A Touch of Poison

Chapter 19

Gwen entered the throne room, which prompted an unexpected trumpet fanfare to play from somewhere she couldn't see. Uncomfortably aware that all eyes were upon her, she walked forward slowly and deliberately with her handmaidens, barely looking around at anyone. Instead, she focused on the decorations. Under the circumstances, it wasn't all that difficult to do.

The throne room was utterly transformed, even more so than the garden or hallways had been. Vibrant silk streamers of all colours criss-crossed along the ceiling above her, producing a pattern that undulated and shifted as you moved across the floor, appearing completely different depending on where you stood. Ornate tables and chairs had been set up everywhere you looked, and every table had at least a dozen people sitting at it. Deep red satin bunting lined the walls, framing brand new torches and lamps in expensive-looking silver wall mounts, the sheer quantity of which were illuminating the room more brightly than she'd thought possible.

Gone were the severe, dark wooden panels and archaic tapestries, as well as all the other decorations she knew her father preferred.

There was a large banquet table set up where the throne usually sat, right in front of the newly whitewashed stone wall. Her father and King Alwyn were both sitting at the table, as were several other people she didn't recognize. Given the empty seat beside her father, it wasn't hard for Gwen to figure out where she was supposed to go.

Many of the several hundred assembled guests murmured to one another as she made her way to the other side of the room. She couldn't actually make out any snippets of whispered conversation, so she had no idea if they were discussing her beautiful dress, how lovely she looked in it, or how unfair it was that someone as undeserving as Gwen was about to marry the well-liked and charming Prince Gavin, who even now was–

Gwen blinked, and for a moment her steps faltered slightly.

Prince Gavin wasn't in the room.

In the stories she'd read that had weddings, the bride was usually the last to enter. That was pretty standard, wasn't it? And yet, the chair sitting next to King Alwyn was conspicuously empty.

Perhaps she wasn't getting married today. Might Gavin have followed his heart after all, and fled the castle before they were to be wed? Or perhaps he'd left because of the various things he'd heard about Gwen? He was no stranger to most of the castle guards and other servants, after all, and had spent countless hours talking and laughing and visiting with them during his attempts to avoid her this past week. Maybe he'd been told something about her he didn't care for.

Oh, wouldn't that be perfect – her father's plans foiled by the very rumours Anifail had been spreading about her. The very thought of it actually caused the barest trace of a smile to find its way to Gwen's lips.

She continued on towards the main banquet table, the train of her dress sweeping the floor behind her as she made her way to her seat. Idly, she began to wonder how she'd even be expected to sit while wearing this awkward, detestable gown of hers. However, once she arrived at her spot she saw that a small bench had been arranged for her rather than one of the high-backed chairs on which her father and King Alwyn sat.

Gwen sat down in her seat, facing the assembled crowd, and she quickly checked it for familiar faces. Almost immediately she noticed Anifail and Rhosyn had been seated at the closest table, not twenty feet away from her.

Anifail smiled and nodded when he saw he'd caught her attention, and he raised a silver goblet towards her with a nod. Rhosyn did nothing, and merely sat beside him, staring through the table.

Choosing to ignore his presence, Gwen turned her attention away from Anifail's table and scanned the rest of the room. She noticed an altar that had been set up on a dais in the corner opposite of where she was sitting. It was being tended to by an ancient-looking vicar in red and silver robes, whose few remaining wisps of silver hair had been lightly oiled and plastered against his balding pate for the occasion. On the altar were two crystals, one of which she recognized as hers. The other, much larger crystal was Gavin's, obviously.