Page 11 of Elysian

“Perfect!” He patted my shoulder.

I scooted off the chair and carefully took hold of the tray. The circular tubes swung slightly as I lifted the tray. Al always wanted in-progress ‘projects’ to be shelved on a specific bookcase.

I shuffled away, slowly so I did not break anything. A sure way to send Al into a spiral was to make a mistake. Their hushed conversation reached my ears.

“Let her work for me. I will fetch her and return her to her cell. You may even assign that boy of yours to escort her.”

“Last time she served you, she managed to speak to the prophet. And look where that led.” Vaner’s tone remained even, but the thread of anger couldn’t be missed.

“You make an appropriate point,” Al huffed. “Have officers present with the order to not let her out of their sight. We both have a vested interest in the Elysian Pair. She must be as close to good health as possible. Both of them. Otherwise, my results could be compromised.”

Silence.

I reached the far corner shelves, located opposite to where it swung open into the private area where the prophet had been.

“What good is it if she’s comatose? I will not be able to have proper results,” Al insisted.

I did not turn to see how Vaner had responded, but I assumed he agreed based on Al’s exhale of relief. I crouched to reach the second to last shelf that was empty, and placed the tray down, sliding it to the side.

When I stood, a body pressed against my back, invading my nose with a moss ball scent. I inhaled sharply. Vaner flattened his palm against my belly.

“It is best to understand that which one wants to destroy.” His breath touched the shell of my ear. I studied a few beakers set upon the third shelf from the top, holding as still as possible. “Try escaping again, and you will regret it.” His hand tightened on my stomach even more, pulling me back against him. A wave of nausea rose, and panic crept up my throat. “Do you understand?”

“Yes, Lord Vaner,” I whispered.

With a grunt and a final dig of his fingertips into my flesh, he released me. I listened to the retreat of his footsteps. He wanted to destroy me. But not yet. Not until Al had what he needed. That ‘not yet’ was the only weapon I had.

“Interested in them, eh?” he murmured. Al tapped the shelf I was at eye level with. It took me a moment to claw out of the dark hole my mind burrowed into. He was talking about the experiments.

“That is a trial potion I am working on perfecting. It stops bowel movements for a period of time. I am attempting to extend the timeframe.” The sickly sweet taste of me expelling it into the feeder wing toilet speared my memory. They had fed me this when I had lost consciousness for a fortnight.

I craned my neck to read the scrawl on the parchment.

Subject did not heal . . .

“And this one?”

“I am studying Lady Drusilla’s healing ability to create this one. I can taste the atom bonds needed, but I cannot quite duplicate the healing. We almost lost that young redblood servant because it did not work.” He chortled. “That is why she lost feeling in the nerves of her foot when the ligament in her knee did not heal. Bah, I will figure it out. Perhaps by using His Highness’ blood,” he muttered under his breath. He perked up again. “You were always much better behaved than Lucinda.” He shook his head. “The brat knew how to test my patience.” A fondness coated his tone.

Just as suddenly, he clapped once. “Come, come, Vaner will send over some officers to escort you to a private bathing and toilet area. You would enjoy bathing, yes?”

“Yes.”

“Eat some more. We need to get some more meat on your bones.” He nudged the plate of bread he had offered me when I first entered. I gingerly sat down and took another loaf.

Drusilla’s shout echoed eerily, the hollow sound resonating through the hall where I froze at the cell entrance. Neither of the officers on either side of me reacted. One was the man who’d been with Egan and me at the brothel. The same man who had stopped the other brutish officer from beating me unconscious. His name continued to elude me.

The other was the officer that had been ordered to escort me to the feeder wing during the ball. He stopped to shove a key into the lock and turned it. The door mechanism began to crank and turn as the metal door shut.

After utilizing the toilet chamber, I had bathed, rubbing every inch of my body with care, taking my time to soak in the large tub. Despite how much I scrubbed, it did not matter how much I rubbed at my chest, the warmth did not return.

I met the dark-haired officer’s gaze. His blue eyes were serious and observant. He didn’t seem this attentive when we were at the brothel. He jerked his chin down the path, and I trudged down the incline. Torches lined the side of the wall, their flames flickering ominously across the stones, enhancing the shadowed divots.

“You damned boy.”

Grief filled her voice.

The fact that Drusilla was calling the centuries old creature a ‘boy’ said exactly what I faced. Drusilla was . . . an interloper in the body she wore. The very thing Vaner had tried to do to me on Nocturn.