Page 39 of Lord of Deception

“’Twould be welcome, Mistress.”

With a flickering smile, Alys sped into the kitchen, her mind awhirl. She could think of nothing that would make the man leave his post, at least, nothing that would not instantly cast suspicion upon herself. Then it came to her. She must knock him out or put him to sleep.

What would induce sleep? She could mull his ale with soporific herbs and spices—and was there not some aqua vitae in the buttery to give the potion extra bite?

While the poker heated in the embers, she hunted for what she needed. Mercifully, the servants had all departed for the attics, including those who normally slept in the service rooms, so none would witness the preparation of the drugging concoction.

She sniffed at the liquid as she heated it, hoping the man wouldn’t notice the acrid scent of the poppy juice she’d added, and poured it into a costrel. She decided to give him a tansy cake as well, bitter enough to disguise the ale’s peculiar taste. As she worked, she brightened, certain that everything she did brought her one step closer to rescuing Kit.

Her eyes wandered around the pantry and alighted on a salver full of Bess’ mushroom patties. The woman invariably put too much salt in these, with the result that a great deal of liquid was required when eating one. Alys smiled to herself as she added several to the platter.

What a revelation it was to discover how cunning she could be when she tried. Despite the danger of her situation, she’d never felt more alive than she did now. Kit would be proud of her.

When she carried the steaming brew down the cellar steps, the man thudded up to meet her, as if to prevent her coming down any further.

“The ale is not of the best—it’s some of that which had to be moved up from the cellar last night. It has not quite settled again. So, I have mulled it with spices to make it more pleasing.”

“You are very good.” He took the platter and costrel before disappearing back into the murky depths.

Now followed a period of agony. She had no idea how long the potion she’d made up would take to work. She could not linger around in the kitchen without exciting suspicion, and it was far too late at night to pretend to be doing any domestic tasks.

From the sounds coming from above, the household was preparing itself for bed.

Eventually, she decided to do the same. She could come back later to see if her drugs had been successful—if anyone crossed her path, she’d make some excuse.

She was taking an incredible risk. But a world without Kit Ludlow in it would be like a lifetime without seeing the sun.