew member…better to use something that would make it appear an illness had taken them than risk mutiny.
Now, looking over the table as head after head collapsed onto it with a satisfying thunk, her doubts about the poison’s efficacy were gone. It worked well. If she ever got back to Lang, which looked increasingly unlikely now, she’d have to get some more. Perhaps when all was said and done, she’d send Darius, assuming he ever returned.
She took a seat and watched as Childress breathed his last. The poison wasn’t kind. It broke down whatever was inside, lungs, heart, other organs. Jocasta didn’t know, it was never a branch of knowledge that interested her. There were no painkillers associated with it, either. As the organs turned to so much gunk, the victim felt every bit of it.
“I am sorry,” she said, reaching over to hold the old man’s hand. His eyes were wild, and he grasped on to her with all the strength left in him. “If you only could have seen it my way, we could have avoided this.”
Childress made a hacking sound, his throat working furiously. Down at the end of the table, Lord Jerome, that fat sanctimonious fool, finally succumbed, slipping from his chair to sprawl on the floor.
For the first time, Jocasta felt something and allowed herself a slight giggle. That one made her happy.
She sobered as she turned back to Childress. His face was a deep red now, shading into purple. It would only be moments.
“Goodbye old friend,” she whispered as he slumped down into his seat.
Huh. She would have thought his death would make her sad.
She picked up her own cup and drank, lowering it after a few sips and letting it spill onto the floor. No, you really couldn’t taste it.
♦ ♦ ♦
Clean up was easy. At first, Jocasta had been afraid of the reactions of the rest of the House. Then, she realized that horrible accidents befall others, much as she was thinking would await Celia. More than that, there was a secret House out there somewhere. Assassins and spies, hidden in the shadows deeper than Whispering Pines ever was, and answerable only to Jamshir.
One of them must have infiltrated the House and poisoned the wine. Who knew why she only sickened and wasn’t dead like the rest? Out of them all, she was the only one who lived away from the Greenweald for so long. Perhaps something in her foreign diet, or something that she had been exposed to. Maybe she hadn’t drunk as much. Or maybe it was simply a stronger constitution.
Regardless, she was deathly ill for two days. Vomiting, sweating, convulsions. When she recovered, she was weak and barely able to stand on her own.
But yes, she could still assume her duties as Head of House.
Her new council was younger than the old. And now they weren’t only furious at the past actions of Jamshir. Now, he had reached into their own House and attacked them here.
“We must attack them at once!” This from Lord Jerome’s oldest son, a man named Jeffery.
“We can’t,” Jocasta said. She sat at the head of the table in her appropriate seat, wrapped in a heavy blanket even though the day was warm. “We’re not strong enough on our own. Especially now.”
Funny thing. Now that he was gone, Jocasta saw the wisdom of Childress’s advice more clearly. He was right. Allying with Jamshir was madness.
Instead, she would get Towering Oaks to attack Glittering Birch. House Whispering Pines could still play the same role, standing by in support that would never come, ready to step into the power vacuum as soon as it opened.
“Towering Oaks?” One of the other council members, a young woman, timid and unsure of her place here, regardless of who her grandmother had been.
“Perhaps,” Jocasta mused. “Maybe when they get word of what has happened here.”
There were sage nods all around.
“Still,” she continued, “the relationship between our Houses is not what it once was. Lords Florian and Jediah were long-time friends, while I hardly know their new Head at all.”
“Surely that can change,” Jeffery said.
“In time.”
“We don’t have time. What if they try again?”
There were dubious glances at the wine in front of each of them, wine that hadn’t been touched.
“We’ll weed out the infiltrator,” Jocasta said. “Don’t forget, the secret House may be devious, but we are Whispering Pines. Our stock in trade is secrets. We’ll find him or her and eliminate the threat. We’ll be more cautious going forward, but we will not be ruled by fear.”
As if to illustrate her point, she picked up her glass and took a long drink. The taste of the wine reminded her of the poison she voluntarily ingested, and it took all her control to suppress a shudder.
“Now, if you’ll all forgive me, I am tired. I’m still recovering from Jamshir’s treacherous attack,
