Page 90 of Too Hexed to Handle

‘No, she wanted Ozias to make a potion. A very special kind of potion.’ The smile Damian gives me chills me to my core. ‘One that would make her a Souleater.’

A stunned silence fills the room, which only makes Damian’s smile wider, like the idea of knowing something we don’t makes this moment all the sweeter.

Astin recovers first. ‘That’s why you sent us after the potion? To become one of them?’

‘But . . . but . . .’ is my helpful contribution to the conversation. My mind is whirling, trying to remember every word of the letter. ‘She was blackmailing him,’ I say slowly. ‘She turned everyone against Souleaters so that he would give in, to stop his friends and family being persecuted. She said she’d fix everything after he made the potion, because she didn’t want the wardens hunting her, should they find out what she’d become.’

Damian nods. ‘Humans were demanding too much from the Souleaters. They went from trading a pleasant emotion in exchange for a magical item, to demanding . . . more. They wanted gold conjured from thin air. Pet wraiths that could do their bidding. Potions that would never run out. The Souleaters refused, claimed their magic couldn’t stretch that far, and, more than that, the humans banging on their door were all anger and greed. The Souleaters wanted nothing to do with their emotions. They moved to the settlement for some peace and quiet, to limit the amount of visitors they’d receive.

‘The humans didn’t like this, Clarabelle least of all. Said it wasn’t fair they didn’t have magic of their own. Clarabelle was already in a relationship with Ozias – I believe they were happy, for a time, before she got jealous and began making demands. Unfortunately for Ozias, it transpires the potion she wanted him to make came with some unpleasant side effects.’

‘It was going to kill him.’

‘Allegedly.’ That strange smile still plays on Damian’s face. I have no idea where I fit into his plans for the potion yet, but I have a horrible feeling I’m not going to like it any more than Ozias did. ‘When it became apparent Ozias was never giving Clarabelle the potion, she killed him. Then she realised she’d done a little too good a job at turning humans against Souleaters, and claimed they’d stolen a cure from her. At her order, humans have been searching for it ever since, thinking it will rid them of the thing they hate most, when in reality . . . it has the potential to create more.’

I swallow. ‘So why not drink the potion and be done with it, if you want to be one of us so badly?’

‘When Ozias realised the amount of magic required to make the potion might kill him, he abandoned the attempt. I need a Souleater to finish it.’

Astin struggles harder than ever, while I shake my head. ‘Well, I have bad news for you. My magic is depleted, but even if I had it in abundance, I wouldn’t use it to help you.’

‘Good thing I have a supply of humans down the hall to replenish you. And you will help me with this, Daisy.’ He drops the potion back into his pocket, then tugs on the ends of his gloves. ‘I cannot guarantee what will happen to you if you finish the potion. Perhaps Ozias was wrong about its fatal outcome. Or perhaps enough of his magic is inside, and I won’t require much of yours. But I can guarantee what will happen if you don’t try. Or perhaps I’ll start with your friend. Do you think he’ll look more fetching immortalised as a statue, or crushed into emerald pieces?’

‘Don’t listen to him,’ Astin murmurs.

I’m not sure I have a choice, unless I can convince Damian to stop this terrible idea altogether.

‘Damian, think of the way people treat you because of your family, because of your gloves. It’ll be worse if you’re a Souleater. You’ll be forced to live in secret, looking over your shoulder for wardens, for people who hate your kind. You’ll have to watch them celebrate the death of your people every single year, and they’ll do it under the guise of love.’

‘That’s where you’re wrong,’ he says. ‘Because I will be the Emerald King. Our last monarch had to rely on a Souleater to keep him in power. The only reason the king befriended Ozias at all was because his child was one. The Souleaters stole the princess away before the wardens came, but they took an abundance of gold with her. She had children. Grandchildren. And one of those ancestors wasted away the entire royal fortune so that his son got nothing.’

‘You,’ I whisper.

‘Me. I am descended from a line of Souleaters and kings, and what did I have to show for it? No magic. No money. No respect. But when I’m both Souleater and king, I will rely solely on myself. I’ll be able to create all the gold and healing potions and happiness charms I need to make the people love me. And if they don’t, I will have the power to make them suffer.’

‘It doesn’t work that way,’ I say. ‘You won’t be able to make those potions without channelling positive emotions. And if I can’t find a way to harness them, you certainly won’t. Not if you take this path.’

‘Don’t tell me what I can’t do. I’ve heard it my whole life. No more.’ He pulls the collar of his robe to reveal a hexmark, the twin of the one Eira gave him. ‘It was an excellent cover, choking me at the same time. I didn’t realise what you were until I reached the ruins and saw this.’

Shit. I had no idea I’d hexed him. I inhale, trying to use whatever connection I have to his mark to work out what his new hex is, if it’s something I can use to my advantage, but it’s hard to focus with Astin wriggling beside me, with Damian so cool, so calm, so un-fucking-feeling.

‘To think, I almost killed you. I kept you alive because I did feel a kinship with you, Daisy. And now I know why. You have what I need.’ He smirks. ‘Persuading Eira to risk her life finishing the potion would always have been a challenge, so you can imagine my delight when I discovered there was a different Souleater in Rerta. One who I knew would do as I asked with the right encouragement.’ His gaze slides to Astin again.

‘If you go near him –’

‘You’ll what?’ Damian cocks a brow as Astin twists from side to side. ‘When it came down to it, you couldn’t hurt me the other day. You won’t hurt me today either.’ The look he gives me is one of pure revulsion. ‘All that potential, and you don’t use it. Eira’s the same. After her parents’ deaths, she was hiding out in that house. Had barely spoken to another person in years. I thought she was odd, but I was glad to have somewhere to stay, and, I confess, it was refreshing having someone hang on to my every word for a change. She was so desperate for company, I could have said anything, and she’d have agreed with it. Then she went and hexed me. She cried, afterwards. Incessantly. Confessed what she really was and begged for my forgiveness. Told me she didn’t want to use her magic. I’d never despised her more. She’d inherited a gift that should have been mine and yet was unwilling to embrace her true nature.’

‘Seems like she’s embraced it pretty hard since then,’ I say, although my voice trembles. Eira might be awful now, but, like me, she grew up with no guidance. Worse even, because although my parents might not know much about me, at least they’re alive. The first person who paid Eira any attention was Damian, who only wanted her to stroke his ego, and then hated her the moment he found out what she was. ‘Attacking Shiverholde. Rerta. Everyone in the basement.’

‘You think that was her idea?’ he scoffs. ‘At first, I tried to settle for being at her side. I thought we could find a way to rule this city together, and suggested she attack the Laevothe festival in Shiverholde as a starting point. Her parents were killed there. She was still resistant to using her magic, but I convinced her she deserved revenge. And yet, she still hesitated. I was watching from afar, and she spotted me among the crowd and froze completely. Even with the veil on, I could almost see her pleading with me, asking permission to stop. And that was when I knew she would never be enough.

‘She continued to resist my efforts at making her stronger, so I resorted to trawling through her library, hoping I’d find something to entice her into behaving as she should, and eventually I found something better. Once I learned about Ozias’s potion, I knew what needed to be done. That I could finally have everything I wanted. A whole city at my fingertips, ready for my rule, ready to respect me at last.’

He pauses, as though expecting us to be impressed by this. Honestly, I think the only reason he isn’t immediately pressuring me to work on the potion is because he wants some kind of ovation, like he’s once again standing on that podium at the party, waiting for us to applaud his accomplishments.

Instead, I realise something about what he’s just said, and burst out laughing. ‘For you to have a city at your fingertips, you’d need to take your gloves off. Even if I get this potion to work, you won’t ever be able to use magic, Damian, because you can’t touch another person.’

A muscle in his jaw ticks, and I take immeasurable pleasure in the sight. ‘What do you think Eira’s experiments were for? I brought her Yvette and the others, so she could find a way to channel without touch. I told her it would make her more powerful, and maybe then I would want her. By that point, she was so terrified of being alone again, she did it without question. I waited and waited for her to succeed, and eventually ran out of patience.’