doctor's orders

Luce fixed Zee with a practiced, withering gaze. "Yes, I called," she snapped, rising to her paws and walking a quick circle around the other female. Her markings were strange and brightly colored, nothing like Lucretia had ever seen. Did that mean she was ill? Luce leaned forward, sniffing along Zee's spine. Nothing seemed amiss. "Stretch for me, each leg, then lie down and get up," she instructed, taking a seat a few strides away.

Out of the corner of her eye, a new presence appeared. Ah, yes, the prodigal bastard had returned. Luce puffed her chest slightly at being referred to as "your grace" - despite her misgivings, his reverence was always welcome. He had come from far away and would require a far more thorough examination than the slave girl to ensure that he hadn't carried along any illness. She inclined her head only slightly in his direction, appreciating the way he corrected the slave girl without comment.

A long time ago - a lifetime ago - Luce had been rabidly jealous of the way that Sirius had been assigned to Deathbelle. She had longed for a companion of her own, and the way their relationship evolved as they grew had been maddening to watch. What not her? Because she was little, ugly, and untalented? Wounds that she had thought were long closed opened up at the sight of him, but Lucretia remained calm and collected. He was a fool, and he could continue to walk at his master's heels... unless Lucretia informed Belle otherwise. Sirius was not getting out of her sight without a fiercely thorough investigation.

"And your name is, slave girl?" Lucretia asked Zee pointedly. "I've called you here to make sure that you bring no sickness or communicable disease to our Empress and the pack at large, so if you want to keep your place at Deathbelle's side, you will do as I say."