The wine looks red as blood. It might as well be with all the death that has happened.
Raising the glass to my lips, I slowly take a sip, keeping an eye on him.
His eyes never leave mine, watching me intently as he observe my condition.
I wait.
Nothing.
It's safe.
I hand the wine glass to him, and he slowly looks away, continuing his conversation with his second in command.
Stepping back into the shadows, I wait till his next drink.
And then I feel it: the dizzying sensation, the sick at the pit of my stomach, the beads of sweat.
It was poisoned.
Staggering, I try to alert someone that's it's poisoned. No one notices.
He raises the glass to his lips. The deathly liquid close to his flesh.
Stepping forward I can only do one thing: as I fall to the ground, I smack the glass out of his hand, shattering it in the corner of his marble throne.
"What the hell?" He yells standing up ready to use brute force to his wrath. And then he notices me, gasping for breath on the cold marble floor. Looking from me to the shattered glass, and back to me, he realizes what is going on.
"Get her up and heal her," his muffled voice commands before I fall into a poisoned sleep.
"Who touched the glass before her?" He asks darkly face to face with the whimpering servant.
"Th-the c-cook did, s-sir," he stutters out.
"Bring him to me," he growls sitting back down.
"Y-yes, s-sir," He patters away out of sight.
Five minutes later, the servant returns accompanied by the cook.
The approach the throne, the servant, cowering, and the cook, not happy to be here.
That will change.
"Here he is, sir," the servant states.
"Good," the man on the throne says slyly.
"Were you the one who poisoned my maid?" He asks darkly, leaning forward in his chair.
The cook freezes, then tries to cover up.
"Well, you see, I had two liquids that looked the same, one was good, the other, deadly," he chuckles humorously to himself, "and I thought I had used the good one, when I, whoops, used the other one," he laughs.
The man on the thrones hand is suddenly around the cooks throat.
"You dare to poison one of my own, in an attempt to poison me?" He growls in the mans ear.
"What? I would never do that your majesty, I-i did t even know you had a bitch," he laughs not knowing what danger he's in.
"You dare mock me?"
"No your majesty, I just-,"
"No use, your dead anyway," he says tossing the cook off the steps to his seat.
"Kill him," he orders sitting down making himself comfortable.
Guards on either side of the room come forward, draw their guns and circle him.
Waiting for a move from the king, he flicks his hand giving the command to kill.
They shoot, non stop, bullets puncturing the flesh before him till no cry is made.
The walk backwards and resume their previous position leaving their mess behind, next to the King.
Looking pitifully at the mess, the king stands up and makes his way toward the servant.
"See? That is what will come of you, or any of you," he says gesturing to the others, "if anyone tries to lie or kill me,"
The servant still not knowing his point, cowers away.
"No, now you," the king says pointing to the servant, "will be the new cook, do you have skill?" He asks picking dirt from his fingernails. The servant, now cook, nods furiously saying, "yes, sir, very much sir,"
"Good, good. Get too it." He deadpans. "And doctor?" He questions looking over his shoulder.
The doctor steps out of the shadows and waits his command.
"Go check on "my bitch"," he growls darkly resuming his position on his marble throne.
