By the time he had woken up, she had a healthy supply of minor chemicals that would make things easier if the situation turned sour on her, though her pride and joy was a tiny vial of yellow liquid, big enough to hold around ten millilitres with a foil cap for easy extraction.
Stuck to the side with a dab of glue was a small syringe with a tiny needle that she had first thought impossibly small to have been made.
Content with her work, she was still toying with the jar in her pocket when Epharis walked into the room, a towel around his waist and his hair wet from the bath.
He didn't say anything, merely watching her as she worked with narrowed, suspicious eyes.
She had of course thought about sticking the needle of aconite in him, but had decided that it wasn't worth the retaliation if it did nothing to him.
Instead, she kept her eyes down and pretended he wasn't in the room while she worked and fidgeted with the jar of salt.
He had watched her for a good twenty minutes before he left to get dressed and her tension eased, her muscles aching as they were released.
Piling the vials into a small pouch and arranging them so that she could easily feel the raised lettering, she picked out a couple of strips of leather from the pile, a bottle and vial, and a sewing kit, almost walking into him as she walked back out of the room.
Backpedalling fast, she looked up at his stern face and his eyes narrowed at her moment of panic.
"I wouldn't have to hurt you if you just did what I asked," he said coldly.
She didn't respond, slipping out of the door and placing her kit on the table before sitting down and setting out the strips; a longer, thin strip on top of a much thicker one.
Picking out a thick needle, a metallic thimble that was padded in leather, and a length of heavy string, she set to work sewing the ends together.
He approached her slowly, his hands coming down on her shoulders and she went still, her eyes wide as she wondered what he was going to do.
"Do not ever refuse me again," he murmured in her ear.
She nodded once, her stomach a tight knot of fear before he kissed the top of her head and swept from the room to leave her alone and trembling.
She felt she had no recourse with him, his being a powerful lich and immortal. Her instinct told her to run or kill, not submit. It left her confused and feeling helpless, something she hated.
Setting the bottle underneath the thin strip, she pressed the leather down and began to sew it into place, her hands shaking hard enough that she was forced to stop and she stared down as drops of black splashed down onto her thighs.
She wasn't weak, far from it, she knew that. But in that moment she felt as weak as a human, unable to defend herself against her own husband. Unable to even tell him 'no' or risk his violence.
He had not been as violent as he could be, easing up on her when she stopped fighting him, but she knew he would do whatever it took to get what he wanted out of her and that was the worst part of it all.
Forcing herself to calm down again, she got back to work and once she had sewn in five pockets for the bottles and five for the vials, she stood and tested the length of the leather strap around her thigh, moving to the lab for a knife and buckle.
Cutting off the end, she attached the buckle with more careful sewing and then dug a hole into the leather, forcing the buckle pin through repeatedly until it slid freely and she was happy.
The sewing reminded her of Sasha and she bit hard on her lip at the remembered pain. Cain had caused so much destruction in her life and yet she found her mind going to Nayishma, the one victim that hadn't been his.
Cocking her head to the side, she allowed herself to sink into herself and she poked around herself in search of that little pretty box she had created in order to house the woman.
Finding it, she gave it an experimental nudge and it quivered.
Sudden joy filled her as she swam upwards, and leaving everything behind, she sprinted from her room and down through the layers of the castle to the cold room where her backup host had been waiting for her all that time, stuffed in the back somewhere.
The shape would be wrong, she knew that, but it was still a body for the woman and she would create a better one later.
Rushing past startled servants and guards, she threw open the doors of the cold room and prowled inside, her nose catching the scent of clay and she grinned wildly at the sight of it. It had a few marks, but they were easy to smooth out.
"Oh my dear friend, forgive me for the shape I am giving you, but this is on short notice," she whispered to herself and reached down once more, opening that tiny box.
Inside she found the sleepy soul, warm and content in its little box and not particularly happy about being disturbed. When she thought on it, she felt that they looked like a tiny kitten, all warm and fuzzy, sleepy and content just to be what they were, mewling happily when their mother came to them and gave them love.
Kai had been the same, and now Nayishma opened her sleepy little eyes and purred at the warmth she shone down on her.
She moved automatically, leaning forward over the clay form and pressing a tender kiss to the host.
Nayishma was confused, not understanding and not liking the cold, but she went willingly enough.
She gave a huff, pawing at the gentle fingers that reached through herself and into the new shape that had been given life.
The sound of cold clay splitting was loud in the silent room and she leant back even as golden eyes opened and she inhaled hard.
Etani smiled as she felt herself falling, the woman was so incredibly beautiful, even without a head of snakes.