The door opened wider, and the servant rushed past without seeing her. Anais waited a few moments. The door didn’t close. She slipped inside.
This room was larger with two open windows that weren’t enough to dispel the horrid scent. A long table occupied one wall of the room, similarly encumbered as the table outside. The small burners, mortar and pestle, and multitude of glass containers reminded Anais of Laureline’s workroom.
Bent over the table was a thin man dressed in the blue robes of a healer. His robes were trimmed in gold. His back was to her, and his attention was focused on what appeared to the source of the smell. Steam twisted above a gently bubbling pot. He stirred with a wooden spoon.
Quietly, in a deferential tone, Anais inquired, “Lord Frances?”
“Yes, what is it?”
She shut the door.
He spun, a deep scowl furrowing his brows. “Open that this instance! Can't you smell the fumes, you idiot–”
His words choked off when her claws closed around his neck. Another few seconds passed as he took in her appearance. His cheeks paled.
Her claws dug into his neck. “Do you recognize me? You may call me Queen when you speak – and I suggest you speak quickly.” Her head tilted to the side. “You poisoned Castien.”
“No!” His eyes widened, and he began to shake his head, but he thought better of it. “Not poison. He isn’t ill. He’s…”
She leaned in slightly and purred, “‘Not poison, my Queen.’”
His throat moved beneath her hand. “Q-Queen Anais.”
“Yes. And you tortured my Escort. Don’t deny it.”
“I… I only did what my Queen commanded! Please. The conditioning did him no harm!”
“No harm?” Her other hand grabbed his wrist. The claw of her thumb stabbed between the bones of his arm. She squeezed silent the scream rising from his throat. “Shh. It’s just a little wound. You’ll heal. It’s harmless.”
When the man was about the pass out, she loosened her grip.
He coughed and gasped. “That wasn’t… The pain wasn’t necessary for the conditioning! I didn’t ask my Queen to… At least, I don’t think it’s necessary. Other subjects showed no signs of…”
Anais reined in her anger and shook the man. “Tell me how to remove the conditioning. Talk faster!”
“I can’t… I mean, I’ve never tried… But I’m certain it can be done! I need time, highness. I need my hands – both of them. Please…”
She slowly withdrew her claw, taking a little satisfaction in his whimpers of pain. “If you don’t know, then I don’t need you.”
He blanched. She wondered if he might faint. “Y-you'll never free him without me. The conditioning has stabilized. He'll seem perfectly normal, but he belongs to my Queen now. You'll never reach his mind if you kill me!”
She played with his hand, threading her fingers with his, drawing a bloody trail on his palm. “Do you need your toes? Perhaps I’ll take your tongue. Your teeth. Your fingernails. One bone at a time from your hands. There are so many in a human body. You don’t need them all.”
“I only did what the Queen demanded,” he pleaded again. “I-I couldn’t disobey her.”
“And you won’t disobey me. Tell me. How. To remove. The conditioning.”
His voice was a quavering whisper. “You’ll kill me.”
She crooned, “I’ll kill you quickly.”
He cried, “He only responds to me! I have to be the one to remove it!”
“I don’t believe you.”
Yelena wouldn’t allow anyone else so much control. But was Anais willing to risk Castien’s sanity on the slim chance that she was wrong?
The man whimpered, “Please, highness, mercy. I can undo the conditioning, I swear. Please–”
