Javier's POV
"My lord, the royal physician seeks your audience," my head advisor announced, and I opened my eyes, casting a glance at the throne room doors.
"And did he not say why?" I inquired, my grip tightening on the arm of the chair. A chill spread throughout my body, and as I looked down, I saw ice slowly creeping along the armrest, a physical manifestation of my mounting ire.
I released my hand, and the ice began to melt as my grip relaxed.
"He did not, Your Majesty."
"Then admit him," I commanded calmly, closing my eyes once more. How I loathed being disturbed in my moments of rest, only to be awakened by affairs from which I could not escape.
Soon enough, the heavy doors creaked open, followed by the sound of footsteps drawing nearer. They halted, and I opened my eyes, meeting the physician's bowed head.
"What is it you seek?"
"Your Majesty," he began, his voice hesitant. "Might I request a private audience?" His eyes darted nervously toward my advisors, the servants, and the guards scattered throughout the room.
"Begone," I commanded.
He turned to leave.
"Not you, physician." He halted and turned back as the others departed, the door slamming shut behind them, leaving us alone in the chamber.
"Speak," I ordered coldly.
"Ah, yes," he stammered, fumbling through his satchel. He produced a small vial, presenting it to me with trembling hands.
"My lord, I have at last uncovered the cause of the queen's fainting spell from weeks past," he said, his voice laced with trepidation. I regarded the vial with a detached expression, my face betraying no emotion.
"What is it?"
"My lord, the queen was poisoned. A miracle she survived—I cannot fathom how. This is the deadliest poison known in the kingdom. It shows no symptoms but slowly shuts down the body from within." His voice grew strained, and his countenance turned as pale as the liquid within the vial.
Poison. Someone had sought to assassinate the queen during our journey, and that fainting spell had been but a failed attempt on her life.
"Is it this poison that has driven her to lose herself? To lose her mind?" My words hung heavily in the air, sharper than I intended.
The physician faltered. "Um… my lord, the queen is…"
He trailed off beneath my gaze, well aware that he should not dare suggest the queen was well—she was clearly deranged, her behavior wholly unbefitting of her station.
He shook his head. "There have been no signs that this poison affects the mind—only the body. It kills slowly, but it does not alter one's nature. I do not believe this is the cause of the queen's… behavior."
I rose suddenly from the throne, the movement so swift that the physician took a nervous step back. His body trembled under the force of my presence as I unsheathed my sword.
"Pause that thought, physician. I have other matters to attend to," I said, my voice cold as I strode past him.
"Y-Yes, my lord." His voice quivered as he watched me depart.
I thrust open the great throne room doors and turned to my head guard. "Summon all who serve the queen—every last one. Even those who serve her indirectly, those whose duties touch upon hers. All of them."
The head guard bowed and rushed off without a moment's hesitation.
As I made my way down the hall, one of the advisors spoke, his voice wavering with uncertainty. "My lord, what has caused your ire? Why—"
Before he could finish, my sword flashed. The sharp edge cleaved through his throat, blood spurting forth as he crumpled to the floor, clutching at his neck in a futile attempt to staunch the flow.
"Does anyone else have aught to say?" I inquired, my voice as cold as the grave.
The body hit the floor with a heavy thud, and a chorus of "No, my lord" echoed through the chamber.
I turned and made my way toward the courtyard, my footsteps resounding through the hall. As I passed, the flowers behind me withered, their vibrant hues draining away, devoured by the chill that clung to me. A shadow of darkness trailed in my wake, a constant reminder of how my powers were slipping beyond my grasp.
"Get those changed," I commanded curtly.
"Yes, my lord," came the immediate reply, and the withered plants were swiftly replaced.
I reached the courtyard, where all those who had ever served the queen knelt before me, trembling in fear. Some still arrived, and all of them shook beneath the weight of my presence.
I stood at the threshold, the cold around me palpable, as though a storm were brewing just beneath the surface. With each step further into the courtyard, the air grew colder still, and the flowers around me withered to the ground, their petals falling like fragile snowflakes. It was not intentional, but I could no longer suppress it—the power within me was becoming ever harder to control. The more I fought it, the fiercer it raged against me.
"Raise your heads," I commanded, my voice biting and unyielding.
They hesitated for a moment, then slowly, cautiously, lifted their eyes to meet mine.
"What know you?" I demanded, my voice dripping with venom. "Of the queen's condition? Of the poison?"
A servant spoke first, her hands trembling so violently that I could see the tremors from where I stood. "My lord, we… we know naught of the poison. We have only seen what she has become—strange behavior, outbursts. But we never… we never thought it could be so dire as this."
As she finished, my sword moved with blinding speed, slicing through her throat with a clean stroke. She gasped, blood splattering my clothes as she crumpled to the ground, dying before another word could pass her lips.
I did not blink.
The yard filled with horrified gasps as they watched her fall lifeless to the ground.
"I shall not ask again," I warned, my voice cold and final.
One of the servants crawled toward me, hands clasped together in desperate supplication. "My lord, I… I was not there that day to serve the queen. My mother was ill, and I took leave from Lady Teresa. I know naught."
I bent down slowly, removing my glove and grasping her trembling jaw with my bare hand. A smile tugged at my lips, though it bore no warmth. "Your mother?" I repeated, my voice a low growl.
I watched with cold satisfaction as ice crept across her face, her skin paling as the frost spread over her cheeks. Her eyes widened in terror, her body shaking under the biting cold.
"Your mother," I repeated, my tone menacing, "is she of more import than your loyalty to the queen?"
The servant's breath caught as the ice reached her lips, freezing her words in place. She trembled, unable to speak, but the fear was plain in her eyes. I could feel the frost tightening around her, slowly transforming her into a statue of ice. Yet, I held her gaze, relishing the control I held over her life.
Then I released her, and she gasped for air. I moved away from her and approached the next servant. "Did you serve the queen on the day of the coronation?"
She nodded and opened her mouth to speak, but I had heard enough. I sliced her throat open, watching as blood poured from the wound, her life draining from her eyes.