A Clue

The darkness inside the room was almost suffocating.

The white, half-transparent curtains fluttered around the king's cold bed like lost ghosts, caressing his limbs as the cool night breeze ran its fingers through them.

In the dim strip of cold white light cast by the fading shape of the moon, Althea sat with her legs crossed, a golden goblet in her pale, thin hand. The dark red liquid filled the vessel almost to the brim, and the queen's eyes narrowed as she watched it shimmer in the moonlight.

Slowly, she brought the goblet to her thin red lips and smiled as the liquid touched them, filling her mouth with its comforting warmth.

Once she emptied half of the goblet, Althea's lips curled into a wider smile, and she exhaled in relief.

Her delight, however, did not last long.

As her dark brown eyes shifted back to the unconscious king resting on the bed beside her, her brows furrowed with unconcealed disgust.