Page 2 of Poisoned Kingdom (Secrets of Dagome #1)

‘I’m guessing when one’s seen true carnage, a few bodies pulled from a mining shaft must feel insignificant.

Still, they are his people, and they deserve more from their king,’ I snapped.

Over the past three months, death had hung over the dwarven capital like a thundercloud.

Hatred for mages had blinded the king, fuelling his rising paranoia.

Now, he believed that only srebrec weapons could protect him.

Meanwhile, the victims of his fear kept dying on my watch.

‘You’re right, but what can we do? Now that he’s discovered another vein, there’ll be even more casualties.’

‘What? Blasted idiot, does he want to kill us all?’ I cursed, rubbing the bridge of my nose.

‘Even the dwarven furnaces can’t smelt so much srebrec into augurec 1 .

You already can’t walk through his court without tripping over those weird cubes that are supposed to shield him from mages.

He’ll end up slicing his own foot off one of these days. ’

‘He’s started selling it.’

Now, that news made me gasp. ‘To whom? The mages?’ I didn’t know who else could, or would, buy srebrec. Only mages or those who wanted to control them or other magical beings had a use for it. It was too soft for making swords or armour, and too unstable to be worn as jewellery.

‘Be serious.’ Tova’s voice was laced with bitter amusement. ‘He found a buyer in the south. Someone who hates Dagome and their mages as much as he does, so expect the worst.’

‘I always do, but I don’t know how to find any reason in this madness,’ I said with a shrug, inhaling deeply to clear my mind. The smell of herbal remedies was overpowering but reminded me I still had more salve to make. I’d slacked off today, too engrossed in studying.

Examining the dwarf’s muscular body, I grinned.

‘Since you’re here, Master Artificer, would you help this poor, besieged woman whose arms are as weak as spring twigs with all the burdens she bears?’

Tova’s brow shot up as I pushed a mortar and pestle filled with half-crushed herbs into his hands.

‘Sana, you’re a bloody menace. I came to get you to stop working, not to do your work for you . . .’

When I patted his shoulder, my friend fell silent. ‘You can do both. The sooner it’s done, the sooner I leave. Please, just one batch, then we can go to the tavern. I’ll even buy you a beer . . .’ I taunted.

‘Fine! But not a word to anyone. I mean it, drah’sa. 2 I don’t want anyone knowing that the best artificer in Wiosna is mashing herbs like a hedge witch.’

I nodded eagerly, grateful for his help.

It was a never-ending need I could barely fulfil.

The salve and potion didn’t cure those affected by aether flux.

However, the nivale oil and other herbs provided my patients a peaceful, painless death.

It was a better alternative to them writhing in sweat-soaked beds, chafing swollen grey skin full of bleeding pustules that didn’t heal.

Because death always comes.

All I could do was ease their passing.

A flashback of my recent patient’s face forced a frustrated curse from my mouth.

I’d never been trained. Even admitting to being able to see aether could be a death sentence—one, if not issued by my old master, then by the mages who wouldn’t tolerate me working independently.

M?ot, who’d banished every aether user from his kingdom, would certainly have my head.

My only magical achievements were being able to influence aether to purge poisons and the ability to resist psychic manipulations.

Neither of those had come from books. With poisons, I was always balancing on the edge of death, and instinct took over.

And after a certain psychic arsehole had tried to force his suggestions into my mind, I had spent months working with a dark fae learning to set up a mental barrier.

I’m bloody useless . A wave of helplessness crashed over me, and I smashed the herbs I was working on with such force that the paste splashed onto the table.

‘Should I ask what brought that on? If you want, I can give you this mortar too, so you’ll have more ways to channel your anger,’ Tova said with a smirk.

‘I’m incompetent. It angers me. How did I end up here when the king must have had more qualified healers apply?’ I snapped, unwilling to disclose my thoughts even to Tova.

‘As if.’ He shrugged, placing his mortar with perfectly blended herbs on the table. ‘Dwarves aren’t healers. He banished the mages, so he had to choose the least smelly human who wanted the position,’ he finished with a shit-eating grin.

I turned, intending to playfully smack him, but a sudden draft from the door opening startled me, and I accidentally knocked an inkwell onto the floor.

‘My lady, what are you . . .?’

I looked up from the black pool at my feet to the servant standing in the doorway, staring at me with horror in her eyes. ‘The king wants to see you immediately, my lady. But your dress . . . It’s all ruined. Gods, that will never wash out.’

‘No worries, I’ll just scrub it with some vinegar and brewing powder. That’ll remove the stain. Do you know what the king wants?’ I asked, removing my apron and placing it neatly aside.

‘No, only that he wants to see you right now,’ she said, still gazing at the mess. ‘The messenger looked scared and had a black eye.’

Tova patted my back. ‘You need to go, Sana. His tantrums have been getting worse lately; the longer we delay, the more excuses he’ll find to punish you for some imaginary transgression.’

M?ot barely tolerated his own kin, and I was like a rock in his shoe. He endured my presence because my knowledge of herbal remedies brought him some relief, even if only Tova and I knew those remedies contained an unhealthy dose of sedatives.

I nodded, turning to the servant. ‘Don’t wait for me. The salve is almost ready. Just mix it with lard and take it to the sick while I see what our ever-so-patient monarch wants,’ I said, washing my hands and glancing in the mirror to ensure my unruly waves were neatly plaited in a tight braid.

‘You must’ve fallen off your perch and hit your head if you think I’ll be mixing anything with lard.’ Tova scoffed, offering me his arm. ‘I’ll escort you to the king.’

‘I wasn’t asking you, tinkerer, but well . . . thank you.’ I forced a smile as we left my little sanctuary.

‘Fuck, how can you endure it?’ Tova whispered when the stench of death once again assaulted our senses.

I shrugged, looking around the crowded hall where row after row of the cave-in victims and those affected by aether flux lay suffering slow, agonising deaths.

‘The way you held him . . . no one could ask for more.’

‘I’ve seen worse. Besides, someone has to help them. I’m doing my best even if it’s barely enough,’ I said, swallowing hard, painfully aware of my own inadequacies.

Tova squeezed my hand, comforting me the best he could. ‘I know, drah’sa. I know. I wish I could help, but as you said, I’m just a tinkerer. A good one, but I know nothing about the body. If they were machines to fix . . .’

‘Then you’d be the first person I’d call,’ I said, heading toward the infirmary’s exit.

We left the building, and the blistering heat hit me so hard it took a moment to notice the sounds of crickets and the scent of night flowers.

The streets were peaceful. Only a few stalls were open, the goods of metal, wood, or gems lacking the variety a bustling market should have had.

But it hadn’t always been like this. I remembered Wiosna on the day of my arrival.

The capital was bursting at the seams with laughter and rowdy haggling, children running around causing lighthearted mayhem.

Now, the only people here were rushing silently about their business, rarely stopping to even look at the stalls.

Wiosna, the dwarven city that gave its name to the entire country, was supposed to be just a brief stop in my travels.

A place to rest, since I wasn’t allowed to return to Truso.

But then it became the place where I could forget about my old life.

Yet, lately, what had felt like my safe haven made me feel a stagnant dread.

More often than not, I found myself considering whether I had made a mistake in throwing my past away.

‘Halt! Who goes there?’ shouted the guard when we neared the entrance to the dwarven court.

‘Sana Regnav. The king wanted to see me,’ I said.

‘And Tova Orenson. I don’t need an invitation.’

Tova’s cocky smirk didn’t go unnoticed.

‘Enter, Lady Healer. Orenson, best be mindful of your tongue. The king’s in a foul mood today,’ the guard warned.

Tova shrugged. ‘Is he ever in a good one?’

The question was left unanswered as we stepped into a metal cage, the door closing behind us. It felt like being lowered into a grave as the lift slowly dropped into the bowels of the earth.

Minutes later, we stood before the gates of King M?ot’s palace, and I had an awful feeling that this time, I might be buried there.

1. Augurec — inert srebrec alloy used to create shackles and collars that suppress magic.

2. Drah’sa — a dwarven term of endearment meaning ‘little sister,’ used for one considered a family member.