This was so unlike her. She was never ill. A wave of loneliness swept over her, and she suddenly missed her mother very badly. She wrapped her hand around the black stone pendant her mother had given her. Each of her sisters had a similar one cut from the same stone, which their mother claimed had magical protective powers. Whether it did or not, holding the pendant made Sybil feel closer to her mother and sisters. She drifted off to sleep with it clutched in her hand.
When she awoke, she felt somewhat better. She had slept like the dead. She sat up and saw a tray of food and a flask of wine on the side table. Her host must have asked a servant to bring it while she was asleep.
Her throat was parched, and she was starving. Because she was still a bit lightheaded, she took care as she eased herself to the edge of the bed to reach the tray.
She was so thirsty. She poured herself a cup of the watered wine, but something made her stop. While she tried to bring forward the wisp of the dream she’d had before waking, her hand went to her pendant. She stroked the smooth stone with her finger.
The dream was more of a memory, something from her mother’s tale about the stone. Her mother had seen a mysterious old woman appear out of the mist. Was that it? Nay. Suddenly it came to her.
Poison.
Her mother’s three sisters were poisoned. While her mother walked along the river and met the old woman who gave her the black onyx, her sisters consumed poison with their breakfast. They were dead by nightfall.
Sybil sniffed the plum wine and the honeyed pear with cinnamon. Both had sweet, strong flavors that could disguise a poison. She thought Lovat had instructed his cook to use a heavy hand with the cinnamon, an expensive spice, to flaunt Lovat’s wealth. After the first evening when she remarked on how delicious the spiced pears were, Lovat had instructed that a bowl of it be brought to her at every meal.
She had thought it a kindness. And he’d meant to kill her.
CHAPTER 24
Sybil had not spent years around court intrigues to let this threat go unanswered. Lovat had gotten the better of her once. He would not succeed again. Now that she knew his scheme, she would teach him a lesson.
But first, she needed sustenance. Fueled by pure determination, she made her way down to the kitchen in the undercroft. Like all castle kitchens, it was busy with servants chopping leeks, turning spits, and scrubbing pots. When she entered, all activity stopped.
“Go on with your work,” she said with a smile. “I don’t mean to interrupt, but I found I’m too famished to wait for supper.”
“Ye needn’t have come here yourself, m’lady. I’ll send someone to your chamber with whatever ye wish.” The man who spoke stood at the center of a long worktable with a brace of pheasants beside him and a large cleaver in his hand. He appeared to be in charge of the kitchen.
“No need to send it up when I’m already here,” she said, and pulled up a stool. “Is that venison stew I smell? I’ll have some of that, if ye please.”
“But—”
“I’m a bit homesick, and that smells like the stew our cook used to make,” she said, turning her charm on. “When I was a wee girl, I was always sneaking down into the kitchen. I loved the smells and the bustle, and the servants spoiled me with sweet buns and such.”
A middle-aged woman in a kerchief took a bowl from the open shelf, spooned a hefty scoop of the stew into it from the huge steaming pot that hung over the fire, and set the bowl on the worktable in front of Sybil.
“There ye are, dear,” the woman said with a kindly smile. “And here’s a nice big cup of ale to wash it down.”
“Thank ye kindly,” Sybil said, and dug in.
There was no chance that a bowl from the common pot would have poison in it.
“’Tis nearly time for supper,” the cook said between vicious whacks on a head of cabbage with his cleaver. “Ye don’t want to eat too much and spoil your appetite.”
“Don’t fret about me,” she said. “I expect to thoroughly enjoy the meal tonight.”
***
Every person has a weakness, and Lovat’s was his eldest son. Alain was a cocky young man about Sybil’s age. Up until now, she had avoided him as much as she could because of his unseemly fascination with her breasts.
Tonight, however, she waited in the stairwell for him.
She was playing a dangerous game, but she had to take drastic measures or she would have to worry about being poisoned by Lovat or his surrogates for as long as she lived in the Highlands—or at least until Rory set her aside.
Of course, she could take all her meals in the kitchen and tell Rory when he arrived, but he would not handle the problem with the necessary pragmatism. At worst, he would run his blade through his uncle; at best, he would refuse to accept Lovat’s support. She needed to handle this on her own. The tricky part was teaching Lovat that he threatened her at his peril without jeopardizing his support for Rory.
She stayed hidden until Alain entered the hall with two of his companions and timed her own entrance to cross paths with his. Alain bowed and remained bent over her hand with his gaze fixed on her chest until he finally remembered to straighten.
“We’ve had great success hunting this afternoon,” he said.