Chapter 6✨

They applied the poison liberally-whatever it is must be cheap and

easily bought in bulk.

She wafted the smell toward her, bracing for something rancid, but

detected nothing. Then she brought it closer to her nose.

It smells sweet, like an overripe apple. Shea grass and... bluecap mushrooms. All the knights appear to have the same symptoms, so I won't have to check every blade.

Rishe stood back up and headed for the coach.

Oliver took a step after her. "Your Highness, Lady Rishe is-"

"Leave her. She may do as she pleases."

"She's well trained," Oliver mused. "But a battlefield is no place for a young lady. She probably wasn't prepared for such a dreadful spectacle."

Rishe ignored the murmurs and focused on her work. There they are.

I'll take these, these, and...

"The poison must be a sleeping drug," she overheard Arnold saying.

"Hunters use such drugs to weaken larger prey. I doubt this dose is lethal."

"But it certainly is annoying," replied Oliver. "We're still two days out from Galkhein. Lugging a company of sleeping men in armor won't be pleasant."

"We'll have to stop somewhere nearby. A hunter's settlement.

Perhaps they will have an antidote"

"Excuse me." Rishe, who'd returned from the carriage, raised a hand.

"I have an antidote."

"What?"

The entire company stared at her in awe.

***

As it turned out, Arnold's guess was right.

This sweet-smelling substance was a hunter's drug, made from ingredients that were only toxic in their raw form. Heat rendered them harmless. Rishe had encountered this poison several times before, curing a customer afflicted with it during her life as an apothecary.

"A lethal dose for a grown man would fill a wine glass. They likely got less than a hundredth of that," Rishe explained to Arnold, not looking up from her work. "Still, the numbness can block their airways with the roots of their tongues. It's best to lay them on their sides."

"Yes, I understand the theory and the solution." Arnold gazed down

at Rishe's hands. "The part I'm struggling with is why you're the one telling me this."

"Well, I know how to make the antidote," Rishe said patiently as she muddled the herbs together in the white soup bowl she'd borrowed for her flowers. She crushed them with the back of a spoon before adding another dried flower, crushing that as well, and combining them to form a paste.

This process would be easier with a pestle, but she wasn't about to complain. "This poison is common—it's cheap and easy to make, which often means the antidote is simple as well."

The antidote was synthesized, in fact, when hunters witnessed a deer showing no symptoms after eating a certain mushroom. They tested those along with other common herbs the deer ate. Rishe mentally thanked them for their scientific rigor as she added a bit of water, straining it all through a cloth.

Rishe stood up, brandishing the bowl of bright green medicine.

"Boiling would make the antidote more potent, but this works in a pinch." That was when she noticed the astonished stares. Unsure of what social faux paus she'd perpetrated, she looked away. Oliver was completely stunned. Arnold looked thoughtful. It was imperative the knights were treated as soon as possible, but to Rishe's dismay, no one was moving.

Do they not trust me? That makes sense. Anyone would be reluctant to use medicine concocted by a complete stranger. But the longer we wait, the harder the poison will become to cure.

She needed to dispel their doubts. Rolling up her sleeve, Rishe approached Arnold and drew his sword from its scabbard. "I need to borrow this for a moment, Your Highness."

"What are you-

She pushed the blade against the soft skin of her inner arm. Blood welled up, along with the sharp sting of pain. Nothing compared to her injuries sustained during her life as a knight, though.

Arnold did not share her nonchalance. "What do you think you're

doing?!"

He grabbed for her arm. She stepped out of his grasp. Was blood truly so shocking? She didn't have the time to worry about it. Clutching the overfull bowl, Rishe hurried back to the knights.

"Don't worry. This isn't poison," Rishe said. She demonstrated as much by drizzling it with a spoon over her own fresh wound. It stung. That meant the ingredients were working.

"This is crushed liquori grass, luqua flowers, and carilya nuts. I'll swallow some if that's what it takes to prove it's safe." It was horribly bitter; she hoped it wouldn't come to that. "The paralysis will last for days.

Please make up your mind quickly."

"Make up our mind?"

"Will you allow me to cure the poison? Or would you rather drag paralyzed soldiers all the way to Galkhein? I suppose you could waste His Highness's time searching for a hunter's settlement to use their antidote." She smiled serenely. "It makes no difference to us. Right, Your Highness?"

In the end, Rishe applied the antidote.

The recovery took a few hours. While they waited, Rishe picked herbs in the same meadow she'd been gazing at with yearning from the carriage. A fortuitous turn of events. She found anti-inflammatory herbs and flowers to ease sour bellies, ingredients for curing headaches, and mushrooms for inducing slumber. She wrapped them all up in a handkerchief.

In the meantime, Arnold dispatched a messenger to this region's lord,

making arrangements to deliver the apprehended bandits. After coordinating with Oliver, he drifted over to Rishe.

"I see your interest in flowers is mercenary, rather than ornamental," he said, surveying the heaps of herbs gathered on the bank of the pond. He sat down beside her.

When he didn't say anything more, Rishe went back to work plucking leaves from plants with valuable stems. The leaves had no medicinal effects, but they did make a decent broth. Slumber mushroom spores were a nuisance unless dried; they were spread out beside her in the sun.

I wonder, would he be annoyed if I attached herbs to the roof of the coach? That would be unusual adornment for a crown prince's retinue, but it wouldn't hurt to ask.

She realized, quite suddenly, that Arnold was looking at her. At her hands, specifically. He sat cross-legged with his chin propped on his fist, staring absently, like a kid watching a column of ants march by.

What is so fascinating about herbs?

Their eyes met. "Am I bothering you?" he asked.

Rishe shook her head slowly. "Not at all. I was just curious what

caught your eye."

"Nothing specific. I was just thinking how very unusual you are." He was smiling again. "I'm looking forward to how you'll surprise me next."

Like I'm some sort of rare pet he bought to entertain him. She didn't

like that. Nothing she'd done was at all remarkable normal tasks performed by a normal person.

"I didn't make that antidote for your amusement."

"I realize that." The instigating smile faded from his lips. "You know, those knights you coerced into taking your home-brewed medicine were all born in the slums."

"Coerced? That's hardly the word I'd use."

"Galkhein claims to value merit above all else, but in the end, people are judged by where they came from. Despite this, those men fought their way up from nothing."

Rishe paused in plucking the seeds from a flower and looked up at

Arnold

"The men with the worst cases of the paralysis were all newly assigned. They've spent weeks training to ensure this mission was a success. That older knight—the one who bowed to you-sustained an injury protecting the rookies. He cares deeply about his men."

"You seem to care about them too," Rishe commented.

"I handpicked them for my retinue." Arnold clambered to his feet, only to fall into a bow. "And you kept them safe. You have my deepest gratitude."

Rishe found herself at a loss for words. Was this Arnold putting on a

mask to hide the monster within? Or was this the real him? She remembered the way he'd looked when he held his blade to the bandit's throat, like a child poised to break a toy he had grown bored of.

"Don't mention it," Rishe said, uncomfortable. "I knew how to do it,

so I did."

Arnold laughed softly. "Be that as it may, I'd still count a noblewoman who can brew remedies from wildflowers by the side of the road a rare find."

"Earlier, when you grabbed my wrist..." Rishe steered the subject away from her incongruous knowledge. "You broke your promise. You said you wouldn't touch me.

"That was reflex," Arnold protested. "I thought you were going to

hurt yourself."

Such a simple conversation, so casual. It had Rishe feeling positively

peculiar.

"Why are your knights so wary around me?" she asked.

"Wary? Oh, they were all at the palace when you broke your first engagement. They're most likely concerned I'm bringing home a villainous jilt who will lead to my ruin. Something silly like that."

"I see." Apparently, being dumped by a prince called into question

one's herbalist abilities.

"I'm glad you mentioned it," Arnold went on, "because there may be people in Galkhein who will oppose our union. I will do everything in my power to protect you, but you must bring any insults or threats to me right away."

"Are there likely to be many?"

"In theory, the crown prince may choose his own wife, but the done thing is, of course, to marry a princess. I assume a duke's daughter would have at least some ties to the royal family?"

He assumed correctly. She was in the family tree, if a rather distant

branch.

"My father has ordered me to choose a bride from a different

kingdom rather than a woman of my own land because"

"One never knows when a hostage will come in handy," Rishe

finished for him.

Galkhein was an expansionist empire. Currently, peace reigned —but peace was precarious. If Galkhein demanded any of the countries to hand over a princess bride, then none were in a position to refuse. With his daughter in the hands of a foreign power, no king would dare oppose a war that power cared to wage.

"I sent a message to my father telling him I happened upon a close relation of Hermity's king—a duke's daughter who had been recently tossed aside by her fiancée," Arnold said. "I also may have implied I was the reason for your falling out-yours and the prince's. Why, when I saw a woman so powerful and connected and beloved, I couldn't help but plunder you."

"Plunder me? That's certainly one way to describe it." Dietrich had

kicked up an almighty fuss, despite being the one who broke the engagement.

"My father approves of you because he sees you as a bargaining chip.

There will be others who aren't prepared to accept you so willingly."

"Is that so?" Rishe said steadily.

"Never fear," Arnold responded. "They'll eat their words, every one of them. They will receive you as their crown princess if they value their _"

"No, being a hostage is perfect."

Arnold stared at her. "Hm?"

"As a hostage, I'll have no official duties, will I? We can pretend I'm here only under great duress, and there will be no need for my comment on governmental or diplomatic affairs."

Arnold hesitated. "I suppose not."

"Excellent! Then I can live my dream of being utterly useless." Rishe trembled with delight. The thought of acting as an ambassador had really been weighing on her mind. Being a princess was nonstop work. Having been groomed for the position from an early age, Rishe knew members of the royal family barely even had time to sleep.

But prisoners didn't have places in government.

"This is such a weight off my mind," Rishe admitted. "Thank you so

much for keeping your promise, Your Highness.

"Er, of course."

"But don't worry, I won't shirk my duties as wedding planner."

Nearly ready to collapse with relief, Rishe returned to her herbs.

***

After the bandit incident, Rishe felt the knights begin to ease a bit in

her presence.

Despite their initial reluctance to accept her help, they continued to report the injured men's progress and bring any concerns directly to her. In return, they took over gathering herbs from the surrounding countryside on their rest stops.

She hadn't done it for gratitude, but she was nonetheless touched.

Gathering medicinal herbs had been second nature ever since her life as an apothecary, and it was foolish to ever turn down loyalty.

To be continued....

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