AllFreeNovel
Share Us
I smiled, grateful to the girl who’d been so willing to help me. My smile didn’t last long, though. Just thinking about the nature of our journey made my stomach churn, the weighted satchel at my side an ever-present reminder. I eyed Clay trailing behind me. It was a good thing golems couldn’t talk or think for themselves—only follow orders. The fewer beings who knew we were there—and why—the better.
“It’s just up ahead,” Tarra said, nodding her chin toward a wooden door at the end of the stone tunnel.
Thank the Creators.
Following her lithe form into the room, I blinked in surprise as she went around, lighting the sconces on the wall from the flame in the lantern. The room didn’t smell nearly as bad as the corridor we’d just left, and as the light spread, I realized why. Hanging from the ceiling were hundreds of bushels of drying herbs, filling the air with a sharp, tangy scent. My eyes widened, taking in the small, crowded space—made even smaller when Clay shoved himself into one of the cluttered corners. Shelves lined the walls, packed with ceramic canisters and large woven baskets like the ones we’d made back at the monastery.
“See.” Tarra exclaimed with a twirl. “Not all that bad, right?”
“Not at all,” I acknowledged, sidling over to a shelf and lifting a clay lid. A familiar sweet smell wafted from the creamy-looking ointment it contained. . . like lavender and rose petals.
“That’s a jar of the empress' specially ordered lotion,” Tarra explained. “And those on either side of it are yours and Lady Ariadne’s.” Wow, that sounded really pompous. Ididhave a preference for honey and almond lotion, but I’d never realized that it was made especially for me. I’d just assumed the maids knew what I liked.
“Come.” Tarra gestured for me to follow, skipping her way over to a heavily burdened wood table, piled high with more herbs, bottles, jars, books, mortars, pestles, and several other objects I had no clue of their name or purpose.
“Wow, looks like you’ve been. . . busy.”
Tarra winked, shoving things out of the way. “Yeah, I need to work on my organizational skills.” She grabbed one of the wooden bowls from a stack near the edge of the table and placed it before us. Scampering around the room, she muttered under her breath as she collected several objects from varying shelves.
“So, you’re sure you know what you’re doing?” I asked, worrying my lip with my teeth as my friend worked.
“Of course,” Tarra called back over her shoulder, still rummaging around. “It’s straightforward enough of a principle, and I’ve performed it with the priestess' help several times. It shouldn’t be any different on my own.”
Shouldn’t. My stomach plummeted, and I collapsed onto a short stool alongside the table. My life hung on the chance of finding out what poison Ryker had used. If Tarra couldn’t figure it out, what else could I do? He didn’t seem the type to be easily won over, though I hadn’t given up on that avenue of escape completely.
“Even though we don’t have the actual herbs, just traces of them?” I asked, withdrawing the dagger from the satchel at my side. It still looked too clean to me, but I prayed that some residue lingered.
“If there’s anything left on that knife, I’ll be able to pick it up.” Tarra returned to my side, depositing a metronome and flask of clear water on the table. Her nose wrinkled at the sight of the knife. “You’re still not going to tell me what this is for?”
“I’m just curious.”
Her eyes held mine for a second longer, filled with questions, but she didn’t voice them. “Alright, shall we give it a go?”
I nodded, holding out the knife. Her lips pursed, but after a pause she took the weapon from me and dropped it in the bowl like it burned.
“You really are healer material.” I chuckled, nudging her with my shoulder.
“I’ll take that as a compliment.” She sniffed, pouring water over the knife.
“Itisa compliment. I just think your aversion to weapons is amusing—”
“They end lives, Kaleah,” Tarra murmured, a hardness lining her face. “You of all people should know that.”
“I do,” I said, reaching out to touch her hand. “And I’m sorry.”
Tarra took a deep breath. “It’s okay.” She reached out to start the metronome and, closing her eyes, she rested her fingertips in the water. The rippling liquid stilled, and I held my breath. Tarra’s face scrunched in concentration.
“Can you see anything?” I leaned in closer.
“There is a residue on the blade, but it’s not something I’m familiar with, and it’s refusing to reveal itself to me—”
“That’s because the poison isn’t from a plant,” a raspy voice sounded from behind me.
I spun, smacking into the corner of the table and sending half of the objects there flying to the floor as I came face to face with the scariest looking woman I’d ever seen.
“Oh, Granny Fontaine,” Tarra chirped, removing her hands from the water and giving the older woman a quick bow. “She’s my mentor,” she added for my benefit.
Granny Fontaine’s scarred, wrinkled face bunched up as she smirked, patting Tarra on the head. She turned to me, her one good eye—the other covered in a thick ball of scar tissue—raking me up and down. “Princess.”
