Days passed since the council, and the air in the Imperial Capital grew heavier.
Hope and fear seemed to walk side by side in the marble corridors of the palace.
The Teacher worked tirelessly in his sealed laboratory, isolated, guarded. Only a handful of people were allowed near him.
Daphne Blake was not one of them.
By decree, and by her husband's unyielding insistence, she was forbidden to enter the containment wing.
The Teacher alone handled the poison, testing every compound, every sample, every idea Daphne sent to him.
Her part of the work was done from another lab across the courtyard, a brighter, safer room filled with scrolls, herbs, vials, and pages of calculations.
There, she spent her days developing formulas, charting reactions, and recording theoretical results before passing them to the Teacher for testing.
And though she wasn't exposed to the poison itself, the weight of it pressed on her all the same.
It was taking its toll.
