The Traitor

Nola ordered the maid, turning her nose away from the soiled linens and a waste pan in the woman’s arms.
The door swung open. Golden light poured around Regent Maxwell as he stood in the frame. “Your Majesty, Queen Nola. May I have a word?” He bowed in the asking, cutting his eyes to the guards at the door while moving to hasten the maid’s exit.
Nola motioned him inside and grabbed a glass of wine that lay in wait on a nearby table. “Enter, Regent Maxwell, but leave the door open.”
She did not care what the maid or guards thought of her, allowing this man into her chambers, but she needed to control the rumors and lies whispered about the palace. All necessary gossip needed to circle focus on Kai, not her exploits.
“Why do you bother me, Maxwell?” She strolled to the balcony and pushed the doors wide. A cool breeze blew fresh air into the stale room. “Could this not wait till tomorrow?” she said with disregard, loud enough for the guards leaning into the doorway.
“Your Majesty, I humbly beg your forgiveness for the intrusion,” Maxwell responded, staying near the door, “but you wanted to be informed when the Dragaron returned from collecting taxes. They are unloading now; my men are escorting the payment to the vault as we speak.”
Nola turned away, using her back to conceal her actions, and poured a few drops of liquid from a vial she kept hidden in her gown pocket. She watched the orange substance blend with the wine as she gently swirled the cup.
I must keep him pliable, she reminded herself.
Every step she took was necessary, and the Regent was a pawn to ensure her future. To keep him under her influence, she needed to refresh her hypnotism over the man. Wine and sinder root made everyone pliable. Even those with a strong will, of which Maxwell was not.
Taking in a deep breath, she steeled herself for the Regent’s grubby fingers and aggressive behavior. With a turn and a nod, she motioned Maxwell to join her on the balcony. She hated this man as much as every other man she had ever met. To her, men only cared for or respected wealth and power. For now, Diu concealed Maxwell’s debts and bad habits, which gave her the upper hand. There was no benefit to her in relinquishing her position.
She watched Maxwell eye the sleeping king. Hatred narrowed the man’s gaze, and his hand unconsciously clenched his sword. The click of his boots as he left the carpeted chamber and crossed the stone balcony brought a sly smile to her face. “What brings you to my door, Maxwell?” She pretended to sip the wine. “The ship arrived hours ago; we watched the guards from my council chambers. Don’t tell me you could not spend another moment apart.” She batted her eyelashes and tossed him a look.
Maxwell eased in close. The man’s breath smelled of ale and his beard of tobacco. His eyes shifted to parts of her where they did not belong. She knew what he wanted, and she hated him for it. There was no love between them, but his desires allowed her to get close. Up close, her skills could manipulate any man, given the right incentive—and a potion if necessary.
“My dear,” Maxwell whispered, getting closer, “you are divine in that gown. Why do you deny me the privacy to take advantage of you?”
No, there was no love left in her heart. The only man she ever loved was her father, and Iver killed him. Maxwell was only a pawn in a grander scheme to restore her family to the throne of Milnos and exact revenge on the Galloway family line. “Oh, Maxwell.” She fiddled with his decorative medals. “You know you cannot come to the King’s chambers. What would the lords and ladies of the land say?”
“You know I don’t care about your reputation, my dear.” Maxwell grabbed her neck with his thick fingers. He spoke quietly so no one would hear. “I grow weary, waiting for that man to die. I am a patient man, but why don't you kill him already?”
His touch made her skin crawl, but she kept her eyes delightfully locked on his. Hidden in her bosom, she felt the dark crystal against her skin. Her mother’s stone ebbed with power; she had used it too much today. Still, she pulled at the magic, begging it to control this man. His eyes fell blank, and she offered him her cup. “Drink, Maxwell.”
Maxwell downed the entire cup. Nola chuckled at the weak-minded man in front of her. The remnants of her influence mixed with new suggestions that forced him to comply. Thankful that the stone did her bidding, she whispered to the man under her spell. The sinder root allowed her to squelch the passionate nature bubbling inside the man for a time, leaving him feeling satisfied and remembering whatever she told him to believe. But the root was only a momentary solution, for she knew a buildup of the herb would cause an immunity to its influence, forcing her to resort to mixing potent herbs, which always lead to sickness, as it had with Iver.
Over Maxwell’s shoulders, Nola heard men talking near the chamber door. Their loud noises drew her inside, and she pulled the Regent along, ordering him to retire for the night.
“Your Majesty, Queen Nola,” one guard stepped to the side to let the Regent exit. “As you requested, we wish to inform you that Prince Kai is returning from his stroll in the palace gardens. The maid informed me his evening meal would be delivered to his room per your instructions.”
Nola felt drained, but exhaustion was not an option. The time was now. Tonight, she needed to activate her plan. She was tired of waiting. “Thank you,” she nodded and closed her door.
When Nola