57 | ACT III, SCENE V

P R E V I O U S L Y

"I am coming with you. And if you don't let me, I'll chain you to the door and bore you to death with tales of misery. And you can't hurt a pregnant woman just to escape, can you?" Irina asked with a gleam in her eyes.

HEXHAM PALACE, SKELDERGATE, ALLINGTON.

EDWINA

"ALL RIGHT. NOW LET'S GO over this once again!" Irina gleefully rubbed her hands together in excitement, bouncing on her feet with surprising agility. It had taken her hours to convince me to bring her with me, the stubborn lady refused to take no for an answer.

Glumly, I looked down at our transformed appearances. To anyone else, we looked like common attendants, with our neat, ordinary clothes and pinned up hair, faces as different as day and night from our original appearance. Muddy brown eyes, lanky black hair - a far cry from our vividly colored original appearances. Irina giggled once again, and I glared at her, letting her know how angry I was. She had literally forced herself to come, despite all my protests. She was pregnant! What if something happened to her? What if the baby came while we were in here? We couldn't even use up our powers here!

"So... I'm called Celia. And you are Faylinn. We're Lady Sarette's new handmaidens. And to get our story straight-" she bustled about her pockets, "-here are our letters of recommendation."

Two letters, stamped with the Rotavelle unicorn with the signatures forged by her clever hand.

She seemed to be more enthusiastic about this death trap than I was.

I gave her a sullen smile, and we both proceeded to the gates, my nerves wracked with worry and concern. Me getting caught I could handle, but Irina getting hurt or caught I could not bear. I just hoped everything went smoothly.

• • • • •

"My Lady Rotavelle," the huge guard declared with a proud bow, dragging us forward. "Here are your new handmaidens."

Sarette Rotavelle turned around.

Slender and willowy, with waves of brown hair and wickedly, poisonous green eyes, she had a heart shaped face which somehow countered the feeling of danger emanating from her. Sarette was the goddess of witchcraft, and Lord Emerick's younger daughter, the elder one being Olinda - the goddess of festivities and revelry. Sarette and her brother both made a deadly couple, being the deities of spells and witchcraft.

They would have been affected the most with the wards put up in Skeldergate.

Witches were often shriveled up prudes with sagging skin and cats around them. Sarette Rotavelle was nothing like that, but she was the deadliest witch I'd ever known.

She sighed, waving a silk fan breezily, then regarded us both with an annoyed glance.

"Again, idiot? I asked for a pair of handmaidens. You see me a pregnant cow and a pompous wench!" she hissed.

My blood began to boil as I balled my fists. It could not do to let my identity give away. So I took a deep breath, steeling myself.

"My Lady, my name is Faylinn. She is Celia," I gestured to Irina, and we both bowed as Sarette cackled like an old hag.

So very charming.

"You think I care what your names are?"

"We will serve at your beck and call, my Lady," Irina added with a demure smile.

She sighed, falling onto the bed with a whoosh of pillows and sinking into the cushions, then looked at me warily.

"You stay. You," she added to Irina, "get out. You're slow enough as it is with that thing in your belly. Good for nothing."

"But, my Lady-"

"-I said, get out. Now, you cow!" Sarette rolled her eyes, snapping her fingers. Irina gave me a contrite look, as I glared at her, alarmed. I was seething in anger with the insults she was flinging at my cousin. Before I could say anything, the guard began to close the door, and Irina departed giving me a last pleading look.

Wonderful.

Barely two minutes in, we were already separated. What were we going to do now?

"You," Sarette waved me over. "Rub my feet. And draw up water for a bath."

"Yes, my Lady."

"And get my garter and stockings from the laundry pile. And my corset. My green silk dress too, if you will."

I nearly spluttered with disgust but managed to keep a straight face.

"What is tonight, my Lady?" I asked. Sarette filled a shot glass with bourbon and downed it in a single gulp. Then she turned face down on the bed, giving me a mirthful smirk and watching me with an irritated look. I drew up her gown up to her hips, baring her exposed calves.

How easy would it be to just sink my knife in the backs of her knees?

"You, wench. You're not very bright, are you?"

I began to rub her calves, slowly kneading her skin and controlling myself from sinking my fingernails into that white skin.

"I'm afraid not, my Lady."

She wiggled her hips further, her silk skin glaring up at me as I continued my task, wishing I could just drag her by the ankles and hang her up from the ceiling.

"You see," Sarette drew herself up at last. "Tonight, we hold a feast."

"A - a feast, my Lady?"

She gave me a sour look.

Suddenly, she slapped me hard.

That smug little bitch.

I was still reeling from the shock as the skin cut open and a few tears of blood rolled down. My blood was up, hotter than ever before.

"I don't pay you to yap that nonsense which flows out of your filthy mouth! Keep that trap of yours shut or I'll boil you in steaming oil and string you up like a cured ham," she spat fiercely, grabbing hold of my throat and pressing it hard.

A stream of curses threatened to fly from my lips. I could have her dead for slapping me, the Queen. And yet all I could do was watch with barely concealed distaste as Sarette slipped off her gown. The green silk pooled around her feet as I picked it, and her naked body gleamed wickedly as she stepped into the steaming water.

She was dangerously beautiful. The sort of beauty which could kill men with a glance.

Sarette sighed as she sunk into the water, letting out a loud moan and tipping her head back.

"Tonight is the execution. Of Halette and Vincent Rotavelle," she muttered happily, relaxing into the bubbles, the previous encounter queerly forgotten.

For fuck's sake, Halette and Vincent were her children!

"I had Vincent first," she talked to herself, not even looking once at me as I grabbed the washcloth. "Tried to abort Halette when Rosalva confirmed it was a girl. Didn't want to give Leander a daughter. But my uncle, Cosmo, didn't let me. Bastard!" she cursed, and annoyed, I rubbed her skin with the soap as she continued airily. "And then both my children disgraced our family by warning the damned Queen. About the Wedding. Utter disgrace. That's what they both are. Spawn good for nothing."

"Oh," I said simply, trying not to appear too interested but wondering what kind of family the Rotavelles were.

"Quite a lot of plans we had, for Edwina Tremayne. But all of them first involved getting her crown off her head and on to Favian's. But that bitch-" Sarette closed her eyes, then opened them again to angrily point at her unwashed back, commanding me to rub it as well. "-that bitch. Is a handful. Sets fire wherever she pleases. Even that damned husband of hers. It wasn't fair to get them both married to each other. No one should have a right to that much power. And they hate each other. Why get married in the first place?" she demanded of no one, propping herself up against the porcelain.

Why indeed.

"But Tristan Valmont is awfully good looking, don't you think?"

"I - I have never chanced to see him, my Lady," I lied desperately, clenching my teeth hard.

"Oh, you should, girl," Sarette waved her hand. "Gorgeous black hair. Simply gorgeous. So messy and gorgeous. And those dark eyes. And his lips, oh god, his lips," she muttered, staring off into the distance. "Edwina does not know how lucky she is. If I had a husband like that, I'd helpfully let him fuck me as hard as he wanted every night for the rest of my life. Such a man."

"Yes, my Lady," I echoed along with her. Was that what all women really thought about my husband?

Gods.

"Edwina is too beautiful for her own good," Sarette was continuing animatedly, and I listened, now very interested. "Such a body. No wonder so many people hate her. It's either hate her or love her. I wish I had a waist like hers. What do you think she does to get such a perfect body? And not short either. So tall. With that hair and that eyes. Life isn't fair," she pouted. "Anyone who sees her wants to kiss her, kill her or be her. A curse to all women, is Edwina Tremayne," she said bitterly, as I processed all this information. "And very smart Lucius is too. He started teaching her to fight since the beginning. Look at her now. She swings swords better than men."

"My Lady?" I said, trying to look innocent, as I washed her back.

"If I catch that damned bitch once, I'll bind her to my table and torture her to death. Who does she think she is, huh? Bit of Belladonna should do the trick. It'll be a delight to watch that beautiful face of hers crumble away. Might fry her after in some seagrass oil - I do hear that stings a lot. And the screams, ah. Simply music to my ears..."

This goddess was no defenseless Rotavelle. I didn't know what kind of experiments this one did, but she no doubt seemed to be some sort of cannibal. Worse than one, apparently an enthusiastic sadist at that.

"Wench, go get my undergarments. I wish to be accoutered."

"Of course, my Lady," I said, looking around for a glass or goblet. I had my plan to carry out. I got her clothes from her wardrobe, glancing over her other choices. She had an exquisite, twisted taste. Whatever. To each his own.

"The fuck are you doing just standing there? Have you gone to sit and stitch my undergarments?" her loud voice came from inside.

"No, my Lady. I'm sorry, my Lady," I said, fingering the cashmere. Who in hell wore cashmere to their children's execution?

I quickly got her dressed in her underwear, and she snapped and twirled around, fussing about.

"My robe, girl."

I spotted a goblet near the dresser, and quickly garbed her in her robe. Sarette sat down on the loveseat, shimmering in her green silks, bored.

"Are you hungry, my Lady?"

"I'm thirsty. Get me something to drink."

Perfect.

I filled the goblet with bourbon, then quickly tipped into it the contents of the little glass bottle  that would put her into a deep slumber.

Sleep.

Dreamless and dark.

It would knock her out for an hour at least, and I needed to find the Felonwood from her study. Irina had been keen on poisoning her, but I saw no necessary use for it. I didn't want to kill, not unless it was absolutely needed.

"Here, my Lady, " I offered her the glass, and he took it from me, clearly annoyed with the amount of time it took.

Sarette Rotavelle drank the drink. With a leery grin, she fell back on her bed, fast asleep.

Thank Uranus.

I had to find Irina now. I had to find the Felonwood. I had to find the two Rotavelles. Time was short, and I had just one hour.

Quietly, I opened the door. Irina was in the corridor, pretending to mop the floor and stealing glances at the door, and she quickly got up, relieved.

"Thank god you came. That old hag caught me wandering about and put me to work mopping the floors-"

"-which old hag?"

"Justaline. Listen, Halette and Vincent-"

"-the are about to be executed, today, Irina. We need to hurry!" I exclaimed, but she put a hand on my shoulder.

"I know. I found them in a cell on the fourth floor. We'll go get them. But first, we need to ransack Sarette's study before she wakes up. Come on."

"Wait," I said. "You sit. Just tell me where it is."

She chuckled.

"Edwina, I know you're worried about me, but I'm not an invalid. I can walk. And I can help."

"I know," I pleaded. "But please, please, if not for me, do it for Aidon. Sit down, please. You've been mopping the floor. It isn't advisable. Not in the last month of your pregnancy," I whispered, and grudgingly, the stubborn woman sat down in a leather chair in Sarette's room.

"Well, I'll stay here. In case she wakes up."

"Good. Just wait here. I'll be back," I whispered, and Irina gave me a sad nod, settling herself. I made sure that she was comfortable, then slipped out of the room.

Sarette's study was supposed to be just along this corridor in a secluded corner. The Ivory Room. I bowed my head, hoping to look submissive, and walked past all the guards suspiciously eyeing me. Left, right, right, right, left, Irina had told me to turn. I turned the last corner, finding the entire corridor from thereon stark white with undertones of caramel.

This must be it.

"Halt," said the guards as I tried to cross the door.

"I need to go in."

"Why?" the man questioned.

"My Lady is ill. Lady Sarette. She needs Avlebore."

I had to give them some plausible sounding reason to let me go in.

The both looked at each other.

"Go and check," the first said to the other. He went, coming back a moment later.

"Flopped out like a fish on sand," he confirmed, the other giving him a roguish smirk. They lifted the spears, letting me pass.

I went in.

It was a huge, cavernous study. Lined with green silk curtains and hangings everywhere, and bookshelves all along the wall. A glass cupboard occupied a huge portion of it, filled with hundreds and hundreds of glass bottles. There were stupid things here and there, like a box of pencil shavings arranged around a wine glass rim, or lemon pulp crushed into the skins of dead rats.

What Sarette did here only Uranus knew.

This was an insane place.

It looked like the Devil's laboratory.

I quickly went to the cupboard. The chandelier above sprang to life on its own, candles lighting as I tried to read the names on all the bottles.

We needed basic ingredients, but they were available everywhere. Felonwood, however. Entirely different. Very rare. I searched through the dusty glass bottles, carefully sifting them through while my internal clock quickly ticked the minutes.

Hmm. Felonwood. Felonwood.

More bottles, filled with dark and murky liquids. A metallic smell hung in the air. I discovered the eye of a dead squid preserved in alcohol, and pressed my nose to the glass in fascinated amazement as I watched it, floating.

I frantically searched and searched and searched, careful not to touch them because it would leave fingerprints.

Finally!

A narrow, tale flute, the pale grey in colour, filled with scraps of dark colored bark.

'Dried Felonwood.'

I put it in my pocket, making my way back to the door, then remembered the Avlebore. I quickly grabbed one of its tiny vials off the shelf, not putting it in my pocket but keeping it in my hand. I was making my way out when I stopped, seeing something.

It was a scrap of dark blue fabric lined with gold.

I picked it up, feeling the rumpled cloth. It smelled of sweat. A man's sweat. My footsteps quietly edged towards the cupboards near it, past a little barrack which was filled with a group of silver bottles. They were tiny but made of painted ceramic, the air smelling strongly of acidic vinegar.

Someone had kept it hidden here. It was important.

I looked at the piece of cloth in my hand again. The person had been wearing blue and gold... apparently they had something to do with these shiny silver bottles. Suddenly, it struck me and I nearly shrieked.

Valmont colors.

Blue and gold.

A Valmont had been here. Or someone posing as one - a Valmont in the laboratory of the witch herself.

I had to - I had to go back.

I must be over thinking, I thought. Anyone could be wearing blue and gold. Anyone could be wearing it. A Grendel. A Halfling. A mortal. But none except a god could ever be allowed within those doors.

Time was running out.

I tucked the piece of cloth into my pocket and grabbed one of the little silver bottles. I had to get it tested - I had to know precisely what Sarette was making here. I made my way to the door to ensure I had everything I needed.

Felonwood to wake the three gods? Check.

Avlebore to fool the guards? Check.

The shiny little bottle? Check.

I opened the door.

"Did you get what you need?" the guard asked. I cheekily smiled at him and showed him the Avlebore. He nodded in understanding and let me pass. I walked back through the ivory corridor, suddenly chancing upon a sudden turning I had not noticed before.

Hmm. I still had some time left.

I could go and check on Vincent and Halette.

Fourth floor, Irina had told me.

I walked down the steps through the rickety little passage, dingy little steps that creaked, making them sound as if they were built centuries ago. The brackets of fire along the intervals on the wall kept on getting smaller, then finally disappeared as I reached a dark, damp place. It was mostly darkness, heavy with a queer, musty smell. I knew it. It was the smell of blood.

Quietly I treaded my way through.

I had been right.

The faces were still the same. Their clothes were loose, ordinary, but all the wrists and ankles were fettered, driven to poles on the floor.

"Edwina!" Halette cried with joy, as Vincent clamped a hand over her mouth, beckoning to be quiet. "What are you doing here?"

"Shh-"

"I swear I heard Irina talking to Justaline. Is she here as well?" she asked, as Vincent's eyes gleamed with curiosity.

"Yes," I whispered, "Irina and I are here. To get you out - but what have they been doing to you?"

"You need to leave, you'll get killed if they find out!" Halette exclaimed.

"They've been fattening us up. Like sheep for slaughter. They're going to execute us. For treason," Vincent said sadly, and I moved the light to see the chains at his wrists.

"Okay. Now listen," I said softly, my voice still echoing a bit. "I'm going to get you both out of here. But I need you to do something first-"

"-what if they find out!"

"They won't," I said confidently. Damn those cruel, cursed Rotavelles. All because of Emerick. Halette and Vincent were immortals. Not animals. The Rotavelles planned to plump them up, turn their death into entertainment. I felt sick. Those people were cruel. Pure cruel. And the things I had seen in Sarette's study? I needed to do what I needed to do fast.

"When the guard comes in to give you your next meal, Halette, I want you to complain about how sleepy you are feeling. Vincent, you tell her to go to sleep. The guard will take the cue, and won't disturb you for some time. And don't explicitly say anything to him, is that clear?"

She sniffed, and I could see tear tracks glistening on her face as I pulled her in to hug her and she shook uncontrollably in my arms.

"I don't want to die," Halette sobbed.

"You're not going to die. I forbid you to," I said firmly, getting up. "Wait for me here. I'll come back quickly with Irina, then we'll free you and we can escape."

"Alright, your Grace," Vincent said hoarsely. I gave them an unconvincing smile, then started to make my way back to the corridor. Thankfully no one suspected me, for I grabbed an empty plate on my way out, and anyone who saw me guessed I had been taking food to the prisoners. I kept my head bowed and walked briskly, ears alert for any sign of danger. My pace increased as I heard an ear splitting shriek from Sarette's room.

Irina.

Quickly, I ran, sprinting, poised to draw my dagger out if need be, and burst into the room, alarmed.

Irina was on the floor, writhing in agony, trying to move and drawing huge breaths, rubbing her stomach. She saw me, alarmed, panic crossing her vivid emerald eyes, and I noticed the hourglass on the shelf showing that we had only ten minutes before Sarette woke up.

I also noticed the pool of fluid around Irina's feet.

The baby was coming.

• • • • •

Y'all... Sarette is a real bitch (witch.) She's the devil reincarnated, and that laboratory of hers... It's dangerous. And the cloth Edwina found? Try guessing who it could belong to *wink* You're gonna see the effects pretty soon!! And if I were you, I'd be very, very, very worried about the baby :( let's hope nothing happens to our girls, and stay tuned for the drama next chapter xD