How to Poison Your Husband || ONC 2024

Step 5b: ...learn some self-defense...

Ivelle had two people to train now. 

Unfortunately, neither of them bore an ounce of aptitude for physical activity.

At least Lillian was a more enthusiastic learner than Prince Eirifold. She might have terrible aim, but she was so gung-ho during her practice sessions, she became something of a hazard to the male members of her staff who'd volunteered to help.

"Gyaaaah!"

"S-sorry, Alfred."

"That's all right," Alfred wheezed. "You gave me the safety potion pre-emptively, which minimizes the damage, and it's not like these eighty-year-old balls are getting much action anyway. But um... I think I'm going to go grab some tea now. If you'll excuse me."

He hobbled away.

"Oh dear," Ivelle said.

"Don't worry," said Lillian, although she sounded a bit doubtful. "The safety potion I gave him before we started practicing is very good. I got it last year from a witch in town who really knows her stuff."

A prickle of suspicion crept up Ivelle's spine. Sometimes, it seemed as though Lillian was a little too fascinated with potions.

(Not that Ivelle was really one to talk).

"Did the witch give you anything besides the safety potion?" she asked, before she could stop herself.

"Oh no, just that one! I... well... I rather needed it at the time." Lillian's voice dipped slightly. "I mean it seemed super useful. You can bash your head into a wall and come away with barely a scratch. I was—" Her voice trembled. "—worried for my safety at one point, so I tested it out a little bit."

Ivelle squeezed Lillian's shoulder.

"But now I have your self-defense moves, so I won't need to worry about carrying around a safety potion at all times!" Lillian beamed. "Every time I practice them, I imagine King Gorlin's horrible face."

Ivelle's brow furrowed. "Sounds like maybe the king deserves to be poisoned even more than Prince Eirifold."

She eyed Lillian, trying to gauge her reaction, and was disappointed when Lillian gave a noncommittal shrug.

"Maybe."

"Do you think Eirifold is as bad as his father?"

"People don't need to be violent to be evil," said Lillian in a low voice. "Sometimes inaction can be just as bad."

"What did he—"

"Sorry, Ivelle. I have to go to a tea party in a few minutes. We'll talk about this later, okay?"

~*~

Long after the self-defense lesson was over, Lillian's words still rang in Ivelle's ears.

She confronted Eirifold about the matter during their nightly training session. This turned out to be about as useful as the Estrellan daily newspaper—which was to say, not very.

"Inaction?" Eirifold laughed (although it turned into more of a pained wheeze as Ivelle gestured for him to lift the weights she'd laid out in front of him). "Inaction is basically my middle name."

"Was there a specific incident though?" Ivelle pressed. "Something you did that would've tipped Lillian over the edge into hating you?"

"Maybe? Who knows?"

"So... you have absolutely no idea why Lillian thinks you're a loser?"

"You"–huff–"already"–gasp–"know"–wheeze–"I was probably"–huff–"too drunk to remember if there was some specific incident." Eirifold collapsed to the ground, sucking in great gulps of air. "As for being a loser in general, I could definitely see why she would think that. I haven't given her any reason to think otherwise."