“What is this?” Kiyan’s forehead wrinkled and he shot me a concerned glance.
“I don’t know. I’ve never seen anything like it before.” Nothing like this had been in any of the other vaults I’d cracked into, nor in any of my research on the ancient fae.
The liquid was clear, and the bottom of the bowl had the same golden carving of a jasmine on it. I looked around the chamber, but there was nothing else. No drawings or markings that could be instructions.
I placed my hands on either side of the bowl and released my magic, seeing if it would point the way.
The golden threads filled the room, stretching out across the chamber and climbing up the pedestal.
Then they began to weave together and collect in the bottom of the black bowl.
Kiyan let out a whistle through his teeth, still not used to me using magic, but I was concentrating on what the threads were doing.
“I think we have to empty the liquid.” I frowned at the obsidian bowl, trying to puzzle out what this new challenge was.
“That can’t be the only thing we have to do. It’s far too easy.”
I agreed, but I didn’t want to tell him the heavy dread settling in my stomach at what I suspected was required from us. I cupped my hands and plunged them into the bowl in an attempt to scoop out some of it, but as soon as I touched the surface, it turned to ice.
“How...?” I stared at the bowl again, the ice back in liquid form as soon as I moved my hands away.
Kiyan tried, tapping at the ice when it formed, and then trying to punch it when he lost patience. He cursed under his breath and bent down to examine the rest of the pedestal. “Does the bowl lift?”
My hands gripped either side of the bowl and it lifted easily from the pedestal. I tipped it to the side, trying to pour it out on the ground. The liquid immediately froze, and the stone became a burn of ice against my hands.
“Ouch!” I put the bowl back, nearly dropping it from the pain. Rubbing my hands together, I tried to breathe warmth back into them. “I’m not doing that again.”
Kiyan looked up at the hole flooding natural light into the chamber, and then around the room. “There’s nothing else here. It has to be this.”
“I think we may have to drink it.” I spoke the words that had been sitting in my gut from as soon as I saw the liquid.
Silence stretched between us, and Kiyan shot me a wary look. “We don’t know what it is.”
I leaned down to sniff it. “I know. But it’s the only other option. I’ll drink it.”
“No.” He put his hand on my shoulder.
“Then we can both drink it.”
“If it’s poison, it’s better if only one of us consumes it.” “And besides, your power may unlock doors and show us the way, but mine has its uses too.”
He picked up the bowl in his large hands, ignoring the hiss of cold against his skin, his only reaction a slight grimace. This time, as he pressed it to his mouth, the liquid melted again. He lifted his brows, watching me over the rim. “To Queen Azari’s health.”
“She’s dead.”
He choked as he swallowed it, but I couldn’t tell if it was because he was in pain or laughing.
“Are you all right?” I smacked him hard on the back.
“By the River—now I’m not. You didn’t have to hit me that hard, I’m not choking.” He took another long swig, the muscles in his throat moving as he swallowed with great effort.
Afterward, he grimaced and doubled over, sweat beading across his brow. “It’s not my favorite libation,” he croaked out.
He lifted the bowl once more and drank the remainder, muttering a low curse after his third drink. Then he replaced the bowl, his knuckles white as he gripped the pedestal.
“How do you feel?”
“Like my insides are being sucked out of my skin by a snake.”
