When he got back, she was just putting the lid back on the teapot. Looking up at him, her face went pale and she fumbled with it for a moment, the lid chattering against the china body of the pot in a nervous, staccato rhythm before she finally managed to get it back into place.
James frowned.
“Is something wrong, Princess?”
“Wrong? Oh, no—no, of course not,” Ka’rissa said quickly. “Have you the vase?”
“Yes—here it is.” He placed the vase on the table and frowned as she arranged the honeybell flowers in it rather haphazardly, as though it didn’t really matter how they looked.
James frowned again. Why had she made such a big deal out of getting the flowers in the first place if she wasn’t going to arrange them properly? Not that flower arrangement was a big deal to him—but it was to Ka’rissa.
Apparently, arranging flowers was one of the “gentle arts” that every lady on Regalia Five had to learn. He had seen her take a good three quarters of a solar hour getting a bunch of blossoms just the way she wanted them in a vase. And yet now she was jamming the honeybell blossoms into the receptacle he had procured for her as though it didn’t matter at all how they looked.
James didn’t even know why she would want such flowers at the table. The large, creamy, bell-shaped flowers were aesthetically pleasing, he supposed, but they had a sickly sweet fragrance that was unpleasantly offset by the bitter tang of their thin, green vines. The smells were almost overpowering to his sensitive Kindred nose, rendering the scent of the breakfast foods that had been left for them much less appetizing.
Still, he said nothing while the Princess fumbled with the flowers and then gave up, and started to pick up a piece of cloud bread.
“Wait!” James held out a hand to stop her.
“What? What is it?” She looked up at him with wide, startled eyes that were somehow…guilty? Or was he imagining that? James didn’t know, he just felt instinctively that something was wrong.
“I just wanted to say you’d better wash your hands before you handle the food,” James told her. “Those honeybell vines smell like they might be poisonous and you were just holding them.”
He nodded at her fingers, which had light green stains on them from the sap. Normally she would have washed her hands herself, without him mentioning it. What had his curvy little Princess so preoccupied today?
“Oh…” She stared at her sap-stained fingers. “Of course you’re right. I’ll be right back.”
She went to wash her hands and came back quickly, immediately pouring herself a cup of steaming tea. James frowned as the steam tickled his nostrils. Was it his imagination, or did the tea smell bitter? Almost as bitter as the honeybell vines…
Ka’rissa picked up her teacup and frowned at it irresolutely. She nearly took a sip…then put it down again on the dainty china saucer.
“Something wrong with the tea?” James asked, raising his eyebrows.
“What? Oh, no—nothing. Nothing is wrong at all,” Ka’rissa said quickly. “It’s just…a bit too hot, that’s all. I think I shall let it cool a bit before I drink it.”
“But I thought you liked your tea scalding hot?” James asked, frowning.
“Oh, well…” She cleared her throat, looking nervously away. “Today I choose to let it cool.”
He frowned. What was going on with the tea? Whatever it was, Ka’rissa wasn’t telling. She kept her eyes down, staring at her breakfast plate though something told James she wasn’t seeing it at all.
“I think I’ll have a cup of it myself,” he said, moving as though to lift the teapot.
“No!” Ka’rissa gasped, putting out a hand to stop him. “That is, they only sent enough for one today,” she added weakly, when James raised his eyebrows in surprise at her reaction. “I am sorry. Would you like me to ring for another pot, just for you?” she added.
He shook his head, still watching her carefully.
“No, that’s all right.”
“Very well.”
Ka’rissa lifted her teacup again and looked at it intently. She took a deep breath, as though nerving herself to do something either dangerous or distasteful or both. A calmness seemed to settle over her, James thought. No, not quite calmness—more of a calm despair. As though she had been nerving herself up to do something desperate and she had finally gotten her courage to the sticking point.
She lifted the cup to her lips and suddenly James heard a voice in his head—a warm, strong, feminine voice which spoke only to him.
“Do not let her drink it, warrior. It is poison.”
This was a startling occurrence that had never happened to him before. He had no idea who was speaking to him but the feeling of foreboding that filled him along with the words was so strong that he acted without thinking.