Villainous [Wattys 2021 Shortlist]

MALEVOLENT 15: Sedation

For the next few days, Delilah endeavoured to do everything she could to find out more about the skirmish. Infuriatingly, information on anything military seemed to be blocked. It wasn't too hard to figure out why; she may hate Gaol and Marko, but they weren't stupid. She became painfully aware of how isolated she was in the palace, at the heart of the huge machine that was Pelenu, all its gears and cogs turning around her, yet completely oblivious to all of it. She didn't even really know the inner workings of Rhydderch right now – only the change in leadership of the Illukanya, and only because she did it herself. Now the royal family had settled back in the city, she realised any future ventures out would be rare, and would have to be even more carefully planned, especially because she was sure the Governess had her suspicions and had definitely mentioned them to someone.

This made fulfilling the bargain with Ishtar very difficult. How could she scope out, plan and then assassinate a man if she was stuck in a gilded cage?

One night, she entered her room for her evening meal to find Tiberius sat on her bed.

Delilah went rigid.

"No need to look like a startled animal," he said.

"Isn't there? You tell me." But she closed the door behind her, feeling like she was shutting herself in a trap. Strange that she almost hoped the guards outside would stop her from closing it.

"We haven't seen much of each other of late."

Delilah had been thanking the ancestors, as he had been one less thing to worry about.

"Here, Delilah. Agrippa gave this healing tonic to me to give to you. I volunteered to be the one to administer it."

"Why couldn't he administer it himself?" she asked warily. He was being very guarded with his speech, which told her the guards were listening at the door.

"He's too afraid of the things you were saying in your sleep."

"In my sleep."

"Yes."

Perhaps some of her thoughts had slipped out.

"But you can't blame me for something I say when I'm sleeping. I don't have control over what I say, obviously."

"Obviously." His dark brown eyes never left hers. Unlike his brother Gaol, he had not inherited the eyes of a royal.

He gave her no choice but to drink the liquid, watching the whole time. Delilah downed it like it was hard liquor, throwing back her head, then slamming the cup down with unnecessary violence on her bedside table.

"There. Done. You can report back to Agrippa and your brother and tell them all I've been a good girl."

"You sound so ungrateful."

"Excuse me?"

"I'm currently locked in council battles arguing as to who your future match is going to be."

She swayed on her feet. Gaping like a fish.

"Your fate is entirely in my hands, and I'm trying to get one of the men in my pocket betrothed to you."

"No," she whispered, feeling as if she was losing her grip upon the entire world.

"Better my man than Gaol's."

Colours bled together and Delilah crumpled to the hard floor. It was like her room was an undried oil painting and someone had tipped water over it. She tried to shake her head, but her muscles wouldn't respond.

"I knew what they'd put in your drink," Tiberius said easily, unaware of the scream she couldn't quite force out. "If you become your previous willing self, if you agree to continue working with me, I'll find a way to stop them from adding the, ah... mixture."