The Husband Poisoning Society, Chapter Forty-Six: Running out of Options

The sheriff and his secretaries led the three of us back into the cell. They removed our manacles. And then they headed back to the door leading out of the prison.

I stared across the corridor at Vincent and Leon. Vincent still slept. Leon tossed and turned, not quite awake. We didn’t have much time. The women, finished with their duties patting us down, departed. I have no idea where viking secretaries spent their time. The sheriff was alone. We could overpower one man. I stared at the lock. I should have thought of that before they marched us back to our cell. 

Still. I could try to convince him. Leon needed that cure.

“My lord sheriff,” I called from the cell. “The potion you took from me. It is a cure for our duke. Will you let us feed it to him? Or would you give him the cure yourself? Please.”

The sheriff shook his head. “I’m not administering an unknown potion to an enemy on the say so of three witches.”

“What are you afraid the potion will do?” I asked.

“Empower him and render him able to tear the cell door off its hinges? Let him breathe fire and kill me? The mind rebels at the possibilities.”

I grimaced. He wasn’t wrong. 

“Do you have any personnel that can object read?”

A psychometrist, like Amy could confirm the purpose of the potion in a heartbeat. Not that they would believe Amy’s reading. But if they have a guard able to object read, we might have a chance. 

“I’m not telling you that. You’re enemies of the empire.”

“He’s going to die!” I snarled.

“Most likely. Not within my authority, I’m afraid. Above my pay grade.” 

I hammered a fist against the bars of the cell. “Damn. Let us save him!”

“That isn’t happening.” The sheriff said. 

I paced the cell for several minutes. Two new male guards arrived and saluted the sheriff. The sheriff sat down and brought out a deck of tarot cards. He and one of the guards began playing a card game I didn’t recognize. The second guard waved off joining the game and then walked to our cell.

He leered at us through the bars.

“Well. Three highborn ladies, what trouble have you managed to get into?”

“Burn down a church. Killed an immortal. Killed a trained giant. You?” I answered. 

“Got called out in the middle of the night for guard duty. Not my favorite thing, a late night call out. But I’m looking at you three highborn ladies and thinking that this may be my lucky night.”

“Technically, I’m a lowborn lady.” Amy said, raising her hand as she spoke. 

“Well I’ll save you for last then.” The guard said. 

Fiona stepped forward. “If you want highborn, you want me. My mother was a princess. Come and get me.”

Fiona can read auras, and can use it to gauge people’s motives. I didn’t need to be able to read auras to know what Fiona had planned. I waited for the guard to see through Fiona’s ruse. Instead he stepped forward and licked his lips. The guard eyed Fiona’s open poet’s shirt. 

“You like it when the boys look, huh?” He said. 

Fiona shook her head. “I like it when the men look. Men and women. No boys. No girls. I am interested in adults.”

“I’m an adult.” The guard said.

“Your aura says otherwise. A six year old in Ys has more emotional development than you.”

“I’ll show you an adult.” He said. He reached out and tore Fiona’s shirt open, revealing her naked bust. As he did, Fiona swung a kick up soccer style into the guard’s groin. The guard gasped and crumpled to his knees. Fiona grabbed the man’s head with both hands. She drove her knee into the man’s face. The guard dropped like a sack of yogurt. 

Fiona bolted through the cell door. The sheriff and the remaining guard began rising from their chairs. Fiona pushed herself into a sprint. The guard drew a long sword. Fiona grabbed the guard’s sword hand and hammered a fist into the guard’s shoulder. The guard dropped the sword and Fiona caught the blade and kept moving. She arced the sword up, slicing through the guard’s sword arm. Then a second swung beheaded the guard.

“Move and his grace dies.”

Fiona stopped moving. And all of us turned to see the sheriff with a matchlock pistol to Leon’s head. 

“Take the manacles and put them on.” The sheriff continued. “Then lock yourself into the cell. Any false moves and the duke dies.”

Fiona slumped. She trudged to the table and locked herself back into the manacles. She clicked the iron bands onto her wrists. Then she stumbled back to the cell. I closed the door to the cell behind Fiona as she entered. The door locked as it clicked shut. 

Fiona collapsed onto the cot and lay on her side, silent. 

“Now what?” Amy said. 

“I don't know what to do,” Fiona said. “I have never not known what to do. There is no way out of this."

Amy and I moved to comfort her, and I recognized this as a moment from my vision. 

“Dearest,” Amy said, hugging Fiona. “We are not done. Lynn has a plan. You trust Lynn, yes? We are a distraction. We have to hold on. You can do that, can’t you?”

“I do not know how to manage this feeling of helplessness.”

My mind raced. I grabbed Fiona’s hand. “You aren’t helpless. You are waiting. We are in a war. And this is our position on the front line.”

Fiona rolled to face away from Amy and myself. I looked at Amy. Her eyes were wide. I nodded. I had never seen Fiona like this either. And even knowing it was coming, this behavior was terrifying. 

But Amy was right. We had to trust Lynn. But what could she do? And we still had to get Leon the cure. But this sheriff was sharp. And we weren’t getting past him. I sat in quiet despair.