Sustaining The King's Life 93 Special Chapter 1.2

"Shh, Nene! The bread you're baking, pay attention to it!" says Gibson, the head cook. The sous chef giggled and then proceeded to taste test the food. They were preparing the king's dinner.

"It seemed he's not dining alone," Stella murmurs.

"How odd!" The others seemed to agree.

Nene was new to the palace, having been selected as an a.s.sistant cook because she was recommended by her father who was a government official working under the provincial lords. It took an effort to get her the position—she was a decent baker, and her father had the connections. But she wasn't just there to be an a.s.sistant cook.

"Is the king uninterested in a consort? Concubines?" Nene whispers to the girl kneading a dough. They had brief introductions earlier. The girl's name was Lana—she heard from the cooks that she used to be a maid and was demoted to a dishwasher due to her spreading rumors. Nene knew she was the best one yet to give the juiciest news.

"Well, as far as I heard when I was once a maid, the young king barely even pays attention to the ministers' suggestion on him taking a wife," Lana whispers back. "I never even saw his face."

"T-that's how rare he appears?"

"Well, I don't know if it's true or not… but I heard he's… sick."

"Sick?!" Nene instantaneously covered her lips, as she noticed people looking at her. She met the head cook's eyes. She grinned sheepishly. She couldn't fail on the very first day of the job.

Nene had a rather fair skin compared to other commoners. She had beautiful brown hair and a pair of unusually ocean-blue eyes. Her mother said it reminded her of the color of turquoise, which was weird because it wasn't nearly similar to that color. Nene was fond of cosmetics and dresses, even if she was a peasant. Her five other sisters were married to either government officials, or merchants... but Nene was an ambitious woman. She begged her father to flaunt her skills to the ministers in hope for a spot in the castle's kitchen.

Of course, Nene didn't want to be stuck cooking for meals. She didn't want to be a servant for the rest of her life. People told her she was beautiful and could land herself a rich scion, an inn-owner or if she got lucky, one of the gentries. She could get married to a man who got the money and could afford her a dress or two.

People—oh, the people. Their dreams were too lowly. Nene wanted more than scions. She did not want to marry a man who was doomed to work and work to afford her a dress. She wanted a man of higher origin. Someone who could simply flick his finger and she could have anything she desires.

Nene wanted the king.

After they were done cooking the king's meal, the servants served it straightaway and once again, the cooking room was free from the workload. Almost. They still needed to prepare for the breakfast and were rounding up the staples.

"Has no one ever tempted the king?" Asks Nene bluntly.

Some girls, whose name Nene had forgotten, giggled.

"Oh, Nene," they exclaim. "You know; it doesn't work like that. The ministers' daughters are already in-line for the king. But he was so firm, and did not entertain ever one."

"That's odd," Nene asks. "How come he doesn't even see one? Isn't that disrespectful?"

"Disrespectful?" Gibson, the head cook, laughed heartily. "This is the king. The best one, at that! The ministers try to use their daughters to climb to the top, hoping to control the king in their favor. But oh, he's as smart as his late father. He cannot be labeled as disrespectful. He's the most powerful man in the country."

Nene tilted her head. She didn't know politics, much less the background of the king's family. She was young and simply wanted to be beautiful to get a better groom. Nothing more, nothing less.

"The king's late father?"

"Oh, tragic story. I don't want to talk about it."

The other seemed to agree.

"Right, the girl the king brought here the other day…" says Brenda, another cook. "I haven't seen her, but we cooked her food on a daily basis. She's shut on the guest room, I see."

"A girl?" Nene asks.

"Yes, I heard she's young and pet.i.te. I heard from the maids she's called 'The Favored One.'"

"The favored one?"

"Well, it seemed like the king visits her personally. Or he summons her." Says another girl. "Heard from the maids. They didn't leak much. Maids are said to be quite tight-lipped!"

Nene bit her lips and clenched her fist. It seems like a compet.i.tor has arrived.

**

Faustina rested that day onwards and was locked to her room. She woke up in the middle of the night panting. She ma.s.saged her temples and tried to remember the dream—all she knew it was a nightmare. One she couldn't recall at that.

Faustina sat down shortly and stood up afterward. The moon was at its highest peak. She picked the candlelight from the nightstand but realized there was no match. With the moon illuminating her path, she strolled outside her chambers. She had an overwhelming need to walk around. Maddie already toured her to the castle and told her which way would lead to certain places.

The moon was high tonight. Its light would suffice.

Later on, she arrived at the garden, near to the Amber Palace. The roses were on full bloom and were beautiful in the moonlight. She strolled towards the castle's greenhouse, which she only explored once. It was the only thing left unguarded and unlocked.

She inhaled the cold breeze before she entered the greenhouse. The sky was clear of clouds and stars were very much visible like sparkling jewels underneath a clad of a dark blue tint.

Faustina entered the greenhouse and cursed she didn't bring her duffel beforehand. She could've gotten medicinal and poisonous plants. There was a vast array of plants she did and did not recognize. Vines were climbing atop and vases containing various sets of herbs. Faustina felt fascinated. If Eula was here, she would be gathering all these plants and examining them to no end, mixing and diluting and—

Faustina stopped.

Eula was gone. Eula cannot do that anymore. She was nothing but a cold corpse now.

Faustina bit her lips and shook off her thoughts. And as she wandered inside the greenhouse, scrutinizing the shrubberies, she stopped by a flower with a distinct amethyst color. She stared at its petals intently and reached her hand forward. She's never seen anything like it before. Beside it was a pinkish poppy, a kind she's never seen before. She immediately plucked one and smelled its intoxicating scent.

"Monkshood, or Wolf's bane. An ornamental perennial sports lovely racemes of blue-violet flower, but highly toxic. It has been used as a poison for poison arrows. Although it is used in medicine as an a.n.a.lgesic and to treat inflammation and heart problems, the therapeutic and toxic dose are very close. If eaten, even small amounts of the plant can cause convulsions, paralysis, and worse, death." A familiar, gentle voice says. "And the one in your hand is an opium poppy. You can have delusions from it, my fair maiden."

Faustina turned around quickly, only to see sapphire-blue eyes staring back at her. She dropped the flower to the floor.

"What are you doing here, Faustina?"

"M-my king!" Faustina bowed. "I—I was… I wanted to get some medicinal p-plants. So, I, uh… I came here to look for them."

The king smiled. "In the middle of the night with no maid to a.s.sist you?"

Faustina blinked. "I—Is that bad?" will you sell me to the slave traders now? –was what Faustina wanted to add.

"Not really." The king says, smiling. "If you are looking for roots, herbs, leaves, and petals of the medicinal kind, a plea would have made me call the hermit-herbalist Zue to get it for you."

"I just… wanted to get it myself."

The king tilted his head and smiled. He extended his hand towards Faustina, "come; you almost risked your life when you admired the monkshood's beauty. I do not want someone with an important role to die of such death."

Faustina, although hesitant, accepted his offered hand. They went back to the rose garden, and then the king removed his robe, revealing his nightclothes. He enclosed the robe to Faustina's body.

Faustina's cheeks reddened. She was only wearing her nightgown. She forgot to put anything on.

"You'll get a cold from the icy-breeze, my fair maiden."

Faustina stared intently to the king's sapphire eyes, his jeweled gaze sending shivers down to her spine. She felt intoxicated and dizzy. Even his voice was gentler than ever.

"Are you alright?"

"I just feel… dizzy." Faustina exclaims. "My king… you can give me… anything I want… right?"

Faustina stumbled forward as her legs wobbled weakly. The king responded swiftly in return as he wrapped an arm around her waist to prevent her from falling.

"Ah, you smelled an opium poppy."

"I… I want my master back to me. I want… to come back… cabin…"

Alexander caressed Faustina's cheeks, with measured gentleness. "I'm afraid I cannot do that. Do you desire anything else?"

"I want to go… to… the hall…"

"Hall?"

"I want to… I wanna—see you. See the portraits of the nine kings."

"That's exclusive to the…"

Faustina grunted, her cheeks red. She looked like she was intoxicated. For a while, Alexander made his façade break. He was, after all, dealing with a creature who drugged herself by smelling a flower. This girl, who shall be sustaining his life, was just another small and fragile creature. He chuckled.

"Alright," the king says, smiling warmly. "But you would not remember afterward, because of the drug. Is that alright?"

"Okay," Faustina says, grinning. "I… even though I don't understand anything, I feel like… I… you're…"

Alexander pressed his index finger to Faustina's soft lips. He smiled.

"Shh," he says. "I'll give you what you desire for tonight, my fair maiden. This is my payment for draining you."

"Draining me…?"

"Your life force." The king mutters silently.

He kissed her forehead gently.

"We have to go to the palace so you shall see what you desire." The king exclaims. "The moon and I will be the keeper of this memory. The hall of portraits will be deep in your dreams. Until then I will be with you."

The kind held her hand gently, and for Faustina, it was like a vague dream. Walking to the palace exclusive only for the royals, her fingers entwined with the king.

She couldn't remember much from the reverie,

But she was certain.

There were nine portraits…

…with the face of one. Nothing differed; in fact, they were all peculiarly similar, as if it was only one person with nine portraits. The same platinum-blond hair, and eyes that were the color of sapphire jewels.