Page 76 of Wicked Thieves
Just as she began worrying that he would question her further, the king appeared to have lost interest in her. Instead, he turned his attention to the physician and motioned toward the steaming pot. Horia quickly obeyed and uncorked one of the small vials he’d brought with him. Pouring in the white substance inside the cup he then filled it with the water. The scent that filled the air within the king’s chambers was unpleasant, distinctive and familiar, though she could not place what the tonic consisted of based on smell alone. Perhaps she could ask the physician when he returned or look at the jar of herbs she’d seen upon his shelves. If only for the sole sake of discovery.
“Here you are, your highness. Drink up,” Horia said as he offered the cup to the king before quickly backing away.
The king took the cup from Horia and took a long drink from it. As if the hot water hardly burned his mouth while steam billowed around his face. From where she stood, she could see his complexion was pallid. Sickly. Dark circles stained the skin beneath his eyes though they were overshadowed by the stark color of his irises. So similar to the way his son had looked when she’d first met Castian in the parlor.
Could it be that they were both sick with the same ailment? Or was Aeric right in assuming that the prince was being poisoned all along…
By the time the king placed the cup onto the table, barely mere moments had passed. His attention slowly turned to the white vase of curling red spiked amaranths beside the ceramic pot. Noticing that they were well on their way to wilting, the red petals adorning the surface of the table.
With his cup now empty, he said, “Return within the hour with more.”
Horia hesitated. “Your highness, such high doses for this particular ailment could very well be dangerous?—”
“Did I ask you for your diagnosis, Horia?” King Stefan’s cold words cut through the physician’s own wary advice.
“N-no, sire. Of course not.”
“You, girl. Come take these putrid flowers away. I cannot stand the stench of them,” King Amaranth said as he leaned back in his chair, appearing seemingly exhausted. Motioning with one hand toward the red spiked amaranth sitting within a white vase upon the desk.
Horia nodded for her to obey before she stepped up to him, feeling her heart beating faster in her chest with every step she grew closer to the man who had dedicated his life in annihilating her people.
The king hardly looked at her as she picked up the vase. A cold, rough hand suddenly gripped her wrist, yanking her to him causing her to drop the vase onto the ground. The sound of glass shattering filled the room, water splashed across the ebony tiles and amaranths pooled around her feet in a swirling mess of crimson.
The king’s eyes appeared almost frantic as he brought her hands close so that he could inspect her palms. His grip turning into a vice around her wrists.
“No scars. Not even a nick,” the king murmured before he slowly released her—too slowly. She sent a silent feeling of gratitude to Adan for teaching her to drop her foolish ways of cutting her palms to conjure, now more than ever. Doing so could have cost her life all within mere moments of arriving to the castle. The king’s expression returned to one of sheerboredom as he sat back in his chair and rested his chin atop his fist. “Leave me. Do not disturb me until it is time for the next vial.”
“Yes, sire.” Horia quickly hurried to Anelize and pulled her toward the doors. Sharing in her need to leave the presence of the king in equal measure it would seem for as soon as they closed the doors behind them, Horia’s face was covered in sweat.
“Forgive me, Miss,” the physician stammered as he retrieved a handkerchief from the pocket of his pants, patting at his face. “I do not do well when it comes to paying visits to the king. Best thing you can do is try to stay calm when he makes his demands. Which, all things considered, you did. Come along now.” Horia beckoned her to follow him with a weak smile before he scurried down the hall.
As he disappeared, Anelize slowly glance back toward the door before meeting Adan’s sharp questioning gaze as he took her in. As if already sensing that the king had done something to her. When his eyes went to her wrists, they appeared to grow darker.
Releasing a breath, she turned and followed after the physician before he came back searching for her. As she walked away, she glanced down to her wrists where the skin was already mottled with bruises.
26
The next day, when she emerged from the too small room she’d been granted by Horia to sleep in, she found a note he’d left upon his desk telling her to meet him in the hothouse where he would show her where she was to retrieve the herbs for all the remedies and treatments they would be administering to the recovering Watchmen in the infirmary.
She stepped out of the infirmary and found there were a set of guards posted on either side of the large arching windows across the hall. They paid her no mind as she closed the door of the infirmary and turned to stride past them. She may as well have been wearing a sack over her head, for none of the guards paid her any mind as she followed the servants rushing about through the halls to perform their daily tasks. Anelize supposed it was normal to be wholly ignored, deemed insignificant when one was born merely to serve by the king’s standards.
The castle was a labyrinth of halls and staircases wherever she went, and she found herself growing more and more lost with each passing moment she failed in finding her way out to the gardens.
Once she reached the base of the stairs to the main hall, she tried to stop a maid to ask where she could find it, only to be ignored when she hurried past her. Given the Senin was in a few days, Anelize hardly blamed her. After her encounter withthe king and how easily he’d grabbed her, it was normal that so many within these walls would fear his wrath.
“May I be of assistance?” Idris drawled, and she nearly breathed out a sigh of relief as she turned to face him. He was wearing his Watchman’s uniform, the collar high around his neck, the scar on his face appearing harsher as he regarded her with an impassive expression. His eyes, however, shined with amusement.
“Would you happen to know where I may find the hothouse? I seem to have gotten lost.”
Idris turned toward a set of doors before he started walking away. Anelize kept her head down as she followed behind him, and before long they reached the castle grounds. Following the path that led into the garden, they made their way through the courtyard lined with hedges dappled with snow, walking slowly to avoid slipping on patches of ice when, without looking back at her, Idris murmured, “Are you all right?”
“Yes, if a little disconcerted.” Anelize followed his lead just as she spotted another set of guards patrolling the grounds.
“Just have to see this through to the end. We’re nearly there, remember that.”
His encouragement helped ease her a bit even if he didn’t look at her, his face one of ice as he looked straight ahead.
“I honestly do not know how you all managed to do this for so many years. I’ve been here all of one day and I’m ready to return to the port.”
