Page 16

Chapter sixteen

Potions

T he Shade and I walked into the first level of the solarium, surrounded by his plants and his ego and his shadows. My hands twisted around themselves as I paced to catch up.

“I am not my father.”

He frowned. “I never said you were.”

“I’m not a master potion maker. I don’t have the magic to help you.”

His fingers tapped on the wood of the banister of the stair as he considered me. I squirmed under his attention. “Are you a competent potion maker?”

“What?”

“Have your potions ever hurt anyone?”

My mouth dropped open as I stepped back. “Seven stars, no. I would never give something to anyone I wouldn’t take myself.”

The Shade turned and started again up the stairs. “Then you’ll do.”

I chased after him, my skirts swirling. “I want to help—really, I do—but I’m not the person you’re looking for. Why can’t we just take the ingredients to my father? He’ll know what to do with them. ”

The Shade pulled to a halt. “What do you think your father is doing now without a daughter or the ingredients he needs to save the queen?”

Drinking . I winced at my own cruel thought. “I’m sure he is out finding more ingredients. He…values his position. He cares. He knows his place is to serve His Highness—I mean, Her Majesty.”

His gaze latched onto mine. “Tell me honestly, if given the ingredients, can you produce the potion for the queen? Because that’s all I need to know.”

“But—”

“Aelia.” His voice was ragged with exasperation.

My shoulders slumped. “I can.”

He turned on his heel and headed back up the stairs toward the racerbristles. I followed behind him, the lingering shadows sometimes obscuring the edge of the step and making me slower. As soon as I had the thought, the shadows lifted and moved before him instead. I huffed a laugh and tried to catch up. Whatever I did, I couldn’t look at the Shade’s rear. That would really be—

The Shade had stopped, and I ran into him. His shadows caught me, though I felt his shoulders shaking with…was that laughter? He turned and grasped my upper arm to steady me.

“Alright, alright. As much as I enjoy listening to you, it seems only fair to teach you step one of thought blocking.”

Heat soaked through my clothes under his palm. “Is that why I can’t hear you?”

He nodded carefully. “I am very, very cautious to be sure I don’t share my thoughts with you.”

“Why not?”

He continued, completely ignoring my question. “The first thing to know about thought magic is that thoughts are like light. Thoughts zip through our minds like stars falling across a black sky.” I blinked dully. “Or…like a lamp shining its light, casting its ‘thoughts’ about the room.” His right-hand fingers tapped along the edge of my shoulder blade. Goosebumps erupted. “To block the light, you need to build a barricade, or a filter, around the lamp. Imagine building a wall of, oh, let’s say shadow bricks, around your mind. And add a door.”

As foolish as it sounded, I tried to do as he was describing. Black and swirly brick by shadowy brick, the walls formed. I pondered the door handle for a moment. I could choose the handle of my old room; it was round and bronze with a notch on the back half that my fingers had threaded a thousand times. Instead, I decided on the arching black iron handles of the manor.

“Don’t forget the roof.”

I hastily added a roof and a floor. I now had a lovely black box around a shining lamp. My cheeks heated; how was this anything more than an imagination game? “How do I know if it worked?”

His shoulder lifted, and his eyes glinted in amusement. “Probably think something.”

My mind went blank, thoughtless, and empty. I scraped the bottom of the thought-barrel. I have an itch on my back and my shoe is too…purple. I tried not to grimace at the ridiculous statements, but he didn’t flinch. “Did you hear that?” I asked.

He glanced up to the floor above us where the mother skunk was looking down at our interlude. “You blocked the thought.” He smiled and turned back up the stairs. “Now, you can imagine walls around other minds too, to help prevent interloping if you don’t want to hear it. The longer you are with m—within the castle, the stronger the magic will grow. You’ll want to block out some voices here and there. But if you keep everything too tightly shut, you might not hear the animals when they speak to you. ”

I stepped forward, trying to imagine my own black box staying as I went about my business. I peered at the Shade…remembering how he was the Evil Dark Lord and all. With a grin, I followed the Shade up the stairs, happy to test his resolve and my blocking. I like your Uncle. He was nice. I also like that he teases you. I glanced up to be sure he was still moving. I like your hands—they’re warm. I thought the Shade’s hands might be cold because you are Death. I wish I could trust you, but who could trust someone so handsome? I glanced up to be sure he kept climbing. I’d like to try out that kiss again sometime when I’m not dying.

The Shade stubbed his toe on the step and hobbled to the next one. Shadows surrounded us until he reached to grab the broken pot shard before him. “Missed a piece. Tripped on it.”

I squinted at him as he turned quickly and walked a little too stiffly. I glanced down at the mother skunk who had meandered under the tables.

“Did you hear anything?” I asked in my mind, opening a mental window in the box as I did.

She scratched at her nose. “ No, as I told him, I didn’t hear a thing. Only from my children.” One bumbled out from under a racerbristle as she spoke. “ I’ll go gather them up.” And she trotted away.

By the time I arrived at the top of the steps, the Shade was standing before a table that was set up near the racerbristles with shears in hand. “Begin. I’m curious how this compares to the potion recipes I’ve dabbled with in the last few years.”

Oh, great, extra pressure. I hesitantly grabbed my own shears and tapped the handle on my palm. “Well, I’ll need three leaves, one stem, and a twist of root from the racerbristles for every bottle.” The Shade remained silent. “Twenty leaves of white thieves, three stamen from the auralius flower, two drops from adimantus mushrooms, and one cup of spring water.”

“Anything else?”

“Fourteen bluebuds, five leaves of weatherwillow, and one thorn from the ice rose.”

His eyebrow rose farther.

“And the root of the rototuber.” I cleared my throat. “That’s all.”

His chuckle filled the space as his shadows danced.

“And…” Ice filled my veins.

He raised a wry eyebrow as if sensing my mood. “Yes, Dayspring?”

“I may have already started collecting some pieces.”

With hot cheeks, I stepped over to the box of dried goods and crushed racerbristle ingredients I had collected that first morning before the spyrings attacked and set them on the table in front of me. I wished the space between us was bigger to hide me from his rage. Instead, I looked up and found amusement glinting in his eyes.

“We are going to need more hands.” His shadow swept past me and down the stairs. Within minutes, the cries of able-bodied creatures echoed against the glass. The Shade’s shadow pulled a much larger pot up the stairs, and others brought large mixing bowls and enormous spoons. “Shall we?”

I stepped to his side, his very presence thickening the air that pressed against my skin and filled my lungs. His shadows idly swirled at my ankles, causing my gown to shift like gentle eddies of a cool river. My skin prickled where I felt his gaze. Twenty animals sat or stood, their attention solely on me.

Snipping a stem off the bush beside me, I set it into the bowl with a hesitant smile. “We shall.”

The animals burst into action. At first, the chaos of directing, collecting, and mashing the ingredients was almost overwhelming. But the racoons, ravens, skunks, squirrels, and crows were easily directed and brought the ingredients to me with a mere thought and brief image of my mind. The Shade filled in where my thoughts struggled, and soon, piles of the raw ingredients filled the tables around us.

The Shade rolled up his sleeves to reveal wholly ordinary and plain forearms that were definitely not corded with delicious muscles and that I was absolutely not watching as he worked. I was never distracted by his grin at the creatures’ antics, or his patient gaze as he awaited my instruction. The day drifted by, my back ached, and my hands cramped, but we pressed on.

Around midday, Uncle Koll stopped by with a tray of food and tea that he placed on a nearby shelf. His eyes glittered as he took in the sight, then he returned to the kitchen. Sweat beaded on my temple, and a shadow swept past me to open the window. Below the table, shadows beat like waves, fanning the space. At least Death was a useful sort.

Finally, twenty potions sat before us. The right pink hue. The right viscosity. The right odor. I beamed at the Shade. “These are by far the healthiest ingredients I have used in quite a while. Years maybe. Even the plants I’ve found recently were all incredibly dry.”

“I’ve made the loamer potion before, but I never added the auralius stamen.” He tilted his head in concession. “It’s an excellent addition.”

“The shelf life doubles with it. Father discovered it quite on accident. But it means the potion containers can be larger, and the doses will remain viable for much longer, so we can space out how often we make them.” I bounced on my toes. “All of this can make a real difference!” I thought of the queen and how much this might help her, and with a happy squeal, I rushed forward, wrapping my arms around the Shade’s waist .

Both of us froze. I coughed and moved to step back, but his arms swept around me and pulled me into his embrace as the shadows swept circles around us. The Shade smelled like forests and moss and dew on the meadow at dawn. My cheek buried deeper into his chest against my wishes. And then there were tears in my eyes. Wretched, wild tears that had no business being there. One fell on his sleeve.

“Oh, Dayspring.” His chest vibrated against my cheek. “Your face is leaking.”

I turned my nose into him. Muffled, I protested, “Is not.”

His thumb caressed gentle circles against my shoulder. “But why , Dayspring. Why the tears? Aren’t you happy?”

I was. I was happy that I could help the queen and have someone else’s help—even if it was the Shade. But how would I confess that to my kingdom’s greatest enemy?

“It’s been a long time since I had a hug,” I said instead, my cheeks flushing at the admission. “Chef sometimes hugs me, I guess, but not often, and not without leaving a cup of flour on me after.”

The shadows buffeted my legs, and I glanced at his face. It was angry. The Shade’s jaw muscles feathered as his eyes fixed on a distant point, the green and black swirling within them like violent storm clouds.

Fear slid down my spine, and I moved to skitter away. I knew anger. But he caught me again and brought his arm gently around my head to hold me tighter. “I’m sorry, Dayspring. I’m not angry at you.”

I sniffed. “You’re not?”

“I’m angry for you. On your behalf. Against those who should have…” He swallowed, and his hand drifted on my cheek, casting scattered thoughts through my mind. “ Kept you safe. Stayed their hand. Not your fault. Kill the ones that hurt you.” Before the thoughts were pulled back again. He said aloud, “Should have hugged you.” His fingers pulled through my hair softly. “Should have held you.”

I let out a loud, ungraceful sob before pressing myself more tightly into him. I tried to wrap it all back again, safely secure behind a veneer of polite curtsies and braced smiles. The tears, however, continued to fall unbidden. Awkwardly, I half-laughed. “Your shirt is getting soaked.”

“I’m very rich. I have another.”

“Probably some snot.”

“I live with animals. Namely, Uncle Koll.”

I giggled and sighed, pressing deeper into his embrace. Closing my eyes, I felt the tears begin drying on my cheeks. Questions tugged at me, but I was unwilling to voice them and disrupt the moment of safety I had found. How was he so rich? How did he come to Nuren? And how did he so badly insult the prince that all blame now rested on him? But I held my peace and watched the shadows dance about the table.

“Did I hear someone say my name?” Uncle Koll clunked up the stairs with a cane, and I flew away from the Shade. I desperately wiped at my eyes before turning with a practiced smile.

The Shade offered him a chair, which Uncle Koll sank into in heavily. He rubbed his knees and clasped the Shade’s hand with an affectionately aggressive pat. “There’s a good lad.” His eyes landed on the table and widened.

“That is some fine work there.” He tilted the potion back and forth. “It seems thicker than the ones you make for me.”

My mouth popped open, recalling the potion from the kitchen earlier. “You need racerbristle potions?”

“Why do you think he has so many plants, my dear? My earth magic is not as strong, so the sickness of the earth doesn’t make me quite as ill.” He raised his cane to eye level. “But it’s why I have this sun-cursed device I depend on so much.” He looked between the two of them. “May I?” The Shade looked at me and waited.

“Of course you may.” I pushed one toward the Shade who lifted it with a shadow to his uncle.

The first sip was loud and wet. “Well, hers tastes better than yours.”

“Taste is not important for healing,” the Shade muttered darkly.

“It is better for adhering, my boy. Sadly, I may be switching potion masters. But I will still take you up on your cheesecake skills.” Uncle Koll smacked his lips. “What is it missing in this one that you have in yours though?”

“Burnt aspen,” the Shade answered

I tilted my head. “Doesn’t that interact with the rototuber?”

The Shade shook his head. “It acts as a binder, prolonging the effect of the potions. In my sleeping draught, it expanded the rest from four hours to eight.”

I gaped at him. I had seen him use some potions during the spyring attack but had vastly underestimated how competent he was. He didn’t need me at all. The thought stung.

“ Not true, Dayspring.”

I blinked back tears, and Uncle Koll spoke again. “You know, that one time you added micahra, that one dust, to that…poison, I think. Didn’t it actually heal the skin instead of burn it?”

“But micahra…” I started. We’d used it when we arrived here when my father had made a poultice for his arm wound. “I didn’t think you could drink it.”

“Maybe in smaller portions,” the Shade rumbled.

I tapped my lips. “Maybe with lemonseed to augment the bones.”

“Or perhaps the root of the kilterberry might help,” the Shade added .

“Kilterberry?” I asked.

“The one with the stars for leaves.”

“You would choose something with stars.” I smiled. “But Father said that causes headaches.”

“Only because it boosts the mind.”

Uncle Koll chuckled loudly. “Alright you two, enough for this old man. All I know is that whatever you two concoct, I’ll be happy to test it out.” He stood without using the table. “This potion’s a good one. My knee isn’t quite so angry now.” He walked more easily to the stairs. “My boy, if you would.” The Shade’s hand wavered ever so slightly as he reached out and created a shadow chair for his uncle. “So long for now.” And with a wave, the shadows carried Uncle Koll back down the stairs.

I started tidying up the potions to be boxed up when I noticed the Shade take a small sip out of one. He set it down in the box as if to hide what he’d done. Then he turned and pushed in his chair. “Dayspring, tomorrow, I think we should figure out how to augment this potion.”

I bit my lip and focused on the table.

“Spill it, Dayspring.”

“What about cloudy mossweed?”

The Shade paused. “For what, exactly?”

“I just…I wonder if it could be heated and separated. The concentrate could maybe help with the fatigue.”

“Do you think it would do more than the adimantus mushroom?”

“Yes, since that’s really more of a nutrition supplement.”

A swirl of shadow was the only sign of his consideration. “Maybe…maybe if we combine it with—”

“Bitterroot,” we said together .

He smiled, and his eyes crinkled before they narrowed. “The trouble is, lately I’ve only seen the cloudy mossweed on the western cave walls. The ones on the cliffs near the castle were all killed off.”

I deflated. “So it’s too dangerous because of the spyrings?”

His lips peeled back in a smile that looked much like the wolf’s. “Nothing is too dangerous for us, Dayspring.”

“Then…we could go get some?”

Swirling out, the Shade descended the stairs. “Let’s go tomorrow. Maybe some of the scary beasties will be sleeping the day away.”

Tomorrow. The caves. I shuddered at the thought of the spyrings, but my fear was short-lived, replaced by the image of a potion that was better, stronger, and would help even more.

I couldn’t give the prince what he wanted, but maybe I—maybe we could still help the queen.

I was afraid to wonder too hard about why the Shade would be willing to save his enemy. For a moment, I worried that he would try to poison her, but if Uncle Koll was our test subject, of course he’d be careful. I jolted at the realization that I trusted that relationship. I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to keep myself on guard and remember what I knew before I came here. The Shade was darkness, evil, vile…

“Tired, Dayspring. The Shade is tired. Let’s go to bed.” His steps seemed heavier as each struck the stone floor with a click. He swept a whirl of shadow around the room, dousing the lamps. I shuddered and stepped closer. I frowned in confusion at my own actions. If I really thought the Shade was vile, then why would I move closer to him just because I feared the dark? I really should be more careful of my thoughts.

“Sorry.” My face flushed as my fingers slid to my necklace.

“Your thoughts were leaking.”

“Sorry. ”

There was a pause as he slowed his steps. “I like knowing your thoughts.” His eyes swirled with blackness as he regarded me, his gaze a weight that trickled across my skin.

A burst of nerves fluttered through my belly.

Fear, certainly. Those nerves must be fear.