“Take this,” he said, tossing her a small fabric sack.
Catching it out of the air, she recognized it as the pillow she’d brought from home. She opened it, scanning the interior. Everything was there except for her mother’s vial.
“Looking for this?” Turio held out his other hand, opening it to reveal the pearlescent bottle.
Aizel looked from the bottle to his face. Surely, he wanted something else from her or he would not have withheld the vial to begin with.
He held her gaze for a moment, then tossed the bottle to her.
She caught the bottle before it crashed to the ground. Clutching it to her chest for a moment to regain her composure, she used her thumb to gently nudge the metal lid open.
The sweet aroma of the lotus oil instantly hit her nose. She raised the bottle higher to inhale the familiar scent. She wasn’t sure why he was returning it to her, but she relished the small piece of home.
“The prince should arrive later today,” Turio said. “He will be escorting you back to Chendas. You will carry out your task and report back to the marble palace. No one can know you are working on behalf of the great king, or your sister dies.” Turio’s face was far too happy to be making such a statement.
Aizel inhaled, knowing she would have to see this horrible thing through. For someone who appeared so weak, Turio was more calculatedly cruel than any of the brutish taskers Aizel had ever known.
“You must also bring proof that Erich is dead.” The white beard continued to wag stiffly under the old man’s mouth. “I have prepared all the particulars for today. Everything else should go quite simply for you.” He sounded as though he expected her to thank him.
“Quite simply?” Aizel wanted to ask, the words stopping in her throat. “What about this is simple? Why does the prince have to die? What threat does he pose to the king? And how am I supposed to actually... you know, do the thing?”
“Excellent. No questions?” Turio asked.
She definitely had questions. Aizel reached up pointing to the ribbon around her neck as she glared at the old man.
Turio smiled. Somehow, it made his expression harder instead of softer. “You wish to speak? I hardly think your voice could add anything to this conversation. It is much better if you simply listen.”
Minkus—no Mingus, that was his name—scoffed from his place in the doorway.
Aizel did not think Turio was funny in the slightest. She opened the cloth sack and carefully placed the vial inside.
“I wish you luck,” Turio said.
Aizel glared at him. She doubted that.
“No, really, I genuinely hope you succeed.”
“Why? Why are you going to such great lengths to kill this young man?”She yelled her frustration in her head.
He turned to leave and Mingus stepped away from the doorway. “Oh, wait.” Turio stopped moving. “I forgot to mention something. That old vial? I added a few drops of poison to the perfume inside. That should come in handy, I would expect. No...” He looked over his shoulder, holding up his hand. “. . . need to thank me.”
Aizel stared back at him in horror. She had just inhaled the scent of the vial. Would the poison affect her because of that? If she had wanted to bathe before, she felt filthy now.
As the door closed behind Turio and Mingus, Aizel sank back to the ground. She wanted to open her sack and examine the vial, but she was too afraid to touch it.
Perhaps it would make her job easier, but the thought sickened instead of soothed her.
She was beginning to feel sorry for this Quotidian prince who had no idea what he was up against. She would not wish Turio upon her worst enemy.
She tried to remember the stranger she had saved from the sea. For the brief moment his eyes were open underwater, they had seemed honest and perhaps even kind. But he had been begging her to help him. Of course, he had been honestly begging!
If only she could befriend the Quotidian prince and work with him against their mutual enemy.
Chapter 14
After traveling back to the monastery in record time, Erich felt surprisingly calm at the sight of the ocean. With his newfound reaction to water, he was afraid the sight of the sea itself would cause him to go into a waking panic. But the waves crashing over the beach below the monastery did nothing more than provide a tranquil background sound.
It had been nearly six weeks since he had left the monastery, and his nightmares had continued almost every night. Perhaps they would cease, now that he had been able to see the ocean again without fear.
