Fifty-Five ◑ The Gift

*"Agnes!" Lucille couldn't help screaming. No sound escaped her mouth, though. She only felt her lips move. "Agnes. . . ."*

*She wanted desperately to come to her friend, to rescue her. She couldn't stand seeing her there, enclosed in a tight space, motionless and staring into space with her glassy white eyes. Lucille's throat was tight with helplessness, her heart clenching with worry.*

*Betrayal had always been something that Lucille had never taken lightly, and she would admit that a part of her resented Agnes, but seeing her like this broke something in her. It unlocked a wave of despair that kept coming and coming, even as Agnes groaned and moved.*

*Her whole left body was now in that withered state. Her hands were bony, covered in that brittle-looking black coat. Her clothes were stained, tattered. She was thin. Emaciated, even.*

*But what Lucille couldn't understand was why Agnes was locked up in a cell.*

*Had people found her? Had they labeled her a threat, a freak? Had they captured her to—*

*"Please tell me you've learned your lesson now."*

*Cade's voice reverberated in the brick walls. He slowly walked into view, staying just at the brink of Lucille's sight, enough for her to know he was there but not enough to be seen. She froze in her spot, overcome with a rage so strong it nearly suffocated her.*

*"I did," Agnes rasped. "I learned that I can break from the past. I want to see her, Cade. I need to."*

*Something about Agnes's pleading made Lucille feel that that statement had been about her.*

*"You know you can't do that." Cade sounded resolute. "I can't allow you—"*

*"You told me you'd give me freedom," Agnes said, sitting up in her cell, her hands closed around the bars. Tears glistened on her wrinkled cheeks. "You promised me love and a new life. This isn't what I wanted. I just want go back to Lucille."*

*Lucille's heart shattered. Agnes wanted to come back to her. And Lucille wanted the same.*

*This enraged Cade.*

*His anger emanated from him in waves, strong and nearly toxic. It filled the air, made it crackle with some sort of an energy. Lucille made a move towards Agnes, but she could only step back as he marched forward.*

*With heavy, imperious steps, Cade strode up to Agnes as she thrashed and screamed in pain, the black marks spreading around her body.*

*A cry of horror got stuck in Lucille's throat, unable to get released as the scene shifted.*

*Lucille found herself in hall with frescoes and mosaics, as well as a long wooden table laden with fruits, meat, and other food. It was another banquet, but not like the one she'd had with the gods in Rome. The royal family crest was emblazoned on a tapestry, and the view of Crete stretched beyond them from the gaps between the columns. This hall was a part of the royal palace in Crete.*

*Once again, she was Lysandra.*

*And she felt like it. She felt queenly, vindictive. As she sat at the head of the table, all she could muse about was the absence of servants, the fact that no one was around.*

*Just her and her lovely guest, Princess Aglaia of Iolchus.*

*Aglaia, who thought that this was a meeting for a treaty, a simple gesture of knowing a fellow royalty. Aglaia, who'd agreed to keep her servants and her guards away for the time being.*

*Aglaia, the young wench that had fallen for her husband's crooked ways.*

*Lysandra would be damned to let this session come to a peaceful end.*

*"Thank you for accepting my invitation," Lysandra said with a smile. "My husband and I would like to discuss the possibilities of an alliance. I'm sure your parents will be pleased."*

*Aglaia shifted in her chair. "You should've invited them as well."*

*Lysandra waved a hand airily as she took a sip of wine. "You're the future of Iolchus. Someday the kingdom will be yours and your husband's."*

*The young princess only gave her a closed smile. She was beautiful, Lysandra had to admit. She had a light air to her, playful and sweet. For the entire night she had been nothing but smart and well-mannered, and if Lysandra could just ignore the truth for a second, she would say she liked the girl.*

*Unfortunately, Lysandra was no longer blind to the truth. And judging by the slow dip of her mood, neither was Aglaia.*

*Lysandra set down the goblet and fetched the small wooden box at the side of the table. "Would you like to meet my king, Aglaia?"*

*"I wouldn't want to bother him," she replied, her eyes downcast, never on Lysandra's face for more than three seconds. "I believe I've overstayed my welcome. I must leave."*

*"Oh, very well." Lysandra adopted a gallant tone. "I hoped we would talk more, but you'll be coming back, I suppose?"*

*"Yes." Aglaia nodded. "Yes, I will be back. Perhaps we could talk about more things, things that do not concern our kingdoms."*

*The queen of Crete only proffered her the box. "Then take this as a parting gift."*

*Aglaia hesitated, her dark eyes fixed on the box on Lysandra's palm. Lysandra brought it closer to her, sliding it to her side of the table when she didn't move.*

*"It's one of our craftsmen's most beautiful creations," Lysandra said as Aglaia took the box with caution. "He is gifted."*

*Aglaia lifted the wooden container, cradling it on her palms. Slowly she raised its tiny, carved lid, revealing a golden bracelet with a single red ruby pendant.*

*That was a lie. Lysandra had no clue where that bracelet had come from, much less who'd made it. All she knew was that it was a gift from her husband. He'd presented it to her just this morning before he went somewhere.*

*And now Lysandra was sharing his wonderful gift.*

*Even Aglaia, who was wary, stared at it in awe. "Your craftsman seemed to be blessed by Athena herself. This is wonderful."*

*She watched the princess put it on, lifting it to the candlelight to see first before setting it on the back of her wrist. Expertly, she wound it around and and locked it around her arm.*

*As soon as the clasp clicked, the bracelet began to hiss and release a thin wisp of acidic smoke.*

*Aglaia flinched, a yelp escaping her lips. She shot to her feet so fast that her chair fell back on the floor with a loud clatter. The skin on her wrist where the bracelet touched began to sizzle and burn. The smell of burning flesh lingered in the air as Lysandra continued to watch.*

*She collapsed on her knees, clutching her right arm, which was now engulfed in the same trail of seared skin. She thrashed on the floor, shrieking and sobbing, saying something in a garbled voice that sounded awfully like an apology.*

*"Please," she begged, "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to. I'm so sorry. . . ."*

*Nothing like a dash of centaur blood to make them cone to senses, Lysandra mused, her chest hard with a heavily suppressed remorse.*

*Aglaia rolled on her back, her arm now bloody and raw, her eyes finding Lysandra's as she stepped back and waited for Aglaia to stop twitching.*

*Lysandra averted her eyes, her hands numb with how hard she was clenching them. Her entire body was stiff, torn between what was happening and how much she hated herself for it. She shouldn't feel that way anymore. She shouldn't feel like she was doing something wrong.*

*After all, she was the one who'd been hurt, fooled.*

*Still, it made tears well in her eyes. Her heart was heavy with despair, with a guilt so intense she couldn't move for an entire ten minutes.*

*It didn't take long for Aglaia's body to become limp. She was dead.*

*And it was Lysandra's doing.*

*What had she been thinking? What had gotten into her? She had killed a woman. She had murdered a woman, all because of her jealousy, her pain, at the infidelity of—*

*"What is this?"*

*Cadmus walked into the hall, still dressed in his white tunic and lionskin cape. His steps were thunderous, but his expression was a fully-fledged storm of hatred and annoyance when he saw Lysandra.*

*Then his gaze fell upon Aglaia's dead body and his whole aura went dark.*
The Chastener Witch Next Door
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