Page 78 of Wicked Thieves
He clearly wasn’t prone to gossip as she had hoped. Rather than insisting lest she stir any suspicions, she played into her role as a dutiful assistant. Asking questions and pretending to be interested in his musings on his practice.
One thing was certain, he enjoyed being a physician, no matter how inexperienced he appeared to be. Which made her question why he was involved with someone as vile as Esna. What was his goal? Was it all for the sake of coin or something else? Who were they taking to the tunnels and why?
She had so many questions and hardly any time to sort through them.
“Are you all right, Miss Anya?” Horia’s question snapped her out of her thoughts.
They were standing in a large circular expanse that put on display the several flowerbeds and shrubbery, the branches of the ferns so long that she had to reach a hand and push them aside. They were surrounded by so much greenery that Anelize wondered if she had ever seen anything quite so breathtaking when before all that she’d seen was snow and ice. If only it hadn’t been soiled by the conversation she’d overheard.
“Yes, I’m sorry, it’s been a long morning.”
“Well, if it is fatigue, I have just the tonic for it. I’ve also recently concocted a poultice in the form of a thick cream to help with cuts and other severe lacerations. It is derived from a combination of Arctium lappa for inflammation, honey to soothe, and calendula.”
This time, her interest was piqued. “I haven’t seen calendula grow in Elvir for many years now. I suspected the cold had wiped them clean off the map long ago.”
“I managed to preserve the roots the last time I found some growing out in the fields. They’re considered weeds by many, but we know best, don’t we?” Horia chuckled in delight, as if they were both sharing a secret. Anelize couldn’t help but smile, finding his peculiarities amusing. “Planted them right here in the hothouse along with other plants I’d hate to part ways with. Though, being an apothecary, I’m sure you understand how rare it is to preserve such fleeting life. More so when it comes to treating someone with an ailment, only to find you have nothing to treat them with.”
A thought came to mind, and she decided to sneak in the question before they strayed too far from the topic at hand. “Have you ever tried treating the malady?”
Horia took in a breath before dropping his head, shaking it with lament. “I haven’t encountered it much within the castle, but I remember there was a time when I worked in the upper district that I caught a glimpse of a few who had been touched by the Vedrans darkness. I am afraid there is no cure. Poor things.”
The lie had come entirely too easy for him. Only serving to make her suspicions of the physician’s involvement that much higher.
“How do you suppose it began?” she asked, feigning mere curiosity.
“It could go as far back as the Weaver cursing King Amaranth with the malady, though he was always strong enough to withstand her wiles and her power. Upon witnessing the way his court grew sick with the malady all those years ago, he has devoted his life to finding a way to free us all from the Vedran’s evil deeds.”
More lies and excuses.
Anelize wondered if Horia realized they were, however, for the hopeful smile on his lips and pride in his voice when mentioning the king’s tyranny seemed to say otherwise. Had he been that manipulated into believing that was what was truly happening in Elvir? Or had he merely convinced himself that the Vedrans were at fault for the mistakes of one powerful being like the Weaver?
Anelize, no doubt, despised those who cast their prejudice out to the Vedrans, but did she blame them all for it? Not anymore. After seeing how many sympathizers had been fighting for their cause the day of the raids, Anelize no longer felt that she could put all Madacian’s within the same cluster as those who would prefer to see them all dead. Just as she wassure there were a significant amount of Vedrans who sought to kill any who dared stumble into their path. It was all wrong. The only way she could see a way forward, to stop this fight between Madacians and Vedrans alike, would be if they all decided to fightforeach other to put a stop to the king’s reign.
“I understand he wishes to put an end to the Vedrans. However, why has he been so adamant now, of all times, to do so?”
Horia contemplated his next words, possibly considering how much he should reveal to her.
“I believe it has much to do with the remembrance of the late queen’s passing. I can’t imagine it is easy, especially after he lost his own son to the Vedrans this year. Terrible ordeal.”
“The queen?”
“Queen Elisabeta. A beautiful woman, both inside and out. We were all fortunate to have her as our queen. One night, after a Vedran prisoner escaped the dungeons, they attempted to take the book for themselves within the castle. The queen was, unfortunately, the one who found the Vedran and attempted to stop him. The price she paid was her life in the end before the Watchmen arrived and discovered her body. A true tragedy.” Horia blinked, seeming to remember himself as he cleared his throat. “But please do not mention any of this to a soul. King Amaranth doesn’t take kindly to the mention of his late wife or the prince.”
Anelize reassured him before taking in the many flowers of varying colors spread out across the flowerbeds. Spying a cluster of yarrows, she bent down and ran a finger over the soft, white petals.
That was when a particular scent reached her nose. Familiar…yet not at all. Much like the one in the vial that Horia had brought to the king yesterday. Amongst all the flowers surrounding them, it was difficult to detect where it was coming from.
Noticing where her attention had gone, Horia quickly stepped over and placed a hand over her shoulder. “Why don’t we go to the infirmary now? We have much to do.”
Anelize eyed the physician as he walked toward the glass door before stealing one final glance over her shoulder and wondering just how much the physician truly knew about the royal family. And if he had a hand in any of their downfall.
27
By the end of the night, Horia led Anelize out of the infirmary to her small modest room that consisted of a single window, one small bed tucked in the corner and a table. Barely enough room to walk about between the furniture and the door.
With a yawn, the physician bid her farewell before closing the door behind her.
Try as she did, sleep didn’t come for her as she laid there, staring up at the wall. Lost to thoughts of her sister, the Loom, the mention of the queen and prince’s murders expertly fabricated to place blame upon the Vedrans. At the very least, she knew that to be true in Castian’s case.
