I Hate Seafood, Which Apparently Saved My Life

The following morning, Dr. Isaak paid a visit to my room, ostensibly to check on my arm and address my dislocated finger. He handed me a thick piece of leather to clench between my teeth, a precaution meant to stop me from cracking a molar or biting through my tongue. The precaution was insufficient. When he forced the bone back into its socket with a sickening jolt of pain, I bit clean through it. As the agony subsided into a dull throb, I asked him about his cousin.

He assured me that the man was doing well and seemed pleased that I had remembered his "poor cousin," a small smile playing on his lips as if he were privy to some private joke. He claimed a recent letter from the man had allayed all his anxieties, though he lamented that he wished he could have visited him personally.

“So, Miss Natalia,” Dr. Isaak continued, his voice shifting to a tone of professional concern, “one of the kitchen maids mentioned that General Gathersword, the King’s uncle, is scheduled to arrive. He has not visited the capital in a great while. I must ask, do you know if there is any truth to this? Has the King received any correspondence from him? The General has some persistent health issues, you see, and it would be prudent for me to replenish my medical supplies prior to his arrival.” My, what a thoughtful man Dr. Isaak was.

“Not that I’m aware of,” I told him honestly. “I’ve never even heard of the General until this very moment.” Dr. Isaak simply nodded, declared me sufficiently treated, and took his leave.

As the doctor was departing, Morgan slipped in to help me change into the hideous garment they had designated as fashionable swimwear. We chatted for a while as I dressed, reminiscing about our school days and making plans for things we could do together in the future. We even touched briefly upon the doctor’s odd behavior. Before long, Morgan was leading me toward the lake, and I snacked on some of the fresh fruit she had packed for the walk.

The lake was not nearly as large as Cayuga Lake back home, which is a truly massive body of water, but it was certainly substantial enough that calling it a pond would have been an insult. The water was a brilliant sapphire-blue, and the perimeter was encircled by a lush expanse of green grass. The shore, I was happy to see, was not sand but was instead composed of flat, smooth stones perfect for walking. A few maids stood waiting near the water’s edge, and I couldn't help but wonder what their purpose was.

Interestingly, of all things, Viktor was lounging on a floating raft in the middle of the lake. A smirk touched the corners of my mouth when I noted he wasn’t very far from the dock. An idea, brilliant and wicked, began to form.

I shed the robe they’d given me, walked to the end of the long wooden dock, and broke into a run. The moment my feet hit the edge, I launched myself into the air and landed with an enormous splash right beside Viktor’s raft. When I resurfaced, sputtering and laughing, he was sitting bolt upright, his face a mask of the most horrified expression I had ever witnessed. From the shore, I heard gasps; every maid, Morgan included, was staring at me with her mouth and eyes wide open. I let out another chuckle, turning back to find Viktor’s expression still frozen in shock.

Ignoring the faint ache still radiating from my arm and finger, I ducked beneath the water again. This time, I swam directly under his raft and, with all my might, pushed upward. He let out a startled yell as the raft flipped, tumbling him into the cool water. When I broke the surface again, I was overcome with laughter. This time, however, his expression was not one of shock, but a dangerous glare. Uh oh.

I tried to swim away from the scene of the crime as quickly as I could, but a hand suddenly clamped around my ankle, dragging me back under the gentle waves. When I came up sputtering this time, it was Viktor whose eyes were laughing. I don’t think I’d ever seen him look so… fun. Perhaps he wasn’t so terrible after all. He was still an arrogant jerk, to be sure, but maybe not a complete jerk.

After a few hours of swimming, we finally headed back for lunch. My skin was pruney, and my shoulders and back were already the color of a ripe tomato from sunburn. I finally discovered the maids' purpose. The instant I stepped from the water, they were there, toweling me off, slipping slippers onto my feet, and wrapping me in my robe. After Viktor received the same treatment, our small procession made its way back to the manor on foot. I found it a bit annoying that the maids remained utterly silent when I tried to engage them in conversation. Morgan, too, was unusually quiet. Her silence didn’t dampen my spirits, however, and I soon found myself deep in a lively conversation with Viktor.

My good mood crashed and burned the moment I was dressed and seated in the dining room. Sitting there on the plate before me was my most vilified adversary—a foe so despised that Viktor had been demoted to number ten on my list: fish. Even though I am not a vegetarian, I loathe seafood. I do not eat it. Ever. I had managed to avoid it my entire time in this world, but it seemed my luck had finally run out. Fantastic. Note the sarcasm.

As Viktor began his meal, I ate the bread and vegetables on my plate, pointedly ignoring the fish. Morgan was having her own lunch in the kitchen, and I wished she were here. Had she been present, I would have passed my serving of seafood to her, as was our custom. To create the illusion that I simply wasn’t very hungry, I sliced the fish into smaller pieces, rearranging them on the plate. It was a shame to waste it. One of the most common grievances I’d heard in this world was the hunger of the poor, and the thought of good food being thrown away made me feel terribly guilty. I made a mental note to visit the kitchens later to see what became of any food the king left uneaten. Reaching for my cup, I took a long swallow of water.

I was so lost in thought that the sudden bang of the dining room doors flying open made me jump. One of the chefs rushed in, his face white with terror. My hand spasmed, and the water cup slipped from my grasp, clattering to the floor and sending water spilling everywhere in an embarrassing mess.

“My lady, don’t eat the fish! It’s tainted!” the chef cried out.

What the hell? Even though I hadn’t been planning to eat it anyway, the words sent a chill through me. Was this an assassination attempt? But why? What could I have possibly done to deserve this?

The room exploded into anarchy. Servants began scuttling about as guards rushed in from all directions. In less than a minute, Dr. Isaak materialized before me, demanding I open my mouth for an examination.

“I didn’t eat the fish,” I said, my voice sounding slow and distant to my own ears. “I don’t eat fish, so I never even took a single bite.” A strange, unsettling calm settled over me. Shouldn’t I be panicking more than this?

“She’s gone into a state of shock, Your Majesty,” the doctor murmured, his gaze shifting between me and Viktor. “I believe it wasn’t just the fish that was poisoned. Her water.”

I am not poisoned! I wanted to scream the words, to yell, but I couldn’t summon the energy. I realized with a jolt that I wasn’t truly calm; I was disconnected, unable to access my own feelings. Was this what shock felt like? A hollow, detached numbness?

“Bring me every person who was in the kitchen when this meal was prepared,” the king commanded. His voice was dangerously low, seething with a fury so palpable I could feel it without even looking at him. Approximately half the guards filed out of the room, returning moments later with the kitchen staff, leading them in one by one. I was startled when Morgan eventually entered the chamber as well, her arms restrained by a soldier, her face pale as she was brought before the king. She hadn’t done anything!