In the darkened room, the bishop waited, staring out of the window into the dying sun. In the half-light, the Gothic buildings of the Old Town appeared as if bathed in blood. They would be soon.

The princess would come. Oh she might have sworn an oath of loyalty to her brother but in the end words were meaningless. Actions were what really counted. And in a kingdom where son could kill father, could sister not kill brother also?

She had already proved her ability. It was well known that she was one of the most able poisoners in the land. her fair fingers could mix poisons that had no scent, no flavour, no possible method of detection. One drop and you were doomed.

A knock at the door. The bishop smiled. He loved it when a plan came together. By tomorrow, the throne would be his. Foolish princess. Had she really thought that the people would accept a female monarch?

A visibly-shaken servant stood on the other side of the door. "The king is dead, your Grace. And I have a message from the princess for you."

Smiling to himself, the bishop unrolled the parchment. But what he saw within wiped the smile off his face. Three words. "Only fools trust."

It was then that the pain struck. And as he slumped to the floor, gasping out his last breath, he cursed his foolishness in accepting the princess's gift of a bottle of wine.