How Not to Poach a Unicorn

Thirteen

 Cariolta sat back in her dining chair, took a sip of wine and stared into the amber liquid as though she were watching the story play within the bowl of the glass. "I suppose it started a little more than two months ago. My father, King Eridan..."

Cariolta paused suddenly shaken by the memory of her late father. Choking back her grief, she continued. "My father was worried that the harsh winter that had just passed would lead to poor hunting for the roaming people of Desidan. Whevever such a winter had happened in the past, the starving bands of hunters would raid the eastern farms of Haelund, which usually had a bumper crop following the heavy snow of those same winters. Retribution would be called for and it has, more than once escalated into a war. The last was thirty years ago and the injuries of that vicious feud have not been forgotten."

"I am familiar with my history Cari." Taimon interrupted "Unlike your little brother, I attended my classes."

Cariolta's brow furrowed. Her porcelain face twisted for a moment with the desire to chastise the Baron for the slight to her family, but she turned that energy towards her story. "Then you should know that the outcome of these wars is always the same. Hundreds die in battle; thousands more starve in the following winter and no one has ever claimed a meaningful victory from them. It was the intention of the kings to stop this before it started. The crown princes of both nations were to meet on neutral ground, at the Tomb of the God Emperor, to discus alternatives. Unfortunately there were complications."

"My father was assassinated." Kish interrupted, full of righteous fury. "He was poisoned in his own home. He and my older brother, Ulrat, had been heard arguing the night before. The next morning he was found dead from blackroot poison in his mead. None but my brother had been in or out of his tent that night, so he was blamed. The Council of Elders claimed that he was trying to take the throne by force, before his time and they exiled him."

"Ulrat rode north along with fifty elkmen who were loyal to him.

The rest of us were left to suffer the rule of my younger brother Karle, who is not yet fourteen. What's worse is that Karle made his lecherous tutor his chief adviser. That man is far too wily to wield that kind of power."

"So did Ulrat kill your father?" Prag interrupted rather rudely, speaking through a piece of smoked yak.

"Of course not!" She nearly impaled Prag with her glare. "Ulrat revered my father, as we all did. They argued often; that was their wayof discussing things. If one wanted the other dead, they would have run them through, not used poison. I doubt Ulrat would even know where to find blackroot. No. This was a conspiracy. I suspect Karle's tutor had a hand to play in it and now he practically rules the country." Kish slammed herself back into her chair in frustration.

Cariolta picked up again, in a saddened tone. "Ulrat refused to take Kish with him in exile. He forced her to stay and do her best to keep Karle safe from the now obviously malicious influence of his adviser.

She offered Kish a comforting hand before continuing. "At the same time, trouble had started in Haelund. There were two assassination attempts made on the life of my brother, Prinin. Neither succeeded, but my father became very wary of letting him travel outside the castle until the source of them could be found."

"So someone finally tried, eh?" Taimon mumbled to himself.

"What?" The princess was shocked at the idea that Taimon, a close friend of Prinin, would know anything of attempts on his life.

It was Baroness Verena that spoke up. "I suppose that such things are not discussed within earshot of anyone at court, but it has been long mumbled that Prinin would not make a good king."