The Poisoned Throne

Chapter 20

Mary

Mary entered her uncle’s apartments, looking around her uncertainly. She had been surprised when he asked - through a message carried by a servant - for her to visit him, and even now she remained confused and clueless about what his intentions were.

A servant approached her. “Milady, his lordship awaits you in his bedchambers.”

She frowned. “In his bedchambers?”

“Yes, milady,” he said. “Didn’t he tell you? He’s fallen ill. He hasn’t left his bed for three days.”

Her eyes narrowed as her confusion only grew. “Take me to him.”

She was led into a dark room, where the only light was what little bit of sun could pierce through the dark curtains covering the windows. However, the paleness of Raymond’s face seemed to almost glow of its own accord. There was no smell of sickness or sweat, only the stench that you would expect in a room where the sheets had not been changed and the windows not opened for a few days.

“Raymond,” she whispered. “What has happened?”

His breathing was so deep and his body so still that she might have thought him asleep if it had not been for the heavy-lidded eyes gazing back at her.

“Get a chair for her,” he told the servant as he sat up into the bed. Once she was seated beside him, he said, “I’m so happy you could come.”

She took the hand closest to her own. “Of course. Now, tell me, what is the matter? Are you sick? Is it the plague?”

“No, no, it’s not that,” he said, shaking his head. “No, I’m just tired and old. The gods want me back.”

Her eyebrows drew together. “I don’t understand…”

“If you’re live as long as I have, you will one day,” he said. “Though I’m not sure if I hope it for you. Growing old is very lonely.” He rested his head back against the headboard. “Did you know that the Kahari, Asha, just died?”

Mary shook her head, clenching her hand around his. “No. What about it?”

“I remember her when she was just a child,” he told her. His eyes looked up at the ceiling above them, though she doubted he was seeing it. “It seems unfair that I should live longer than her, even if I do sometimes wonder if it is a punishment that I should survive this long.”

“Of course it’s not a punishment,” she whispered. “Don’t be ridiculous.”

“I’m not,” he said. “They do say that those who die early were missed by the gods. Sometimes I wonder if the gods simply forgot about me.” He sighed. “So now I’m taking matters into my own hands. I’ve decided it is my turn to go now.”

She shook her head. “Please do not speak like that. You will get better soon enough, you’ll see. As soon as this illness leaves your body, so will your depression.”

“I doubt it,” he said. “If it’s an illness that makes me feel this sad, then it’s been around for a long time. No, I’m just an old man longing for rest.”

“Then sleep,” she said. “Sleep, but wake up.”

He moved his head to look at her. “I don’t want to wake up. My dreams have turned to memories, repeating themselves over and over again as I sleep. Wakefulness cannot compare to that.” He sighed, turned his head back and lost his gaze into nothingness again. “My brother has died, the love of my life is gone, all my friends have long since left this world, and now Asha has died. Before, I was just a lonely old man, but now I am the last one left living from an era that has long since come and gone.” His hand twitched. “I hope you’ll never know the sort of pain that this is.”