Seven Witches

thirty-five

Zoya;

"The man who wants us to finish this job for him is Napoleon Bonaparte," Vladislav explained. "He promised us land and gold, two titles as well if everything goes according to plan."

Zoya toyed with the handle of her dagger, brows raised. "And what if he doesn't oblige after the assassination has been complete?"

He shrugged, drinking from the cup without sniffing it or even checking the colour. It would have been so easy to poison him. "I told him that if he doesn't complete his end of the bargain, we can take him out the same way we took out the Tsar. And I also happened to tell him that he cannot possibly have more protection than the Tsar, and even if he did, someday he will not."

She nodded, wanting this conversation to be over already. Vladislav drained the last of his cup, then set it down before leaning back into the cushions. "Have you prepared well?" he asked.

Zoya eyed him distastefully. "Have I ever gone into a battle unprepared?"

He chuckled then, and she wished she could tear out his throat with her bare hands. When she was certain he had nothing more to say, she pushed her chair back and made to leave. He held her wrist to stop her, face pinched. "I'm sorry,"

She wondered if the man ever took a break from lying. "I know, darling," she smiled, and walked out before he tries to kiss her again. The memory haunted her and left a bad taste in her mouth. She will make him pay for it, make him regret teaching her too much of his wicked ways.

Zoya retired back to her room, and Aaron for once, was doing something other than sleeping and touching her weaponry. He had a cloth over his mouth and was holding a small tube with a pale yellowish liquid, with his other hand he had a metal knife. "What are you doing?" she asked.

He turned to her and spoke through the cloth, "Experimenting. Don't get too close so that you don't breathe it."

Indeed the smell was pungent, and so she also tugged her shirt over her mouth. Aaron glanced at the silver of skin exposed on her torso, then proceeded to pour the liquid on the metal. In a matter of seconds, the liquid sizzled and then burned through the knife and onto the glass bowl beneath, spreading out. Zoya cursed loudly, and that earned her a broad grin from Aaron.

He poured the acid in a glass bottle and closed it. "It worked," he whispered, opening the windows and slowly removing the cloth. "I did it!"

"What did you do?!" Zoya demanded.

He coughed a few times, then said, "It's a solution of ammonia, and an acid named aqua regis. When poured over metal, it dissolves it and can make it brittle enough to break easily. However, it is useless with glass." He held the half unscathed bowl up for her to see. "Do you know what this means?"

"It can melt any lock or any door," she finished, gawking in awe. "But why the ammonia?"

Aaron nodded. "To make the fumes coming from the reaction deadly,"

She knelt on the floor, taking the knife and sniffing the yellow fumes deeply where the hole was made. "What are you doing?!" he panicked, hands snatching the knife away from her. "I just told you it's toxic to breathe!"

Zoya studied his horrified face and soon she was unable to contain her laughter. She placed her hand on her throat, and then on her head and chest, trying to feel the path the toxin took through her body using her powers. "You've forgotten I'm a healer," she mocked.

It was, as he said, very toxic. The poison passed into her lungs and burned, and if she had not mended the damage immediately, she would surely have choked. "I see," she murmured, grinning at what he had made.