Page 83 of Wicked Thieves
As she strode away, leaving him behind to watch her, perhaps, being wicked was all she could afford to be. For all their sakes.
29
Days passed, and before she knew it, the night before the Senin was upon them.
Anelize hadn’t seen Aeric or the twins again, save for fleeting glimpses, as she tended to her responsibilities as Horia’s assistant. Her visits to the king were always unpleasant, though after their first encounter and the strange manner in which he’d behaved he’d been utterly disinterested in her. Much to her relief.
Over the past few days, Castle Rime had been transformed into a desolate place to a magnificent display of riches beyond belief. Tapestries bearing the king’s coat of arms representing his house and name decorated the walls along the banister that led down to the main hall. Chandeliers had been lit, casting light throughout the castle. The scent of rich food wafting from the kitchens filling the air. More amaranth flowers than she’d ever seen filled the halls upon their vases sitting atop stone pillars.
The maids, steward, and other servants had dutifully dedicated themselves to the task of commemorating their king as he deserved to be venerated by those within his court and citizens.
There were more guards than usual posted along the halls and entryways of the castle, she noted as she made her way tothe hothouse, volunteering to help Horia collect the herbs he would be needing for the new Watchmen who had been brought to them the night before. Another attack suffered by the hands of the monsters that lurked in the city.
A reminder that she needed to hurry, find the Loom, and destroy it.
As she stepped into the hothouse, she was glad to see there were no guards here, which granted her sufficient time to release a much-needed breath of fresh air. She took her time sorting through the list of herbs Horia had given her, cutting the stems with a pair of shears.
Upon reaching the large circular expanse, she caught that familiar scent again. Looking to the white yarrows still in their full bloom, she leaned forward and snipped one of them. The strange smell did not belong to it, much to her confusion. Gathering her skirts, she stepped into the small garden to eye each of the flowers curiously, wondering if she’d simply been overwhelmed by the dozens of other floras growing within the hothouse.
Until…she saw it.
A cluster of flowers with white petals. At a first glance, they looked similar to the sea of yarrows surrounding her. But only those inexperienced with the study of herbalism would truly mistake the deadly plant for anything other than what it was. Anelize ran her fingers through the ground rosettes of the yarrow in her hand before she crouched down and inspected the flowers. Five small petals, too small compared to the blooming buds of the yarrow in her hand.
Bringing the shears to the stem, she snipped it and brought them to her nose, scenting them before recoiling. The musty, pungent odor was unmistakable.
Her mind started to whirl. A memory coming to the surface of what Castian had confessed to her that night in his room about how he’d started to grow ill. Growing so weak, he’d hardly been able to stand on his own two feet without Aeric supporting him. Confused when he seemed to lose sense of all time. The lack of mobility in his limbs.
The plant before her, if consumed in any way, could cause all of those symptoms.
“Poison hemlock,” she murmured.
“Miss Anya, was it?”
Anelize tensed, steeling herself as she rose and turned to face the King of Elvir.
This time he wore a black velvet tunic with silver pearl buttons and red embroidery running along the hem and simple black pants. The deep red of his long coat lined with fur reminding her of blood as it pooled around his boots. In his hand he held a cane, using it for support. Those same dark circles rimmed his eyes, and he looked worse than he had when they’d first met.
Her hand gripped the stem of the poison hemlock as his eyes shifted to it, then back up to her face.
“Would you care to explain what it is you are doing amongst those flowers, covered in dirt like a commoner?”
Anelize swallowed before plastering a pleasant smile on her lips. “I was merely trying to find the best herbs for Physician Horia. He is very particular with what he chooses to use for his highness.”
“So it would seem.” King Amaranth turned to sit along the tall stone wall that encased the red spike Amaranthus bushes. Their petals a deep wine red and leaves nearly black as night as they seemed to bend around him. Bracing his hands over hiscane, he watched her with those scrutinizing eyes before asking, “And what herbs do you suspect my physician has been using to treat my ailment, Miss Anya?”
Was he testing her, or genuinely curious to know about her evaluation? It was difficult to tell when it came to the aloof king before her. One wrong move, and it would be her head, she was sure of it.
“He has been quite strict about your treatment. I am not certain I know, for he has done little to show me, your highness.” The truth. It was the truth. If she lied in any way, she suspected the king would know based on one shrewd glance alone.
“Yes, Horia has always taken my and my family’s care with the upmost importance. He has served the Amaranth bloodline since my father’s rule.” The king smiled, though it did not reach his gaze as he looked to the beauty of the greenery around them. “It would be a shame if he somehow managed to lose sight of his duties.”
Anelize nodded. “Yes, your highness.”
“And what would you say of my ailment? Would you recommend an alternative form of treatment?” he asked. An easy enough question if her assumption of the king and prince’s poisoning proved to bear any merit.
“I would suggest not taking anything at all.” At the king’s arched eyebrow, she continued. “At times, it is best to allow one’s system to cleanse itself from any intervening factors. It is difficult to know how one’s body may react to certain medicines, and gradually lessening the doses could very well help distinguish if the treatment is doing more harm than good. That way we could properly deduce which we should steer clear from, your highness.”
That much had to be true. Over time, Castian’s complexion and strength had returned to him when she began administering her own remedies. While hemlock poison was deadly, if it was gently introduced to, say, someone’s food ortea,then it could serve as a paralytic or even create the illusion that one’s system had begun to fail them due to poor health.
