Warriors of Wind and Ash - Page 87

“You can see it all written down, right there.” She nods to the book again. “Flip it open to the page where the ribbon is—that’s right. He’s my most recent spell. I wrote all the ingredients at the top of the page, and the incantation below. Every spell must be written down and read aloud, you see. Crafted with the hand, interpreted with the eyes, and activated with the mouth—it’s the principle of trifold intent. The words are spoken over the completed poison, and then it can be used as needed.”

I glance at the list she indicated, darting my eyes back to her every couple of seconds. I refuse to be caught off guard again.

“What I’m doing now is trying to counteract the inhibitor—the sun-blessed opal—with a combination of wretchroot, onyx granules, and dried oxshade flowers,” she says. “Essentially I am poisoning the poison I gave him. Not so easy. At least I have a larger sample of his blood this time. That should help.”

“Why didn’t Thelise have to take samples from all the dragons when she enchanted them?” I ask.

“Because she cast a wide-ranging transformative charm. To encompass the whole dragon race in her spell, she would only need something from one member of the species, not all. If you want to target an individual, the wording of the spell is different, the ingredients are different, and it takes far less energy. But you still need fluids, hair, or a piece of flesh from your target. Hand me that brown packet, the one with the flower printed on it.”

I pass her the packet with my left hand, keeping the knife ready in my right.

“The poison I created for the Middenwold Isles was a brilliant bit of work, I must say,” she continues, inspecting the contents of the packet. “I used earth from the Isles and some hair from each species, along with a scale shed by a dragon during the war. It’s written on paper, not bound with any long-lasting ingredients, so its effects will wear off in a month or so.”

“But the poison you made for me… is permanent,” I say.

“As I said, your spell is carved into a lovely piece of petrified wood, meant to last for a lifetime, and the poison in your veins contains perdura root to keep your body from eradicating it. I would need an extremely rare and powerful counteragent to negate what I’ve done to you. There’s nothing strong enough in this study, this palace, or this city.”

An extremely rare and powerful counteragent. Like the blood of a female dragon who’s immune to magic. Which means Aeris and her sorcerer friend are truly my last hope.

“I’m making the antidote for your dragon because it’s practically useless,” the poisoner continues mildly. “You’ll never get it to him without being caught, and even if you do and he’s able to shift, he won’t touch Rahzien as long as you two are linked. If Kyreagan manages to leave the city with his life, the only things waiting for him on Ouroskelle are the bones of his dead clan.”

“You don’t know that.”

“Oh, but I do. My poisons always work exactly as intended.” She smiles placidly.

Her face infuriates me so much, it’s all I can do not to stab her again.

“You said you wouldn’t kill humans, but the dragons are human now, too,” I point out. “If your poison worked, you’ve broken your own rule. And you’ve also caused the death of the captured women on the island, who might not survive without their dragons.”

“The dragons aren’t human at all. They’re anomalies. Abominations. Hybrid creatures…” But a troubled expression shadows her face. “Partly human,” she mutters. “I wonder if… no, that wouldn’t make a difference. It shouldn’t.”

Frowning, she mixes some bits of root and black granules into an oily suspension in a small glass bottle, then adds a pinch of dust from a brown packet and stirs until the liquid turns blue. “Rip the page with your dragon’s spell out of the book,” she says. “We’re almost done.”

I do as she requests, and she burns the spell for Kyreagan in a bowl. Using a funnel, she drains ash from the destroyed spell into the glass bottle, stoppers it, and hands it to me.

“There you are. This will let your shifter turn himself into a dragon again. Not that it will do him much good.”

She’s smiling pleasantly, but there’s something in her eyes—a festering concern.

“How do I know this won’t kill him as soon as he takes it?” I ask.

“You can’t know, dearie. You’ll have to trust me.”

“If this fails, I’ll kill you,” I tell her. “I make you that solemn promise. If you’re responsible for Kyreagan’s death in any way, either by the poison already in his body or this concoction, I’ll kill you, no matter how many years I have to wait. If he dies, and I’m trapped with Rahzien, you and I are going to be part of the King’s inner circle for a very long time, which means we’ll be close to each other, and I’ll have plenty of chances to end you for good. I won’t give you a chance to heal next time. I’ll cut off your head and burn it, do you understand?”

“Such violence in one so young!” The poisoner lays a plump hand over her chest. “Although I suppose it’s not surprising, since your mother was such a warmongering bitch.”

“She was.” I release a short, caustic laugh. “And the daughter of that warmongering bitch is waiting for your promise, that this vial will do what you say it will.”

“It will, I swear.” The veneer of her calm cracks, and beneath it I see something surging—something more than irritation. It’s impatience, or alarm. Fear, but not fear of me. This isn’t about my threats, or my violent attack on her earlier. This is fear of something else, fear so great she can barely sit still.

Mentally I rehearse the most recent bits of our conversation. When did she start to look unsettled in a different way?

It was shortly after I said, The dragons are human now, too.

After which she muttered, Partly human… I wonder if… no, that wouldn’t make a difference. It shouldn’t.

I don’t think she was feeling guilty, pondering any transgression of her personal morality. She was realizing something significant. Something that changes the game.