27. Aurelia

Chapter 27

Aurelia

I n the week that followed, I attempted to keep my regular hours—the ones I used to employ in the village. It soon became apparent, however, that those hours made everyone nervous. On day three the queen herself tried to chase me out of the work shed, telling me I was going to burn myself out.

I'd stared at her stupidly for a moment. "I've been keeping these hours for.. . over ten years. I'll be fine, I promise. I'm used to this."

The look she'd given me—the look everyone had given me—was full of sorrow and compassion—andpity. That part made me highly uncomfortable. Just to get away from it, I'd excused myself as though I were taking their worry to heart. Instead, under the guise of resting, I'd gone back to my journals, attempting to pinpoint where the other production village might've been. That, or I hit the books in the extensive library, working on several things to keep my mind fresh on any given product or counter-product.

When it was time to wind down, I decided to look into a painting class and learn about mixing colors. The teacher, Liron, was a donkey's twat, a colorful term Hadriel had taught me, but he did know his stuff. Most days, at some point or another, one or more of my reading crew would join me in the work shed, out of the way of the others, and read while I worked. After that, I lost myself in cooking, ate with Weston, wrote in my journal, then usually made love to Weston and went to bed.

I'd never felt so fulfilled. Previously, I'd done all of this alone or with a coworker who distrusted and disliked me. Being around people I enjoyed and respected—having real friends—was a sort of happiness so big I didn't know it could fit inside me. My heart was continually bursting, making me tear up randomly, touching a shoulder in thanks or hooking an arm through Hadriel's or Vemar's as we walked. I loved it.

I also loved my new coworkers. The women hadn't thawed so much as I'd just learned how they worked. They were like a dance, moving around and within the work shed, humming often and chatting seldom, content to work the plants and make their brews. They'd spend time in the garden every day, manhandling their Everlass and checking on everything else. They were all great with greenery, though none so diligent and thorough as the queen. They even nursed my Moonfire Lily into blooming health, the slow throb of color illuminating the dragon weed every night amidst the speckles of light from the emberflies.

Then there was Vemar, the new guardian of my asshole. I had no idea what that meant, only that it was a kinda-sorta, half-literal inside joke with him and Hadriel. Vemar was the best coworker I could ask for. He flowed with me like a synchronized dance. I barely had to ask for things; I could just look up for what I needed and he'd fill my hand with it. When he needed something, I reciprocated. He worked our contraptions right alongside me, learning the craft in no time, completely unafraid and constantly inquisitive, getting the handle of the heat and quickly understanding my instruction. He spoke when it felt right and was content to work in silence when the mood called for it, his finger on the pulse of those around him. In just that week, I knew I'd be lost without him.

At the end of the week, I was finally ready with my Granny lookalike coating. It was time to unveil it to the queen.

I let myself out of Weston's chambers, where I now spent my nights. The hall was deserted, as it was most mornings.

Constantly rolling around inside my head were various ideas of things I could improve, things I could attempt, and various new insights I'd gleaned from working with the genius that existed in that work shed.

I'd been so caught up in my work that it took me a minute to notice the presence behind me, a soft footfall on the hard wood.

I glanced back, vaguely recognizing the uniform colors—burnt orange, which meant food collection for the kitchen staff. What were they doing all the way down this hall? Usually, Burt took care of that at a "decent" hour, finding me in the work shed or tracking me down in the library, but maybe they were changing things up. Were they sent to inquire personally if I needed anything?

Slowing a little, I started to turn to ask just that.

The man, not much taller than me, with a slight build—definitely not a dragon—had slicked-back hair, allowing me to see his pockmarked cheeks, indicating bad skin in his youth. Which was... odd for a shifter. Maybe he'd been here during the curse, suppressed within the castle and unable to heal.

He slowed with me, his head tipped down and his dark eyebrows lifted so that he could peer at me from under them. That was usually the sign that the staff didn't want to be intrusive.

So then . . . not here for me.

Frowning, wondering if maybe he was dropping off an early dish for someone's valet or maid, I turned back around and picked up the pace again. His footfalls sped up as well, though he kept a respectable distance.

I resumed thinking about my concoctions, but the ideas were splintered; I was too distracted by the man to regain my focus.

"Something isn't right with that one," my wolf said, pulling forward what was niggling at me.

His gait had been off for a member of the castle staff, hadn't it? His lack of poise.

Often workers in the castle had straight posture and an air of busy importance, or so I'd always thought. Even the people who dusted and swept seemed to embody the grandness of the establishment. This guy sort of... lumbered, his shoulders rounded and his weight shifting from one foot to the other with each step, as though he were looking for a street brawl.

I glanced back again, finding his red-brown eyes focused on me. A sudden wave of unease washed through me right before his gaze sliced right and he dropped his head again, slowing his walk.

"I don't sense danger," my wolf said.

Neither did I. But all the same, thoughts of Granny flashed through my mind. There hadn't been any other instances since the drugs flooded the market a week ago, but that didn't mean she'd retreated. She would have people watching, wouldn't she? Keeping tabs on me?

My breath came faster as I debated what to do. Should I just accost him, maybe? Ask his name and demand to know why he was in this hall? It might be as simple as his being someone's bed bunny and trying to get out before he was noticed. Then again, it could be someone learning my schedule.

What if he had a weapon, though? What if he had backup waiting around some of the corners I had yet to turn down or pass? I had barely started training. I was in no shape for knife work if he had one on him. Right now, he was keeping his distance. I had room to run.

Biting my lip in indecision, I waited a little longer, until I was near the foyer. If I got into trouble, someone would see me.

I slowed, then stopped to turn. His footfalls lightened and then stopped. I had spun just in time to see his clothes hit the floor, as though the person inside them vanished.

"There!" my wolf shouted as a bit of fabric moved.

A rat ran out of the neck hole, scurrying away down the hall at blinding speeds. I didn't even know shifters could be rats. Or that rats could run that fast.

"Move!" my wolf shouted, tearing at me to get out of the way. "Let me out. I'll catch him."

I ripped at my clothes, barely getting them off before my wolf had taken over. She put on a burst of speed, sprinting down the hall in the direction the rat had run. In the moment it took to shift, though, we'd lost sight of him.

She stopped at his clothes, picking up his scent before taking off again.

"What if he's leading us into a trap?" I said frantically as she reached the first corner and sniffed.

"Our mate is close, and a host of wolves and dragons surround us." She reached the next corner and caught the scent to the right. "If they take us, they won't get far."

She was fine being bait, it seemed.

That wasn't a pleasant realization.

Down the corridor, the scent started to disintegrate. By the time we got around the next turn, we could feel Weston on the move, clearly having felt our emotions and hurrying to investigate or help.

Another turn had us staring at a small exit up ahead glowing with the watery light of the misty morning.

"Shit," my wolf muttered, speeding to the door as the lingering scent began to drift away.

She moved aside so that I could resume our human form. I pushed open the door and hesitantly stepped out into the chilly morning air. A wide gravel path curved away through leafy bushes glistening with moisture. Visibility was cut down to just this little stoop, where none of the flora so much as shivered with the passage of a body, big or small.

"Do we follow?" I asked out loud, my senses in human form not as keen, unable to tell if there was a scent trail to pursue.

"No. We were already losing him. Out in nature, there's no chance. A wolf or larger animal might've raised notice with the patrol, but a rat? He'll be able to hide easily and sneak out with any deliveries or castle visitors. He's beyond us. Let's tell our mate so that they can search for the scent inside. Perhaps it will lead us to others."

I turned and started to run, smacking into a body with an " Oof. " Leala bumped back, staggering, the tip of her whip shivering as she struggled to stay on her feet.

"Sorry." I grabbed her.

"What is it?" she asked before she'd even regained her balance. "I saw your discarded clothes and followed your scent. What'd you see?"

It seemed as though the first person to find and help us was my lady's maid—and her trusty whip.

"He's gone. Let's get Weston."

It turned out that uniform had gone missing several days prior. No one had remembered seeing a person matching the man's description. No one could remember coming across his scent, left behind on his discarded clothes. Weston had distributed those clothes so that the patrol and guard could track him down as he inevitably tried to flee the kingdom, but nothing turned up. He'd been a ghost—a ghost that had gotten into the castle unnoticed and been able to gain access to me. While I was alone.

My wolf trusted that our mate would've intercepted if the rat had been able to drag me away, and I agreed with her. It was one thing to visit the castle and slip into the kitchens, keeping one's head down and even roaming around. One guy minding his own business wouldn't really be noticed, especially on food collection detail. Grabbing the resident captive and wrestling her out of the castle, across the grounds, through the woods? That was another thing entirely.

That was not good enough for Weston. That morning, with the king's blessing, he started an overhaul of the castle's security. His goal was to ensure something like that could never happen again.

Watching my mate, thorough and excellent at his job, had filled me with pride.

Now, though, as I finally got to my work—with no strangers allowed within the vicinity of the garden—the reality of the morning's events seeped in. Maybe that guy wasn't one of Granny's, and maybe it wasn't even me he was after, but it was a stark reminder that I wasn't safe here. Maybe I wasn't safe on my own. I needed to heed the warning.

"Walk me through it," Finley said, leaning over the table to look at my five little balls of beige product. She'd been all business since I arrived, having heard what happened but not commenting. I was grateful. She seemed to realize losing myself in work and pushing away the fear that Granny would force me back into the life I'd left behind was the thing I needed most right now.

I pointed at the first. "The most like Granny's"—I pointed at the last—"what she was going for"—I pointed at those in between—"and my trial and error. It took me a while to create something shitty enough to resemble what Granny's people did. Then, because I couldn't help myself?—"

"You didn't want to help yourself," Vemar supplied, quietly enraged that I'd had to deal with that guy this morning on my own. Even just sitting next to him raised the small hairs on my arms. I had a feeling he was about to get a lot more intense in his bodyguarding duty. He reached up to grab one of our contraptions now lining the back shelf.

"Fine. I wanted to see if I could make something that wasn't shitty. Anyway, this last product should create the hook in half the time while creating almost no sickness. It's safe. It won't kill anyone unless there is a lot of it in the bloodstream."

"I didn't feel any sickness." Vemar sat back down.

"Me either. The build-up effect was drastically cut as well, hence being able to have a lot. Have five in a twenty-four-hour period and you're going to throw up. I don't know how many it would take to die. My product would be very bad for the mind if someone were to take more than five doses in a short period of time. I doubt anyone would or could."

"Wait." Finley held up her hand while squeezing her eyes shut. "Are you telling me you ingested this stuff?"

I frowned at her. "Of course. I had to test it."

She pointed down at the last beige round. "You ate five of these in twenty-four hours and just, what? Hoped you wouldn't die?"

"I was on hand with Hannon's special brew." Vemar winked at Hannon sitting in the corner. His face was devoid of his usual good-humored expression. Instead, his blue eyes had a poignant sort of focus. His lips were pursed in a straight line, his body relaxed but expectant, as though he might be called upon to battle at any moment.

No one was taking the security breech well. I was quickly learning that the dragon kingdom might sparkle and shine like a well-polished gold coin, but the people here had grown up fighting. Struggling to stay alive. They were ready, able, and more than willing to defend their homes, and would do so with a vicious sort of aggression I likely couldn't comprehend. I could be in no better place to face the threat of Granny.

I had to keep reminding myself of that, lest the fear start picking away at my courage to push on.

"It should be me trying those things," Hannon responded.

"Nah." Vemar waved him away. "Then you'd have this horrible itch to consume more of it. It's not pleasant."

"Yeah." I wiped my face. "That elixir you guys make to stave off addiction is much too slow."

" Much too slow," Vemar agreed.

"How do you test your products?" I asked them. Arleth and Delaney were gathered around the table as well.

"On people who need it," Finley responded as though I were daft.

I lifted my brow. "You give test samples to your patients? Isn't that... dicey?"

"If we don't have the ailment that needs to be cured, how will we know the product worked to cure that ailment?" Finley returned.

Vemar and I shrugged at each other. She had a point.

"Right. So." I blew out a breath. "This is what we're working with. I have a lot of ideas to counter this stuff. It should work on Granny's coating like a dream. I'll test that, obviously. If I am captured by her and forced to work because she threatens children or something—which doesn't seem above her, to be honest—you will know how to counter the best of my addictive products."

Vemar's rage spiked, sending the other dragons into their own hum of aggression. Hannon adjusted in his seat, leaning against the wall projecting pseudo-calm. The guy seemed to always look unruffled, and I had a feeling his killing you would then be quite the shock.

"No one will capture you and live to tell the tale," Vemar growled. The women nodded, Finley's intense agreement sending my stomach rolling.

Taking a page out of Hadriel's book, I said sarcastically, "Great. What a load off." Hannon started to laugh. It made me realize I hadn't yet seen Hadriel that morning.

"Does Weston know you took these?" Finley demanded, obviously stuck on our testing practices.

"No," I answered, organizing the samples out of the way. "He'd be pissed. It would be nice if you didn't tell him. I'm fine. Vemar is fine. All is well. The worst is over."

Finley looked at Arleth, who was studying me. Neither commented.

"Great. That's that, then. You guys wanted to learn how to make the product on the market, right?" With a cleared workspace, I pulled a list over. "Let's start with Product X. That's the stuff to stave off pregnancy. People here have a lot of sex—a lot more than in my old village. My own stock is running low, and I don't want to resort to that horrible tea. Here's a list of ingredients. I'll let the gardeners among you collect them while I pull out the right contraptions."

"Which we don't need yet, but it's a good excuse not to have to help them," Vemar mumbled. I elbowed him. That was supposed to be a secret.

After they'd looked over the list and checked the things they currently had cooking, Arleth and Delaney opted to collect the ingredients.

"So, all of this is made with Everlass, huh?" I pointed at the many steaming and cooking items around the room. Special vents had been put in the roof of the work shed to whisk away all the smoke and scents.

Finley didn't glance behind her. "Almost all of it. What are those?" She pointed at the contraptions I'd pulled out.

"It's easier just to show you. So how do you work those leaves? I saw you dry them. Then you... what, just boil and steam them?"

"Dry them at different times of the day, inside or out, to alter the properties as we need. Then we boil or simmer or cold-brew them and mix them with various other ingredients that further enhance the properties."

"Ah." I nodded. "I knew there was some complexity to it. So, you really need a vast understanding of plants."

"Yes."

"Gotcha. Have you tried burning it?"

She stared at me for a moment. "No."

"Freezing it? Pressurizing it? Lighting it on fire and then quickly freezing it?"

Still staring. "No."

"Micro-blowing it up?"

"What is that?" Vemar leaned over.

I grinned at him. "You'll love that. No glass to pick out of one's person."

"No," Finley responded.

I nodded as the others walked back in, placing down bunches of greenery without a speck of dirt in sight. "Think of all the possibilities left for you to explore. What is this?"

Arleth and Delaney paused, Arleth still holding the list. She frowned, looking over it and checking what was on the table. "The fresh ingredients are there"—she gestured at the pile—"and we're grabbing the dried ones now."

"The dried ones?" I picked through the "fresh" ingredients. "This is undoubtedly a dumb question, but is this their natural color? I assume the vibrant green probably is, but the flowers of this one are blue. I thought they were supposed to be a light sort of purple?"

It turned out Raz and his helpers were very bad gardeners, and Vemar and Hannon thought my confusion—especially as it concerned the necessity of drying plants—was hilarious.

"At least I don't have to wash off the dirt," I finally said. "Thanks for that. Time saver. Okay, let's get started with the expectation that this might go horribly wrong with these healthy plants and I might need to tweak the instructions."

Thankfully, I didn't have to tweak as much as I'd thought. In fact, in many cases the plants were easier to work with, probably because they weren't half dead and had more moisture with which to reduce the heat. I didn't have to be nearly as careful.

When I'd finished the instruction, Finley looked at the others, eyebrows raised. "That was.. ."

"Technical," Arleth said quietly.

"Complicated." Delaney shook her head.

"What happens next?" Finley asked.

"Oh. Well then I just do it again and again until the order is filled," I replied. "For this one, I'll use the plants up, since they're picked. You can decide if I keep it all for myself or if you trust me enough to let others consume it. For the other products, I guess I'll just show you how with a sample, since you don't want to do anything with it?"

We did several batches of the next products, and each time only Finley seemed to catch on—but only moderately so. It was clear these ladies' talents were in experimenting with various plant properties: how best to grow them, how they were used best and what for. I was better at the more technical applications of pressure and heat, and had to rely on books to tell me the facts they had in their heads. All of it was just as complex, but a completely different facet of production. It was fascinating. I couldn't wait to learn more.

At the end of my agreed-upon day, I tidied everything up and started on the labels for what we'd finished but hadn't cut into batches.

"What are you doing?" Vemar looked over my handiwork. Finley turned to see, pausing in hanging something on a line to dry.

"Just labeling so we know what is what tomorrow morning."

He watched for a moment, his version of trying to figure out what I'd said. "Why?" he finally asked.

I paused and then half straightened up. "Oh." I looked at Finley watching me, and then the workstations of the others who'd gone out for a while. "Uh.. ." I dropped my hands. "Force of habit, I guess. In the village I'd label the product just in case Raz whirlwinded through and ransacked my desk for items I might use to kill him with—the drugs made him uncommonly paranoid. Or maybe I did. Either way, I always labeled the products so I'd know what was what after he'd scattered it around."

There was that damn look again.

I hated that look.

"Never mind." I bent to continue the labels.

Vemar's hand covered my wrist. "No, Captive Lady," he said quietly. Compassionately. "You don't need to do that here. If you are hiding things with which to kill us, we will laugh with glee when you try to use them."

I huffed, chuckling and pulling my hands away again.

"Yeah, I guess— Actually, no." I pushed his hand gently away and went back to my labels. "Sorry, this is part of my process, and it'll mess with my head if I don't do it. I'll spend all evening worrying about it and end up here in the middle of the night writing out labels because the job wasn't finished."

Vemar straightened up. "Well then, is it going to fuck with your noggin if I help?"

"You really don't have to?—"

"That's not what I asked."

I gave him a crooked smile. "No, it'll just make the job go faster."

"Great." He set to work alongside me even though he thought it was a frivolous effort.

"Thank you," I told him, tearing up again. Damn these people and their touching qualities.

He shrugged. "There's an art to guarding assholes. You never know when you'll meet a broom handle."

Finley snorted a laugh, and I could only imagine how those two things correlated.

The next day, I had barely sat down to my journals and more depressing memories when an angry knock sounded at the door.

I froze. A flashback of Alexander doing the same thing caused a spike of fear.

"I can get that, miss." Leala came from the washroom, where she'd set down some new bath items to try.

"No." I stood quickly and stuck out my hand to stop her.

It couldn't be Alexander. The entire castle had been checked over yesterday and throughout the night, to make sure everyone in the castle was supposed to be here. They hadn't found anyone out of place or any lingering scents that didn't belong. They'd even sent a small shifter through tight spaces. All visitors now had to be logged in, and there were more guards stationed around the grounds. In addition, likenesses of both Granny and Alexander had been drawn and posted, as well as any known employees. The castle was locked down. It couldn't be Alexander at my door.

Knowing that still didn't do much to slow down my rampaging heart.

I wiped the sudden perspiration from my face. "Sorry. Old demons, as they say. I'll get it, just in case it's"—I shrugged—"dangerous."

Her smile was confident as she stepped around my hand. "I can handle it just fine, miss."

I followed her anyway. I would never forgive myself if this was an unwelcome surprise and she was caught in the crossfire.

Cecil stood in the hall, his hands on his hips and his face screwed up in annoyance.

"Yes?" Leala said.

"Yes?" Cecil repeated angrily. " Yes? I tell you yes . She has ordered clothes and no pickup. Where has she been? They are just waiting for her, all the time. Just waiting."

Before I could step in, Leala tilted her head. "And did you send word to me that I should bring her up to get the final fitting?"

He froze with narrowed eyes.

"Exactly. We can't read your mind, Cecil. When would you like her to come up?"

"She comes now. Come, come." He took a step away, waited a moment, and then gestured harder. "Come!"

Leala turned back to me. "You do need clothes, miss. The ones you brought are threadbare, and Hadriel's don't fit you properly."

"Yeah, it's okay. I'll go. Do I need anything?"

"You need just yourself," Cecil said. "Come!"

"The guards are posted in the halls, but I'll still go with you, just in case." Leala smiled at me, stepping out ahead of me.

"Okay." I hurried after Cecil, who was already walking down the hall.

When we were nearly to the main staircase, little feet caught my attention. There were very few children in the castle. Sometimes visitors would bring them, but to my knowledge, Princess Tabitha was the only child in residence. I had only really seen her in person the one time, otherwise getting glimpses as she ran through the halls or was helped up the stairs or was in Mommy or Daddy's arms. Each time I'd stopped and watched; I'd always enjoyed seeing children's joy and love. When I worked for Granny, I'd gotten to play with a few in the village square—their parents turned a blind eye to it when they wouldn't dare talk to me themselves. I cherished the time and always had so much fun. I never stayed too long, though, not wanting to press my luck.

I paused and watched the little girl tottering. I'd been told she was just over a year old. She evaded her nanny's grasp with a hand stretched out and a "No!"

"What are you doing?" Cecil stopped just ahead. "Come!"

Tabitha caught sight of me and slowed a bit, sticking her finger in her mouth. A moment later, a look of surprise and delight raced across her little face. She put out her hands and said, "Ah!" before running in my direction.

I bent to one knee, unable to help my own wide smile, waiting for her to get to me.

"Hi, Tabitha!" I exclaimed, keeping my hands down so that she didn't get confused and think to hug me. The king's body language and general scariness made it pretty clear he didn't want strange women touching his daughter.

She didn't slow, though, barreling into me and laughing.

"Oh, whoa!" I lost my balance and tipped over, falling onto my butt. I made an oof! sound for fun, but tried to discourage her from coming closer. "Oh no, honey, no, you can't climb into Aurry's lap."

She did a toddler wrestle, wiggling into my arms and sitting down between my crossed legs. Immediately she started babbling as I looked at her nanny in alarm. Leala crossed to the woman immediately, unease in her expression as well.

The nanny waited to approach. Was this why they weren't worried about Granny? Did they know I'd end up dead at the hands of a big gold dragon?