Green Elixir

Turns out, drunk princes are funnier than most circus shows. Jesters don't hold a candle.

We've moved to Cyrus' study, content with sitting on the leather couch. Valerius is to my left while Cyrus is to my right. The fireplace burns bright, illuminating the closed space.

Florian's completely out of it by the third glass. He's staring into the ceiling with a faraway look, cheeks flushed and pupils blown.

I'm not sure if alcohol is supposed to have an effect so intense, but then again, if there's anything I've learned about liquor from Thorn Garden, they're full of surprises. Psychosis via a mysterious velvet liquid? Not the strangest thing I've seen or experienced.

Prince Arthur's chiseled face comes to mind. A slow and warm feeling embraces me, and I smile without meaning to.

My first ally. My first friend. The infamous red rose. I wonder what he's up to now.

Probably in a similar state as his awkward brother who, as of the past hour, hasn't peeped a single word—a rough transition from his never-ending rambling earler this evening.

Florian isn't my main concern, however.

Five glasses in and Cyrus remains composed as ever, not a hint of intoxication apart from a soft flush and a lazy smile. He looks more human, somewhat, as he listens carefully. To me. To my ramblings.

Wait, I'm the one rambling?

"And there's no way Prince Arthur didn't know Lady Mielle wasn't to be married to Lord Richard—senior, not junior. Her engagement ring is huge!" I exclaim through short hiccups. "The diamond on that thing could power an entire lighthouse! Sailors wouldn't even know night from day."

The composed prince chuckles into his hand, soft bangs straying from his usual slicked back style. There's no way to tell whether he's being sincere, but his laughter is a pleasant sound and he's leaning into his hand as if he's relaxed.

I hope he's relaxed. It'll make this entire process easier.

"I'm surprised you're so familiar with the affairs of other nobles, Princess Penelope. I didn't peg you to be the nosy type." Cyrus comments.

Telling him that I've studied Thorn Garden's excess lore for his route and Arthur's would make me look positively insane. So instead, I cough, "Well, yes, Aurelia has a tendency to overhear and overshare. I'm simply relaying what I've learned."

Valerius snickers beside me. My husband dips into the conversation whenever the topic interests him, leaving a snarky comment about other, according to him, good-for-nothing nobles, now and then.

It's clear that he's growing impatient. I am too. But there have been no openings. When I try to refill Cyrus' cup, he beats me to it. When it seems like he's being careless, leaving his glass vulnerable, he places his hand on top of it.

Has he caught on to our plan?

"Tell me, then," Prince Cyrus says, voice sly. "Have you heard anything about me, princess?"

Heard? A fair amount. But read? Well, I know too much.

My head shifts ever so slightly, trying to gauge my husband's reactions through my peripheral. There's an opening here. Valerius looks like he senses the opportunity as well.

This is the chance to make use of all those hours spent on the visual novel.

If there's one thing Cyrus likes, as I've learned, it's being acknowledged. If there's one thing I'm good at, it's acknowledging. The prince can sniff out flattery as well as he can dish it out. If I want to get into his good graces, I have to be careful with the portions I'm serving.

Scooting around, I make myself comfortable on the couch, "I'm sure you know what they say about you, my prince."

He smiles, playful. "I may have some awareness. Still, I asked you first, princess."

"Princr Cyrus," I utter his name, tasting in on my tongue—nothing sweeter than a successful attempt on someone's life. "I haven't known a royal so praised since King Louis from three generations ago."

"Oh?"

Maybe it's the alcohol running through my veins, but I'm starting to recognize tension in the air, slow and agonizingly sly. It burns quietly, as warm as the fireplace, but it threatens to grow uncontrollable.

One more sip and it might be a wildfire.

"Knowledgeable, charismatic, great conversation, a capable leader whose diplomatic prowess can bring peace to the world," I praise, acting coy. "Might I add unfairly handsome. And sweet."

Cyrus stares at me for a moment, eyes ignited with a flame. "I'm honored you think of me that way, Penelope."

"Well, those are the things I heard from others. There are a few things I can confirm."

"Is that so?" He returns, teasing. For once, I think the prince is being genuine.

Something about it is inherently wrong. My husband is sitting next to me, a meter away, as I flirt my way into his brother's drink. I'm probably about to kill Cyrus with this mysterious liquid, depending on Valerius' intentions.

There are a dozen and two princples being violated by the act alone, as unconventional as the arrangement is.

But the guilt of an assassination attempt is absent. I only want to get this over with.

After all, Valerius asked for an attempt without delivering precise instructions. Who am I to disappoint a waiting prince when he's so driven by his goals?

I stand from my seat, ensuring my movements are deliberate, sensual. I feel Cyrus' trained eye on my back.

"Although I would like to get to know you more, my prince. Just to confirm the rumors."

His shoulders are firm when I run my hands across them, pretending to harmlessly massage the knots. A kind gesture—it could mean nothing, coming from his sister-in-law. His glass is light when I pluck it from his hand. It's away from his view when I turn my back, pouring from a new bottle.

Quickly, I pull the vial from between my breasts, dribbling a few drops of the green liquid into Cyrus' glass. It dissolves and disappears, blending in with the rest of the velvet. Obviously a poison of some kind. Hopefully the amount I've added is enough to do its job.

Valerius' presence in the room makes my heart race. He looks expectant when I return the glass to his brother.

If this fails, the next assassination attempt might be on me.

Cyrus takes it from my hand, delivers to his lips, pauses in contemplation. What is he contemplating?

Cyrus seems to sense Valerius' presence as well. I see the exact moment when he's pulled back to reality—his brother is in the room and I am his brother's wife.

He sets down the glass without drinking from it. Fuck. And he stands up.

"My stay here has been a pleasure thanks to you, Penelope." He says with both his hands cupping mine. "But I believe I should stop. My journey tomorrow is long."

No. This can't be happening right now. The things Valerius will do to me if I fail, I can't begin to imagine them.

Cyrus takes a step away, moving towards the exit of the study.