The Conspirators of Krasnovska

1. One Fell Swoop

At last, she reached the door. One of the three Galwyinans escorting the queen drew her sword at the sight of her, holding it aloft as if ready to mince anyone who dared to come any closer. The woman's green eyes flashed an all-too-clear warning: one more step and you're dead.

"Put it down, Síobahn." The Crown Princess-of-approximately-ten-minutes gave the hotheaded attendant a sharp look. The attendant (Síobahn, the Princess had called her) reluctantly allowed her to pass, but Polina soon realized she would rather not have been let through. She nearly tripped over something on the stairs and looked down to see the King of Dosinskiya crumpled on the stairs, blood seeping through his gold tunic, clearly near death. He blinked wordlessly at Polina, as if trying to register who she was.

She sucked in a ragged breath, She should have warned them. She could have stopped this. And she knew she could not do what Dmitri would surely ask of her.

Dmitri turned to her with a grave expression. "Polina, you know more of medicine than anyone here. You must-"

"I am gravely sorry, My Lord, but I do not know how to treat a wound of this severity. You cannot mean that...there is nobody here more qualified to attend to this than I?"

Dmitri's face was ashen. "No. The guards are not trained in medicine, and most all of the guests-" he gestured around the room-"are useless nobles. You are his only hope of survival. Please, Polina! You must!"

Polina choked on an upwelling sob. "I lack the skill, but nevertheless, I will try," she mumbled. Her hands were trembling as she knelt beside the King. She gingerly lifted the edge of his tunic to inspect the wound. She barely noticed Dmitri drop to his knees beside her.

"What do you say? Is there anything you can do to treat this wound?" He asked, out of breath.

"It is as I feared," she told him. "The assassin's knife went too deep. It is not to the heart, but it is nonetheless a vulnerable spot, and he is losing blood quickly. I have no evidence to contradict that this wound is mortal." It was clear to anyone with training that this was a carefully-plotted strike. The assassin could not have hit a spot this convenient without a thorough knowledge of anatomy.

"Please, Polina," he cried. "You have to do something!"

Polina bit back a bitter sob. His pleas could do nothing. She knew this wound was beyond healing, let alone by a half-trained teenager. She lacked the skill to bring him back from the brink of death.

"I would do anything possible to save your father's life, if there were anything I could do, I swear to it." She held back tears. "But there is...there is nothing I could do to save him now." She released the sob she had been suppressing. Dmitri's despairing look caused her to choke out another hysterical sob. The King's eyes shifted to her.

"Lady Polina," he croaked. Dmitri's eyes widened.

"Yes, My Lord."

"I...understand," he rasped. "You...have limits. Dmitri, you...must not...expect...too much of her. She is only a child." This was probably meant to be reassuring, but Dmitri's stricken expression only intensified. "Aislinn..."

The Princess turned to face him. "Yes, My Lord?"

"Make sure...he does not make rash decisions. He will make...enemies of half the continent...if he is not held in check."

She bent to look him in the eye. "That I will, My Lord," she promised. "I will see to it Dmitri becomes a better king than you were."

"Aislinn!" One of her attendants screeched.

The King smiled. "I know, dear Lady," he sighed. "I was anything but an ideal king, but I trust Dmitri will undo my errors. You must see to it that he does."

"He will, My Lord. Mark my words." Aislinn smiled sadly.

"I...think I might be staining the carpet. You should have the guards move me." He raggedly inhaled, as if speaking taxed him beyond recovery.

Polina knew that it really did. He let the breath out with no small effort and then it ceased. Dmitri mumbled something, dropping his head in despair. Aislinn laid a hand on his shoulder.

A guest nearby muttered something about the misfortune of losing your father at your wedding and dabbed at her eyes with a handkerchief. All an act, Polina thought sourly. Mourning for someone they've known for all of two days! She had never been particularly fond of the King, a gruff man who was always blundering into misguided trade deals and foreign alliances, but Dmitri's total despair was enough to reduce her to tears. She knew the feeling of losing a parent. She knew for a fact that the guest hadn't the slightest inkling what that felt like. She shot her a dirty look.

One of the queen's escorts, a disheveled teenager, noticed the look glanced at her with a concerned are-you-all-right expression. Polina shook her head, trying to keep her face low to hide the tears streaming down her cheeks. By now she looked like death; the white sleeves of her gown were now stained with blood, her hair had fallen down, and her face was, she was sure, all too telling. Meeting someone (possibly important) like that was unideal, but her attention was turned to other matters - namely, locating her sister, which did not take long.

"Polya!" Lara shouted, shoving through the crowd. She knew her sister well enough to predict her next question and made her way through the crowd to answer before she could ask it.

"Come with me. I will tell you in private." She grabbed her sister's arm and dragged her into a deserted hall.

"Dmitri?" Lara asked, clearly not eager to know the answer.

"No, Lara. Worse."

Lara's eyes widened. "If not Dmitri-"

Polina's eyes dropped to her feet. "The King has died."

Hard as she tried not to let it show, Lara's face relaxed. Neither of them had been close to the King; at very least, none of their friends had died. But...

"Dmitri will become King, then," Lara thought aloud. "What awful timing."

"They asked me to save him, and I did not know what to do," Polina blurted out.

Lara pressed her eyes closed and shook her head in disbelief. "They asked you to save a man dying of a stab wound? And actually expected you to do it?"

"Your faith in me is quite reassuring," Polina snapped.

"It is not that, Polya. Just...there was nobody more qualified to help him than a half-trained orphan? What kind of imbecilic planning was that?" Lara snapped. "Do not think for a second that you have failed anyone, Polya. It was never yours to fail."

Lara's words did little to reassure her, but it was something.