A Touch of Poison

Chapter 10

It took nearly an hour for her to get dressed. At first she suspected something had been done to her clothing, because whenever she tried something on, it seemed to hurt. She even found her finely woven silk blouse scratchy and bothersome against her bare skin.

Eventually she descended the stairs of her bedchamber tower, slowly and carefully, her legs trembling almost as badly as a newborn colt's. Once she was safely down the stairs, Gwen made her way to the kitchen and informed the cook in an unsteady voice that she would like her breakfast sent up to her, due to the fact she was feeling sick.

The expression on the cook's face made it clear he required no convincing of this fact. He practically shooed her out of the kitchen with a half-loaf of rye bread and a cup of warm cream and honey, which he assured her would calm her stomach if it was giving her problems.

Grateful for the fact that the cook had neglected to sprinkle either item with any herb, she accepted the proffered food, thanked him wearily, and began the impossibly long journey back to her bedchamber.

Her legs cramped several times as she ascended the stairs to her room, forcing her to stop periodically. By the time she reached her bedroom door, she found herself out of breath and fighting to stay awake. Every part of her just wanted to lie down and rest.

Gwen stumbled inside her room, almost spilling the contents of her cup while attempting to perch it and the rye loaf on a nearby stool. Then, bread and honey-cream forgotten, she fell into her bed. This time, unlike the previous evening, she was asleep the moment her head touched the pillow.

And then her nightmares began anew, though stronger and more vivid than the ones from before. Each new dreamscape that popped into her head provided her with fresh horrors dredged from her imagination, impossible to ignore.

Huge spiders with crowns atop their brow chittered at her from the darkness of a dungeon cell, their mandibles salivating, their legs twitching with eager anticipation. Dire wolves with hollow, bleeding eyes rushed at her from a copse of trees near the apple yard, snarling, and yelping, and frothing black tar from their mouths. Half-remembered toys and comfort dolls from her childhood playroom fell apart or began bleeding at her touch, shrieking for her to stop. Sad, mournful folk regarded her in the labyrinthine hallways of a dark, sinister castle, each of them holding up a mirror that Gwen found herself unable to look into for too long. Her reflections were always corpse-like, or snake-like, or some other foul horror to behold.

In one mirror, she appeared as a likeness of her father.

Her troubled sleep was deep as well, and when the sights and sounds of her night terrors were finally enough to jolt her out of her slumber, it seemed a comparative mercy. She lay there in bed for a long time after, trembling uncontrollably and gasping for breath.

After a while Gwen slowly rose from her bed, her every muscle taut and sore, and she went to the window to try and gauge the time. According to the sun, it was still only mid-morning.

One full day down, four to go.

When she opened her bedroom door, Gwen discovered that a more substantial plate of breakfast had been left outside of it. There were poached eggs, a thick slice of ham, and a small wedge of yellow cheese, each of which had been dutifully covered with a small sprinkling of a familiar blue-green herb.

She stood at her open door for a long, long time staring at the plate and its contents. Just the thought of being that close to the stuff stirred feelings of anxiety and dread. It felt to her as though getting too near her plate would result in her being unable to control herself.

It was nearly five full minutes before she mustered up the courage to kick the plate and its contents over, sending them tumbling down into the darkness of the stairwell. Almost immediately she regretted her decision, since word of what she'd done might get back to her father, and she didn't wish him to become suspicious during her ordeal.