To Bewitch a Devil

224 Bowl of plans

The knock came, and Neera ordered the maid in. Two trays of full meals of several options were brought in by two of them, and they were set on the bed.

“Why did you decide to stay in today?” Zavian asked, using a knife to butter his bread.

“I need us to spend more time together, away from all the noise of the world,” Neera said. “I am trying to connect with you.”

That seemed to please him. “We are already connected, Neera. But if you want to reconnect, and for both of us to get to know each other all over again, I would love to do that by taking things slowly, one day at a time.”

She eyed the hot bowl of porridge before him. If she could just get him out of the room for just one second…

She tilted her head to give him a good show of the dress and the skin she had bared out for him.

“So, what do you think about the dress I picked for this morning?” She asked.

She saw the way his eyes dropped down her body and climbed back up, his food forgotten. He tore away his gaze and closed his eyes for a brief moment.

“Is everything okay?” She asked him.

.....

“Yes,” his voice was gruff. “I just… I am trying to stick to remembering to take things slow.”

Neera quickly hung her smile like it was wet laundry, pegging it in place consciously. At least, that seemed like the normal reaction to a statement like that.

“I understand,” Neera said. “Could you please see if that bird hasn’t flown too far away? I want it to see you and come to you. It looked like it was afraid of me.”

Zavian dropped the bread, and his eyes pinned to her body again just before he stood. When he left for the window, Neera acted fast. She poured three drops of the liquid into the meal, and deciding she could hurry with the process, she added several more drops she didn’t count. She needed him asleep fast, so she had the time to take his blood quickly.

“It’s not out here,” Zavian was still looking outside. He brought his head back in and climbed into the bed. “I’ll leave out some breadcrumbs for it. It would surely come.”

“Thank you,” she said. She reached for her own bowl of porridge and stirred it. She was about to take a spoon into her mouth when there was pounding on the door, not too loud, but urgent and hurried.

“What do you want?” Zavian asked, not appreciating the disturbance.

“There is something wrong with the breakfast, your Majesty.” The feminine voice of the maid rang from behind the door.

Neera widened her eyes in alarm. How could they know? No, it was impossible. No one had seen her unless Lydia had decided to play games with her tardiness to deliver and expose the plan through some other mirror in the house.

“Come in,” Zavian said, holding a palm so Neera won’t eat the porridge-filled spoon in her hand.

The maid bustled in and gave a gasp at the bowl in Neera’s hands.

“Don’t have the porridges!” The maid cried in alarm. “Please, don’t tell me you have, your Majesty.”

Now Neera was sure Lydia had exposed her.

“No one has had the porridges. Now tell us what’s wrong.”

“The cook made a wonderful meal, you see. But the maid that put this on the tray didn’t know that the cook had already mixed the sugar in after it was served,” the maid rambled on. “And, oh dear, another maid added more sugar to it, but only to realize she added salt.”

The maid rushed forward and lifted both bowls of porridge.

“We would mix this in with a new batch to balance out the salt, your Majesty. The maids are bringing up caramels as I speak,” she said. “Please forgive the mistake, my Queen, my King.”

“It is a good thing they came right in time,” Zavian said, looking at Neera.

“Yes,” Neera agreed, her reply dry. “Very good, indeed.”

The maid poured out apologies as she packed the bowls, and Neera clenched the spoon in her hand, stopping herself from striking her for such silliness. As she packed up Zavian’s bowl, she watched the little bowl of plans and wishes disappear out of the room.

“Do you have anything else planned?” Zavian asked later on as he scooped the caramels.

“No,” Neera answered, toying around with her own meal, her appetite dead. “You make the plans.”

And so he did. He made some plans centered around after some meetings, and to be honest, Neera didn’t catch any of it. She couldn’t devise any other scheme to get his blood, and it was proving harder every time.

So when noon came, and Neera stepped out, she passed by a handful of maids and guards laying recumbent in different parts of the palace. That dosage she had put in the porridge would knock a human out in some minutes, but since its potency had been diluted with more porridge, well, it was well into noon before sleep visited them.

“Your Majesty,” one of the guards rushed to Neera, looking warily at a maid splayed over the window sill. “Should we call in a doctor?”

Neera glanced over at a guard slumped at his sleeping post, legs stretched forward and a loud snore coming from him.

“No, they will be just fine... Unfortunately.”

….

Freya strode down the passageway in Azriel’s home down to his library. Usually, there was no sanctuary than her quarters at the castle, but she bore the duties of Neera now, dealing with the affairs of the Kingdom while the King and the Queen gallivanted around town in newlywed bliss.

Azriel stepped out from the library, and just at the same time, Freya spotted his darling little catch of a maid approaching from the other end.

Freya smiled, walked hastily up to Azriel, and put her arms around his neck.

“I’ve missed you.” She said and made a pout with her lips as if to kiss him.

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