"Are you certain that everything's alright?" Anise asked for a third time, hovering over Effie like a worried-sick mother bird.
"I'm fine," Effie grumbled, scrubbing furiously at the wall outside the apothecary, trying but failing to remove the townspeople's latest attempt at defiling Anise's business.
DIE, WITCHES!
At some time during the night, those words had been scrawled menacingly across the wooden siding in large, dripping, red letters that looked to be animal's blood. Or at least, Effie hoped it was just animal's blood. And as upsetting a sight as that was, it wasn't the main reason for Effie's fit of anger. Of course, the winner of that contest was none other than Seth Clayton himself.
Yesterday, she had gone to his house in hopes of amending their friendship after everything that had happened. But it had all gone so horribly wrong. At first she had been deeply wounded by his reaction. But over night, that deep pain had transformed into a seething rage.
That rage was only exacerbated by whichever derelict had decided to vandalize the apothecary last night, and this time in such a way that was proving nearly impossible to clean up.
"Is it because of the message on the wall?" Anise pressed. "Or did things not go so well with your visit to the Clayton's yesterday?"
"I don't feel like talking about it right now," Effie said through clenched teeth. Then vehemently, she plunged the sponge back into the bucket of soapy water next to her, and wrung it out hard, envisioning that the poor sponge was, in actuality, Seth's very wring-able neck.
"Alright, then..." Anise sighed in defeat. "I'll go back inside and prepare some tea. If you change your mind, and want to talk about things, you know that you can always come to me."
"I know," Effie said through tight lips, her voice hardly audible, "...thank you."
But before Anise had even made it half way to the door, she paused suddenly, craning her neck over her shoulder to listen to a distant noise that had reached both women's ears just then. Effie stopped mid-scrub, fingers tightening around the sponge at the sound of horses hooves, and wagon wheels clattering along the street, drawing nearer.
Shortly after, a familiar, elegant golden carriage drawn by two brown horses had pulled up next to the apothecary. Once it rolled to a stop, two royal soldiers jumped down from the carriage, approaching Effie.
"Euphemia Barlow," they addressed her formally. "His Royal Majesty, King Jaspar La Croix calls for your immediate services at the palace."
"Me? Now?" Effie blinked, stunned by the suddenness and unexpectedness of this visit.
"His Highness Prince Reign requires your medical expertise. The king has sent for your services, post hast. Please climb into the carriage, and we will escort you to the royal palace."
Still wide-eyed with surprise, Effie looked over her shoulder toward Anise, to gauge her reaction. Was it really okay to leave her aunt alone with the apothecary like this so suddenly?
As if Anise had understood her concerns, the older woman gave Effie a nod. "Go on, dear. The prince needs your help. I'll be fine here."
Effie wasn't so sure. She had a bad feeling about leaving Anise here alone to face the townspeople's endless onslaught. But she knew she didn't have much of a choice in the end. King Jaspar had made a deal. It was an order to take care of Prince Reign in exchange for her freedom and her life. She certainly didn't want to risk putting either herself or Anise back in prison, or worse, for not following that order. So reluctantly, she clamored into the the carriage, and waved goodbye to her Aunt Anise through the little window as the carriage took off down the road.
-------
Hour after dull hour had passed during her very uneventful carriage ride. It seemed like ages before the carriage finally pulled up to the front entrance of the La Croix's royal palace, the building's splendor still every bit as captivating as it had been the first time she'd laid eyes on it.
The soldiers jumped down from the carriage and opened the door, helping Effie out onto the glassy, marble walkway below. And this time, Effie wasn't dressed in anything but the simple work clothes and apron that she'd put on that morning as she was lead up the familiar walkway and into the castle's massive, main entryway.
The soldiers lead her directly toward the huge, grand staircase, and they ascended it all the way to the upper landing, an area of the palace she had not set foot in the last time she was here. As they walked, she could feel the penetrating eyes of nosy butlers, maids and palace staff boring into her back, no doubt wondering who she was, or what such a lowly looking girl could possibly doing in this part of the palace. But they kept their mouths shut, knowing that it wasn't their place to speak up about it. It was, however, something that the first prince had no qualms about pointing out.
"Well if it isn't the prison rat," his scathing voice had come from somewhere nearby.
Then, as Prince Torin approached, seemingly out of nowhere, the guards stopped in their tracks, each offering a bow of respect. before him, their voices speaking in unison. "Your Highness."
Effie's stomach roiled and writhed sickeningly within her at the mere sight of that horrid prince, but she reluctantly followed suit, giving him a half-hearted curtsy so as not to upset the balance of power within the palace. But she would be lying if she said she wasn't completely nauseated standing in his overwhelming presence. She knew he didn't have good intentions toward her - she could sense it. The animosity he held toward her felt dangerous. She had felt it back then when he'd fist visited her in prison. And she could still feel it now.
"What is this mangy creature doing back here?" He eyed her sidelong with disgust. "Has my dearest baby brother fallen back into illness with disease already? Well that didn't last long. How disappointing. Especially after the way he and the king talked her up this whole time. Are you sure she's doing her job properly? Though perhaps shes nothing but another farce; another false hope for father to desperately cling to; just like all of his other 'miraculous' healers."
"I don't know anything about that, your highness" Effie replied defiantly. "But I do know that I will do my best to take care of Prince Reign's condition. That is my sworn oath as a healer."
"Ha!" Torin scoffed. "Like I haven't heard that one a hundred times before. Don't make me laugh. Many have tried before you, and many have failed too. What makes you think you'll be any different than the others? You're not special, you know? You're nothing but a peasant."
'You're wrong,' Effie thought, squeezing her hands into fists at her sides. 'I won't fail like the rest. I refuse to fail Reign, because he never failed me.'
"Soldiers," Torin commanded suddenly. "You make take your leave. I'd like to personally escort Miss Barlow to the prince myself. It's time we get better acquainted with each other since she'll be coming around regularly, don't you agree?"
"B-but your highness. We were under strict orders to-"
"I said leave!" Torin bit dangerously. "Go, now. Unless you'd fancy a bit of play time at the wrong end of a noose."
"Yes, your highness." Both soldiers saluted, and then obediently marched way.
"Well, rat," Torin turned to an increasingly terrified Effie. And though she tried not to show the fear on her face, she couldn't stop her body from trembling visibly. "We finally get some alone time to talk. But my, you're positively shaking. Don't be frightened. I don't yet have a reason to harm you. Come with me, I'll take you to my brother. And in the meantime, let's have a little chat. Let us get know each other better, shall we?"
Walking along side Prince Torin was like taking a stroll with danger. Though he didn't have any clear ill intent aimed at her in that exact moment, Effie knew that could change at any time. He was like a feral cat, docile in one moment, and unpredictable the next. And to him, she was nothing but a little mouse to toy with. Or maybe to kill.
"I know what you are," he finally said, his voice so cold and malicious it sent a chill running through her spine. "My father is a complete fool for bringing the enemy straight to his own front door. I've tried to warn him. I really have. But father won't listen. He doesn't care about anything that I have to say. I could yell 'fire' and he wouldn't believe me even if his very head was alight. He's just so hell-bent on curing his precious favorite son of the curse before it claims his life. I think he'd be willing to do just about anything. It won't matter in the end, though. The curse will claim brother's life just as it claimed his mother's, and her mother's before her. Not that its of any consequence to me. I'll get father to see the light at any cost. One way or another, I'll figure out how to prove that you're a witch. And when I do, father will go down in history as the most incompetent king who ever presided over the four kingdoms."
"So you don't care if your brother dies?" Effie asked quietly.
"I really couldn't care less. All Reign's ever done is mope about the palace, feeling sorry for himself for his disease as if that's the worst thing in the world that could have happened to him. At least he's a son in father's eyes. He doesn't have to work hard to be seen by father, yet he doesn't even want that. He takes everything good in his life for granted. Though I suppose I can hardly blame him for it. Father's the real villain of the story." Torin let out a bitter laugh of resentment. "Father's the one who turned him into the spoiled brat that he is today. Father is the one who tore this family apart. So naturally, father is the one who should be punished. So you see, I have nothing personal against you. Sacrificing you will just be a means to an end. A way to get back at father in the way that will hurt the most."
"That's horrible," Effie cried.
Speaking of taking things for granted, at least the majority of Torin's family was still living. Effie would have given anything to bring her mother back, or to even know who her father was, as he had died before she could even remember his face. Why was Torin trying to destroy the only family he had?
"I don't expect you to understand," he replied indifferently, as if reading her mind. "In fact, count yourself fortunate that you don't. Anyway, it looks like we've arrive at our destination. My brother is just on the other side of that door, waiting for you to attend to his every whim. So why don't you be a good little servant and do as he asks, hm? Meanwhile, I should make myself scarce. Wouldn't want baby brother to learn of our little chat today, would we. Oops, too late."
Just then, the large door to Reign's chambers flew open, and there stood Prince Reign in a robe draped loosely over his body, looking unusually pale and haggard as he leaned on the door frame for support.
"Torin!" He demanded between shallow breaths of air. His eyes, though sunken and dark, pierced his brother with a look that could kill. "Just what do you think you are doing with Euphemia?!"