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The apothecary bell jingled as I opened the door, my mind still stuck on Dimitri’s fight yesterday. His movements had been like water, his face cold, almost unbothered, until that man attacked me. I had seen many killers when working for my stepfather. Avoided them. But when Dimitri pressed me close, I’d only wanted to stay.
On Palace Road, busy no matter what else happened in the city, we had said our goodbyes, both unable to meet the other’s eyes. I had wanted to thank and condemn him. To kiss and press close. To ask forgiveness and confess all I could. To bring him back to my hidden theater attic, remove his coat, and ease my hands under his shirt, and complete what we started that final night in the palace.
Then he’d stepped back, eyes flashing with emotions I could not read, and was gone.
And here I was, more desperate for answers than ever. The words shouted yesterday had been too familiar. I needed to find my sister.
The glass windows in Popova’s shop had been replaced, the singed wood cleaned and painted. Inside, the well-to-do mixed with the poor, purchasing potions and herbal remedies. From the steady stream of customers, it seemed Popova was doing better than ever.
Only the nobles could go to the healers. The rest of Tal would be turned away at the hospital gates. So we had Popova, the Witch of Lowtown. Maybe she was no more witch than I was—much like a noble, she kept the flavor of her magic secret. Not only did she heal, for a price, she hurt. She, Kirill, and Keep—head of the workers by day, thugs by night—were the unquestionable Lowtown powers. Or had been. Would my stepsister really step up to take her father’s place?
Two years ago, I had pounded on Popova’s door and asked her to heal Lumi and paid the steep charge for her services—making it impossible for us to escape Kirill. On the night of the fire, Lumi told me Popova was the one who had cursed away our magic. She was the source not only of my debt but the inherited one from our mother.
Popova had unleashed Lumi’s magic that night, and afterward, my twin somehow found our great-grandmother. Perhaps after discovering her death magic, she’d gone to the temples in search of answers.
I had passed Popova’s shop daily, greeted her politely if I ever saw her, and all the while she had known what should have been my secrets. Conspired with Lumi while leaving me in the dark. Stealing my sister from me.
Unknowingly, I had worked my whole life to pay a woman who held the secrets of our past. The least she owed me was answers, for Lumi had slipped that Popova introduced her to the rebels.
If anyone could find my sister, it was Popova. She was also the last person I wanted to cross.
During the fire, she saved me and Alexei by speaking up, unknowingly protecting the Crown Prince of Tal. I did not assume her unexpected compassion would be repeated today.
A dark-skinnedgirl, presumably a grandchild or possibly great-grandchild, even younger than me stood behind the counter wearing a pristine apron with her hair in a thick braid, not a strand escaping. When she turned to show the waiting customer something in a glass jar, I strode past before she could stop me.
Prior to playing a princess, I would never have dared enter the back rooms without permission.
Releasing my hold on the magic enough to sense which rooms were empty, I strode down the hallway. Lumi and von Lemerch were cold, Dimitri wild behind his walls, and at the end of the corridor, I sensed something new. A soft note, twisting itself into the others’ melodies.
Without hesitation, I opened the last door.
A single person, her energy angular and hard, sat inside.
The old, black woman, gray hair in a proper bun and dress more appropriate for Upper Midtown or North’s Place, looked up from her desk as I entered. Where Morovara appeared frail, no one would associate that word with Popova. But she was still old and I young.
Before she could rise, I placed my hands over hers and pressed them onto the table. Magic danced from me to her, enough that I would know if she lied.
And I had no doubt she would lie.
“Where’s my sister?”
“You should have left Tal,” Popova said, outwardly unbothered by my sudden appearance. “This is no place for innocence.”
I smiled without an ounce of friendliness, feeling her hidden tension through our touch.
“You’ve talked to her.”
The music pitched in recognition.
“And you’ve found your magic.” Popova leaned closer, interest playing inside her. “That display on the street was truly remarkable. And when the griffon arrived—a lorist’s tale on my very own doorstep.”
I tensed. “Why didn’t you tell me what I was?”
“I respected your mother’s and sister’s wishes and let you be. If it had been up to me, you’d have been trained and put to use—a bloodline such as yours shouldn’t be wasted.”
No one was using me ever again.“What about my wishes?”
“If I hadn’t feared for your sister’s life had she not learned to control her powers, I would never have said anything. You paid me to help her, and I did my best, girl, despite being given much more for my silence long ago.”
