Honorable Mention
Clinks of one pair of silverware accompanied the silence of the dining hall and the cracks of wood from the fireplace. Prince Slyarin’s outline guzzled the fish course down. Even though the flames were across the hall, sweat beads ran down my forehead. All decorum said to let them run.
“Leon,” Prince Slyarin’s voice worked around the halibut he was working on.
I swallowed any moisture that was left in my throat and approached the table. All of the spices and meats from the previous course that sat uneaten further down the table made the heat a little bearable. “Yes, your grace?”
“Any word from the guard?”
“Not yet, your grace.”
He grumbled something into his wine glass. “I had hoped we would have heard something from Elvern Castle by now.”
“Yes, your grace.” Any explanation would fall on deaf ears or to egotistical accusations from the prince.
Prince Slyarin raised his voice to address the other servants that flanked the dining hall. “And I had hoped to dine with better company than myself. A pity to waste all this food. Leon, make sure my pack eats well tonight.”
“Yes, your grace.” I nodded and melted back to the wall.
Prince Slyarin stood and started picking at the invisible guests’ plates. “I’ll be in my chambers if anyone decides to show up.” I and the rest of the staff bowed.
The dining hall doors burst open before the prince. A half-drowned messenger came in with a servant trailing his heels.
“Prince Slyarin?”
He looked at the messenger in disgust. “My staff bow before addressing me.”
“From Queen Demitris of House Doune.” The messenger tried to pass a canister to Prince Slyarin.
The prince purposely let it fall. I picked it up for him. Before I could thank the messenger, they had left.
The silver canister looked like it could fit a bottle of wine. Elvern Castle’s signature vines were etched into the metal, surrounding House Doune’s crest. I twisted off the lid to find a note tied to a stunning, blood-red peony. A petal fell to my feet as I examined it. The note read:
Forgive the absence, Slyarin. I don’t dine with those who starve their household. Enjoy the sweet scent of this peony. Hope it makes you see things differently in this world.
“Give me this.” Prince Slyarin snatched the flower from me. “A flower? That’s what the Queen sends as an apology.” He let the flower fall and smashed his boot into the petals.
Red smoke rose from the peony. I started choking for air, but there wasn’t any. Tears streamed down my eyes as I tried to find Prince Slyarin. The rest of the staff were either running for the door or coughing. I groped around me, finding Prince Slyarin on the floor. Blood came out of his nose and mouth with his brown eyes wide in surprise with a hint of smugness. As if a flower couldn’t kill a prince.
E. A. Cunningham 