84 - The Rescue

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(Two days earlier)

The calm heralds the storm, the bolt strikes out of the blue, as the saying went. Yet, for Arinel, it wasn't even a calm, cloudless-sky day to begin with.

One of her first moves as alchemist had been to recruit Dineira, her mother's accidental murderer, to assist her with recreating and improving on her mother's work.

It wasn't that she'd forgiven Dineira. She'd put aside her grudge if it meant anesthesia could be perfected one day sooner. One less day Zier would have to live in fear. One less day dragons would have to suffer.

Apparently, that was too much for Gretella. Within days of Meya's departure, Arinel found herself no longer on speaking terms with her grandmother, for the first time in her life.

Worse, the progress she had fought her nana for was anything but remarkable. Surgery remained a forbidden practice by the Royal Council, which meant Lady Jaise couldn't provide funding or test subjects. Arinel had had to use her life savings to fund the experiment, yet it was still illegal to even put up bulletins recruiting test subjects from the common populace.

Diamat Sameri helped spread the word and bring in old regulars. However, when Arinel explained in full honesty that they would be put to a sleep they might not wake up from, using a banned procedure, the volunteers would either develop cold feet or demand absurd compensations Arinel could not afford.

That fateful day, Arinel had shuffled into her lab to find Dineira's note, with suggestions and designs for never-before-seen, custom-made equipment needed to streamline the procedure, a schedule empty of appointments with potential test subjects, and no new letters from Zier on her desk. When Lady Jaise summoned for her, she'd entered the Great Hall expecting nothing more could dampen her spirit, only to nearly faint at the sight of her father sitting there in the flesh.

As Meya would often proclaim with a roll of her eyes—typical Freda.

Arinel watched Father's white boots pacing back and forth before her, the hem of his Crosset Green cloak fluttering with each furious step. Every two steps, a swing and tap of his cane. Even with her Icemeet blood, Arinel shivered in the cold. She missed Jerald's warmth at her back, Grandmother's hands upon her shoulders. They weren't allowed by her side. Partners-in-crime were to be interrogated separately.

"How did you find out, Father?" Arinel succumbed with a sigh, unable to tolerate the silence any longer. Father slumped down on the long chair, a hand on his cane's silver knob.

"Rumors, Annetta." He growled. Arinel twitched uncomfortably at the name. Her father preferred her middle name, which he had chosen. If Mother hadn't died, forcing him to honor her memory with the most inconsequential gesture he could afford, Arinel had a sneaking suspicion she would have been named Annetta Arinel instead.

"Them masked merchants, stirring up a crowd in every alehouse. Lady Crosset is secretly a Greeneye, is what they said."

"Naturally, you suspected Meya." Arinel muttered.

"I thought you were dead, Annetta!" Father snapped, glaring into her eyes. Arinel flinched. "Five guards were killed, and I only learned of it a week later! It's not below that wench to take your place when the opportunity arises."

"No, Father." Arinel straightened up in her chair. She glared straight back at her father, voice trembling with emotion, "I made the choice to die. The bandits were willing to negotiate. Meya persuaded me to live. She's brave—loyal—selfless—"

"Just not enough to hand back your titles when it was all over, is she?" Father sneered. Arinel bit her lip, trembling fists clenched on her lap.  Father shook his head, growling through gritted teeth, "I should've known better than to let a crone and a bastard raise my daughter. They've raised a softhearted fool! A cowardly liar!"

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