The Empress's Laboratory
As Barcas handed the priest a bundle of parchment bearing the identities of the dead, he turned his head to look at her. Thalia hastily lowered her gaze.
Her own figure, laid bare beneath the summer sunlight, suddenly felt so shabby that she could not bring herself to lift her head with any dignity.
"Her Highness the Second Princess appears to require urgent treatment, so please omit the palace entry procedures."
The magician of the Taren family who had halted before Barcas spoke with careful courtesy.
When no immediate reply came, Thalia raised her eyes again. A faint crease had formed between Barcas's brows as he stared intently at her face.
Did he find it strange that a woman who once threw a fit at the mere brush of another's hand now sat so docile?
With narrowed eyes he dissected her pale, ashen face as if taking it apart piece by piece, then slowly lowered his gaze.
That cool regard lingered a moment on the hands wrapped about her back and the hollow of her knees before traveling down to the calves hanging limp beneath her skirt. As though he had noticed the dark crimson stains seeping through the bandages, the furrow between his brows deepened.
An interrogative look shot at once toward the magicians of the Taren family.
Ignoring it, the magician added gently,
"His Majesty will understand if the Second Princess proceeds straight to her quarters."
"Yes. Take the child away at once."
In place of the man who remained silent, a clear, pure voice suddenly supplied the answer.
Turning toward the sound, Thalia discovered Aila leading a group of maids across the chaotic open ground, and her face hardened.
Aila came to stand beside Barcas and looked down at her with an expression of pity.
"Having come all this way on a hard journey with a body far from whole, it would be best for her to receive treatment and rest as soon as possible."
Thalia clenched her teeth. Humiliation surged at that lukewarm, pitying gaze. Had she not been in a state where she could not so much as twitch a finger, she would have gouged those eyes out without mercy.
Whether she knew of the turmoil churning inside Thalia or not, Aila, wearing a gentle smile, rested her hand upon Barcas's forearm.
"I shall speak well of it to His Majesty."
Then she turned with elegant grace and urged him on.
"Come, let us go inside now. His Majesty is waiting, after all."
Only then did the man who had stood utterly still begin to move his legs, slowly. Thalia kept her gaze fixed lingeringly on that receding back before at last lowering her eyelids.
The magicians passed the main palace and entered a broad garden dense with flowers. Presently a magnificently appointed, imposing structure swallowed her whole.
Thalia was seized by the sensation of being drawn into the bowels of some vast monster.
In an instant the magicians crossed the marble hall, climbed the stairs, and stepped into Senebier's study. After passing three or four large bookshelves lined with hundreds of volumes, a secret passage hidden between the pillars was revealed. The magicians entered it as if the way were long familiar.
Before long, Senebier's research laboratory appeared.
Thalia frowned at the sharp scent of fragrant oils and the various herbal smells that made her head spin.
"Lay her down over here."
With long strides the magician crossed the laboratory in a flash and flung open the door beside the display cabinet.
It was a room she had never entered, though she had visited this place many times. The man carrying her set her down upon the bed in the center of that room.
Thalia looked about with eyes clouded by unease.
Inside the cleanly ordered chamber stood tools of bizarre shapes she had never seen in her life.
After examining them she turned her eyes back to the two magicians. They were laying out equipment of unknown purpose upon the table.
Was this how a calf felt when it entered a slaughterhouse? Cold sweat soaked the nape of her neck. Had she not been under the spell, she would have been screaming.
"First, I shall examine the wound."
One of the magicians said as he took his place by her legs.
Thalia stiffened rigidly as she felt her skirt being lifted.
With businesslike hands the man unwound the bandages and clicked his tongue lightly.
"The condition is more serious than I thought."
He added as he carefully palpated her knee with ice-cold fingers.
"The clumsy way the bone was set is going to be a problem instead. If we let the wound heal as it is, the nerves will be paralyzed and she will never be able to use the leg again."
"Honestly, the clumsy skills of human magicians..."
The magician muttered under his breath as he picked up a small knife from the table.
"No choice. We'll have to set it again."
In that instant a rough sob burst from her tightly constricted throat.
Only then, seeing her face turned deathly pale, the magician lowered the cloth covering his lower face and lifted the corners of his mouth in a smile.
"There is no need to worry so much."
It seemed meant to reassure her, yet Thalia felt her blood run cold instead. It looked less like a human smile than a fish attempting to mimic a human expression.
The man continued to chatter.
"It will be difficult to restore it to exactly the same state as before, but at the very least I will ensure there is no problem with walking."
She struggled to move her lips.
Stop.
If it could not be the same as before, there was no reason to endure this process.
She wanted to cry that out, but only rough sobs leaked from her mouth.
The man raised the cloth again and gave an order.
"It would be best to burn some sleeping herbs."
The magician who had been examining the equipment on the table brought a small brazier to her bedside and burned a bundle of thoroughly dried herbs.
Thalia immediately held her breath. But she could not hold out long. Forced by the sense of suffocation to inhale the smoke, her vision grew distant in an instant.
Straining her eyes in an effort to push aside the hazy veil, Thalia soon sank into sleep as if fainting.
Raindrops fell upon the lake.
She realized she was dreaming. The scenery from an old memory was unfolding before her eyes.
Fourteen-year-old Thalia sat crouched beneath a great, thick-trunked tree, staring at the gray surface of the water where rain poured down as if it were her mortal enemy.
To her side approached Barcas, soaked through by the rain.
"Is the game of hide-and-seek over now?"
She glared at him with venomous eyes.
He must have searched every corner of the palace grounds; even his attire and hairstyle, which had never known a single crease, were now in complete disarray. Yet Thalia's mood improved not in the slightest.
She stretched out her hand, scooped up a fistful of squelching mud, and hurled it at him.
"Get away! I can't stand the sight of the likes of you!"
An ugly stain appeared on the velvet uniform embroidered with gorgeous needlework, yet Barcas did not so much as bat an eye.
That impassive reaction only made her angrier. Thalia kept scooping up clods of mud and throwing them.
"Get lost! Go to Aila instead!"
"I would like nothing better."
Barcas let out a short sigh, bent one knee beside her, and continued.
"But I am bound hand and foot until Your Highness turns sixteen."
Thalia glared at him with a face full of rising emotion.
Pathetically, she felt tears coming on. To hide them she forced strength into both eyes and twisted the corners of her mouth into a deliberately spiteful smirk.
"Having to look at your face for two more years is too horrible. Just thinking about it makes me want to throw up."
"..."
"I hate you most in the world. You give me the creeps. You make me nauseous. You're disgusting."
"Are you finished?"
"I'm not finished. You smell like a horse."
His eyebrows rose slightly.
Thalia flinched and lowered her eyes. Having spent his childhood in a monastery, Barcas was obsessive about cleanliness.
A refreshing scent of soap always clung to him. He himself would know that well enough, so he would also know her accusation was close to pure fabrication.
Yet instead of pointing it out, Barcas tossed the overcoat he held in one hand onto her shoulders with a soft thud and straightened up.
"I shall hear the rest of your criticisms at the detached palace. Get up now. Your lips have turned purple."