Free The Warrior and the Petulant Princess by Maggie Carpenter

feet.
    “Friends of the court, may I have your attention!”
    A hush fell across the crowd, and a table was carried in and placed in the center of the room where the entertainers had just been performing.
    “As is the custom, our honored guest will serve you all,” he announced as a large cake was brought in and placed on the table. “With Lord Larian being such a swordsman, I’m sure the pieces will be equal.”
    There was laughter and tittering in the crowd, and Larian rose from his chair.
    “Thank you, Sire, it will be my great pleasure.”
    Moving from his chair he strode to the table, lifted the thin, glimmering knife, and sliced through the middle of the large, square dessert. There was applause as he sliced off two pieces and presented them to the King and Lizbett.
    “Prepare yourselves,” he muttered as he laid them down. “Sire, if you please.”
    Handerah waited until Larian had returned to the table and was slicing more pieces, before once again rising from his chair.
    “Friends of the Court, I have an announcement, and it seems appropriate to make it while Lord Larian is slicing the cake.”
    Though his head was down, Larian’s eyes were not focused on his task, they were glancing across at Farris and his cronies; as he’d hoped the traitors and their wives were staring up at the King; it would have been rude to look anywhere else. Covertly retrieving the tiny vial of poison from the pocket of his vest, he dropped its contents upon the small slices of cake, keeping one untainted.
    “Commander Larian will not just be a Commander for his Principality of Zanderone, he has agreed to share his experience and knowledge with us, and will be sworn in as a Commander here in Verdana.”
    He balanced the four plates of cake along the length of each of his muscled arms, and as he carried them across to Farris and his comrades there was a smattering of applause and calls of congratulations. Carefully placing the dishes in front of each of them, he straightened himself up and gave a small bow to the crowd.
    “When you receive your cake,” the King declared, “please eat heartily to show your support of our new Commander.”
    With Larian standing directly in front of them the group were obliged to lift their forks and eat, and it was only a moment later that the commotion began.
    Farris and his friends began choking, grabbing at their throats, some banging the table with their fists. Within seconds all but one of the eight was on the floor or leaning back in their chair with white foam spilling from their mouth.
    “No-one move!” the King commanded.
    With lightening speed Larian reached across, grabbed the sole, stunned survivor by his jacket, and lifting him easily, he yanked him over the table and flung on the floor in front of the King’s table. Falling into a crumpled, terrified heap, the once proud noble stared up at his monarch.
    “Mercy, Sire, mercy,” he cried.
    “Friends of the Court,” the King bellowed ignoring the pleading man and raising his voice over the panic in the room. “Farris and his friends just attempted to poison me, the Princess, and Lord Larian. Now that poison has been turned against them. No-one will leave this room until I determine it is safe for you to do so. There may be others waiting to do you harm.”
    The truth was, not only did Handerah want the opportunity to interrogate each of them personally, with one of the plotters left alive he would quickly learn who else was involved and he didn’t want anyone to leave the room.
    “Guards!”
    The banquet doors flew open and five fully suited warriors strode forward.
    “Two of you, take this man to the dungeons. You, guard this door to the banquet chamber, you two, stay by the banquet doors. No-one is to come in or leave.”
    With the situation firmly in hand, Larian hurried to Lizbett’s side.
    “Larian, I can’t believe it,” she breathed, her eyes wide.
    “Everything is in hand,” he said calmly. “There’s