She’d started drinking, and at his words, she swallowed wrong and coughed.
“You want to put me to sleep?”
“It’s the best way.”
“No, wait. I don’t need laudanum. You can just use the Quietus Net. Use two, if you must. They will make me drowsy and block out the pain, but I’ll stay conscious.”
“Seraphina, no. This is a delicate procedure done in already unfavorable circumstances. Even with alcohol, laudanum, and a Quietus Net, you might move. I’ll have to restrain you.”
She clung to his arm. “Idris, I don’t want to sleep. The dreams…”
“You were serious about the dreams?” But he wasn’t really paying attention to what she was saying. He replaced the flask in her hand with a small glass. “I mixed thirty drops with beer. Drink and do your best to hold it down.”
“You can restrain me, I don’t mind, but let me stay awake.”
“I’m operating alone. There’s no one to help me if the pain is too much and you start struggling, no one to hold you down.” He guided the glass to her lips. “Come on. It will be all right. Do you trust me?”
“I do. With my life, but…”
He tipped the glass, and she didn’t fight him. The bitter liquid slid down her throat, making her gag. It was the worst thing she’d ever tasted. When Idris pulled it away, she covered her mouth and nose with her hand, doing her utmost not to vomit. He gave her the flask of brandy again, and she finished it without even thinking.
“Better already, right?”
She felt warmth spreading in her chest and traveling down to her legs. She nodded and let herself fall back on the workbench. Her fingers unclenched, and within minutes, she found she couldn’t trace the pattern of the Hearthband anymore, her arms falling at her sides, her mind unable to count the bone shards.
What were the things that had been bothering her? She couldn’t quite remember.
“You’re underweight, tired, and on an empty stomach,” Idris said.
She felt him touch her ankle, and at first, she didn’t understand what he was doing, but then he pulled her leg flat on the surface of the workbench and secured her foot to the vice with a leather strap. He used another one to secure her other foot. He moved to her arms, and even if she wanted to, she found she couldn’t have fought him. He’d made her give up her daggers, too. They hung by their belt next to her cloak.
“It won’t take long now. When you wake up, you’ll feel like death, but you won’t remember anything.”
Her arms were tied away from her body.
There was something… Something she’d been meaning to tell him. It was one of those things that had been bothering her.
She let out a soft groan.
Idris took out a pocket watch and pressed two fingers to her pulse. For a while, he stayed like that, counting.
“You’re all right,” he said. “You’re doing good. Now, for the last touch.”
She felt him lay something on her chest. It was light, barely there. She felt its effect more than its weight. A Quietus Net. This close to her person – not pinned to a curtain or hung from the ceiling – it would dull her senses within seconds. Seraphina felt herself slipping, sliding, as if on ice, except the ice was warm and inviting.
He lifted her head to remove the scarf.
“Idris… There’s a… There’s a bone. In my eye.”
The last traces of tension dissipated from her body, and her head fell heavy in his hands. If nothing else, at least she missed his reaction.
Panting, coughing. Drenched in mud up to his knees.
“I’m sorry, I tried, I’m sorry…”
Once again, he’d failed his mission, had come back empty-handed. This time, for sure, there would be consequences. He wanted to turn on his heel, find a superior… But there was this piercing, constant suggestion slinking between his thoughts, telling him he should do as she said – as the woman with the scarf said – or else. Or else.
“Please, please don’t…”
