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‘I’ve been working with Farissa on several minor projects while you’re off having your nosebleeds,’ Wren explained. ‘This was one of my ideas. Each chamber has a hidden hole near the teapot’s handle.’ Wren pointed to the place on her drawing. ‘To pour a specific drink out, you need to keep the hole connected to the chamber uncovered.’
‘But —’
‘Think about it, Thea. If you were already suspicious of your host, would you not want to see them drink the same drink as you before you took the risk?’
‘Yes…’
‘The drink in each chamber needs to look identical. And the server needs to remember which is which. From there, they need to keep their finger over the spot with the unpoisoned drink in order to poison their foe and over the hole with the poisoned drink if they wish to pour for themself. But to the guest… It appears to be the same, coming from the same place. Do you see?’
Thea stared at the pages in disbelief. ‘How?’
‘I’m starting a working model this afternoon to show the theory. It’s quite simple: the surface tension and pressure prevent the liquids from pouring out. By covering the hole, the server prevents air from entering the chamber.’ Wren touched her hand to the sketch again. ‘This should decrease the surface area of the liquid and prevent it from exiting through the spout. When the server covers the hole with their finger like so, it allows the air’s pressure to hold the liquid in place.’
Thea gave a slow, disbelieving shake of her head. ‘Impressive, Wren,’ she managed, as she continued to stare at the illustrations.
‘Thank you.’
‘You know… It’s quite a deplorable contraption.’
‘Well, you can’t have every drop of wickedness in the family.’
Thea laughed, finding her sister’s passion infectious. ‘I’m relieved to hear it.’
They worked in amiable quiet for the rest of the hour, making a range of tinctures for the healers and some more nefarious tonics for whom they didn’t know and didn’t ask. Thus was the work of Thezmarr’s women. Mostly, Thea listened to Wren’s instructions, still marvelling at her sister’s cleverness, and imagining the stealthy missions the Ladies’ Luncheon Teapot would be needed for.
All the while Thea chopped and ground ingredients, she missed the press of her dagger at her ankle, unable to believe she’d been so careless. Over the course of their shift, she tried to find an opportunity to slip out, but Farissa was watching her like a hawk. A damn good imitation of Audra, as though she knew Thea had one foot out the door.
To Thea’s dismay, midmeal was brief and again provided no window for escape to duck away to the Bloodwoods. Feeling bitter, she made her way through the ground floor corridors with Wren, defeat chasing her with every step. Farissa had gone easy on her for missing the previous day’s shift, but she doubted she would enjoy the same leniency from Audra. She touched her hand to the scab on her cheek, wishing she’d had the foresight to cover it with Wren’s cosmetics.
Just as they reached the steps to the east tower, harsh laughter rang out from nearby. Thea flexed her fingers, recognising who it belonged to. Where that amusement sounded, no good ever followed. She took a step in its direction.
‘Thea, leave it.’ Wren’s hand was already poised to grab Thea’s arm.
Despite the squirming sensation in her gut, Thea acquiesced. ‘Fine,’ she muttered, making for the stairs.
Six years ago, during one of the defence classes, Thea had requested a more challenging opponent after sparring with a rather unenthused Wren. Sebastos Barlowe had volunteered to show her what a worthy adversary he would make. Only, she had landed a blow against him in front of the whole cohort, and sent him staggering sideways. Although he ended up winning the round, Seb had taken the hit personally. Thea had tried to make it right, offering to shake his hand at the end, but he’d refused.
‘You think I’m shaking the hand of some dirty stray?’he had said with a sneer.
Wren had warned her that she’d made an enemy of him. As usual, her sister had been right. Whenever Sebastos Barlowe was near, a fight was never far away.
Now, the laughter sounded again, louder this time. Followed by the sneering voice that never failed to make her skin crawl.
‘ — look at the blithering idiot. Can’t even walk in a straight line —’
Thea didn’t think, she moved.
Shrugging off her sister’s grip and protests, she rounded the corner.
There, Malik’s giant form was surrounded by a group of shieldbearers, who were prodding him with their training swords. Malik was backing away from them, stumbling over his feet, his huge hands raised before him, trying to block them out.
Blood roared in Thea’s ears. ‘Seb!’ Her voice echoed down the passageway as she planted her boots wide apart, her body tense.
She heard Wren’s groan from behind her.
The shieldbearer in question whirled around. ‘What do you want, stray?’
Thea took a step towards Seb, her cheeks flushing in anger. ‘Still haven’t come up with a more imaginative or relevantinsult?’ She fought to keep her voice even as she noted the cuts on Malik’s arms and the confusion in his grey eyes. ‘Half the population of Thezmarr are orphans.’
