Poison (20 page)

T
HEY WERE UP BEFORE DAWN
the next day.

Kyra and her friends joined Dartagn and a contingent of the duke’s guards on the road to the royal palace in Wexford. The party was quiet as they made their way to the castle, as though they’d used up their share of joy the night before. Kyra had knots in her stomach as she thought about what lay ahead.

Even picking up Rosie from the miller’s wife didn’t relieve the tension building in her.

The closer they got to the castle, the more she worried.

No matter the reason, she had tried to kill the princess. Would the king and queen understand? Would they believe her?

Ariana was back in her own clothes, and her hair had been prettily pinned by one of the duchess’s maids. When they reached the front gate of the castle, the guards lowered their weapons at the sight of Dartagn and their princess.

Kyra looked up at the ramparts and groaned. “Maybe you should go ahead and explain.”

“It’s going to be fine,” Ariana whispered, taking Kyra’s hand. “You’re the hero. They aren’t going to throw you in the dungeon. I won’t let them.”

“Thanks, Ari.” They made their way with Rosie down the curving walk to the palace entrance.

Fred came up behind them and put a hand on their shoulders. “You’ll make sure they won’t throw me in the dungeon too, right, Ari? I did sort of disappear there—not the best way to make a first impression on foreign royalty.…”

“We’ll see,” Ariana responded cheerfully.

She led them through the tall arched front doors of the castle and into the receiving room, while Dartagn went ahead to inform the king and queen.

Kyra sat on one of the sofas. Rosie curled up on a tasseled pillow.

No one spoke.

At last, the door swung open and in walked the king in full regal dress, his crown firmly planted on his head, the queen trailing behind.

“So,” the king boomed, “I hear we have a plot on our hands.”

Kyra stood up and bowed to the royal couple. “Your Majesty?” Her heart in her throat, she straightened.

The king’s eyes were on her, and she couldn’t look away. “I hope you’re planning to see this thing through, young lady,” he said. “Dartagn insisted you be the one to lead the party to capture Arlo Abbaduto. I can’t help but agree. No one is braver, truer, or more capable.”

Relief flooded through Kyra.

The queen stepped up beside the king. “But don’t even think for a minute that this party will include
you
, young lady,” she said to Ariana. “Or you,” she said to Fred. “I can’t imagine what your parents would say if they heard you’d been involved with this.”

The king opened his arms to his daughter. “We’re so relieved to have you back.” Ariana accepted the hug while her mother patted her shortened locks.

“So short, Ariana! Was this really necessary?”

“Of course it was, Mom. You don’t think I’d have done it if it hadn’t been, do you?”

A wry smile appeared on the queen’s face. She knew just how little reason the princess needed to shear off her hair.

The king gave his daughter one last squeeze, then pulled back. “We’ve got work to do.”

Within a few hours, Kyra was standing in the sun-dappled woods north of the city, surrounded by a contingent of the King’s Army, who were going to assist in the capture of Arlo Abbaduto. Two members of the team had been a surprise to Kyra. They weren’t soldiers.

They were potioners.

Hal and Ned.

They’d come up to her beforehand, looking like puppies who’d eaten her slippers.

“Kyra,” Hal said. “I’m so sorry. We—”

“It’s okay,” Kyra said. “I wish you’d trusted me, but I don’t hold it against you.”

“I would if I were you,” Hal said. “I was a fool. You always
were
too headstrong for me.”

“And you never were…”

He waited. “Yes? Never what?”

“I don’t know.
Enough
, I guess? Sorry,” Kyra said.

He nodded and said, “True.”

“I’m glad you’re back, Kyra.” A grin took over Ned’s wide face. “Hal’s been driving me nuts.”

Kyra smiled. “I’m glad to be back.”

“We’re in this together, right?” Hal said.

“Yeah, Hal, we’re in this together.” It was shocking to her to realize she meant what she said.

“Arlo is a formidable enemy,” Kyra began, speaking to the team. “We cannot underestimate him. Hopefully, we’ll have the element of surprise, because wherever he’s hiding, we’ll find him. We’ve got this.”

She held up a small container—one she’d kept since her dealings with the King of Criminals. Something inside it rattled angrily, like a bug in a box. “Inside is a potioners’ coin, one of a handful I paid to Arlo a few weeks ago. I changed the owner’s imprint over to him, but I held on to one of the coins…as an insurance policy. I didn’t know whether I could trust him or not.”

One of the soldiers snorted.

“Of
course
I couldn’t trust him,” she added, and the group broke into quiet laughter. “This coin, once released, will do whatever it can to find Arlo.”

Potioners’ coins were driven by two distinct traits: a need to be with their owners, and sneakiness. They waited until there was no chance that anyone would notice, then they slipped out of the till or pocket they’d been put in and slowly found their way back home. But the coins weren’t
smart
—they were easy to fool. Kyra knew that all she had to do was pretend to look the other way.

She opened the container, fished the coin out, and set it on the ground. Then she made a great show of crossing her arms and looking up at the treetops.

Out of the corner of her eye she saw the coin quiver, flip up onto its edge, and then roll away into the woods.

“And with that, gentlemen, the hunt is on!”

They’d been riding so long that it was now late afternoon, and Kyra was behind the soldiers she’d set to keep watch on the coin. They’d let their mounts graze, and casually notice the coin wiggle and roll away down the path, then they’d nudge their horses forward.

Ned brought his horse up beside Kyra’s.

Her life had changed so much in the past day. No longer was she chasing after her best friend. She was
with
the army instead of hiding from them. She was part of the Master Trio of Potioners again.

And she was following a coin as it merrily rolled along through the woods.

“You haven’t been on a horse in a while, have you?” Ned asked.

“Do I look that bad? My riding muscles and calluses are completely gone. I feel like an idiot.”

“You’ll get them back. It’ll just take a little bit of time.” He gently touched her shoulder. “So tell me about this potion you created—the one that will take down the shape-shifter things.”

“The shape-shifter things are called obeekas, and there are at least two with Arlo,” Kyra said. “I was hoping you and Hal would be the ones to go after them while I focus on capturing Arlo.”

Hal had ridden up on her other side. “Of course we will.”

Kyra caught Ned rolling his eyes.

She nudged him with her foot and continued. “It’s a concoction using the Cera Truth Serum. Peccant Pentothal is too dangerous to use unless absolutely necessary, and I don’t think we need anything that strong anyway. Just something to cast the obeekas in their true form so we can bind them.”

“
That
is brilliant,” Hal said, his eyes glowing.

“We needed something you two can throw easily, so I created these.” She showed them a dozen small balloons she’d filled with the potion. “Just like our old water balloon fights in summer.” She felt wistful for a moment thinking about it. Those days were gone forever.

Hal hefted one in his hand. He looked wistful too. “It’s a good idea, Kyra. These will work well.”

In a town a half day’s ride outside Wexford, the coin began moving more erratically, zigging and zagging.

“That strange behavior means the coin is almost home,” Kyra said. “We’re near Arlo.” It had grown dark and was well past dinnertime. Down the street was a large pub blazing with light.

The coin began vibrating as it neared the building.

Kyra slid off her horse and caught the coin in front of the pub. Then everyone dismounted and gathered by the entrance. They all knew their roles.

“There could be innocents inside. Try not to kill anyone.” She checked her weapons.

Kyra stepped inside—Hal on the left of her, Ned on the right, the soldiers filing in behind. The pub smelled stale, like grease and old ale.

She spotted Arlo immediately at a gaming table on the far end of the pub, his back to the wall. The position of power. The guy next to him looked weirdly familiar.

“Arlo Abbaduto.” Kyra’s voice rang out over the sounds of the filled tavern. “You are under arrest by order of the King of Mohr for a plot against the kingdom.” The room quieted as everyone turned to look at her. “Do not resist arrest. Anyone who obstructs us will be considered in league with the plot against the kingdom and tried as such.”

Silence followed. The eyes on Kyra were unfriendly. Men missing teeth, covered in scars, and clutching mugs of ale leered.

Then Arlo started to laugh. “Ha-ha-ha!”

The crowd joined in. Soon the whole room quaked with laughter.

“So nice of you to come visit, Master Potioners,” Arlo said. “I hope you don’t mind if we disagree on how this is going to go. You see, you’re outnumbered. Men,” he shouted, “kill the king’s soldiers!”

And suddenly the room broke into motion, the men in the bar surging forward even as the soldiers brandished swords and pulled Kyra and Hal and Ned backward. The air was filled with the clash of metal and shouts and grunts, and fists and boots hitting flesh.

Kyra tried to get a glimpse of Arlo through the melee, but was pushed down to the floor by two brawling men.

Quickly, she stuck them both with Doze needles and shoved them away. Hal and Ned each took a hand and pulled her back on her feet.

There was no way around the tumult. Arlo was right—they were vastly outnumbered. She was going to have to change the odds a bit.

“I’m going to try taking a few people out,” Kyra shouted to Hal and Ned as she jumped up on a table.

Needles tipped in Doze rained from the air until Kyra found herself flung up as someone flipped over the table. Her body slammed into the sticky floorboards so hard it jarred every bone in her body.

Kyra gulped in air and scootched across the floor until she found a small clearing where she could stand. Immediately, an elbow caught her in the gut.

She spotted Ned and Hal a few feet in front of her, about three tables away from Arlo, then watched in horror as the concierge’s assistant shrank down to a hairy rodent and darted away through the crowd.

“I’ll get him!” Hal shouted, running off in the same direction.

The man who’d been sitting on the other side of Arlo grew into a huge troll.

Ned sighed. “Of course I get stuck with the giant one.” He moved forward, bashing brawlers out of the way with his baton in one hand, a potion-filled balloon in the other.

Kyra glanced at Arlo. He wasn’t even paying attention
to her.

He wasn’t worried about her at all.

He was enjoying this. The chaos, the fighting, the blood—he was drinking it in. Every now and then he’d clap his hands when a particularly good hit connected.

Kyra stepped close and shouted above the roar of the brawl, “Arlo Abbaduto! Under the name of the King, you are—”

“—enjoying this immensely.” Arlo finally turned his attention to her. “It’s quite a show you’ve put on here.”

“You aren’t going to weasel out of this one, Arlo. We’ve got you.”

“You think you can take me,
Master Potioner
?”

She was out of needles and had already thrown the knife she kept tucked in her waistband at the small of her back.

“Or have you come to join me?” Arlo stood up from his table. “We both know you’ve turned criminal. That’s why you came to me when you needed help finding the princess.”

Kyra couldn’t help herself. “I came to you because I was desperate. Why did you send me to Ellie the hermit?”

“He made a terrible lackey.” Arlo’s smile revealed his large mossy teeth. “I thought in your rage at not finding the princess, your little murderer’s heart would see fit to take care of him for me.”

“I am
not
a murderer.”

Arlo began laughing again. “Not a murderer, eh? You tried to kill the princess, you almost killed me once upon a time—there
is
murder in you. You’re just like me.”

“She wasn’t the real princess!” Kyra ducked a mug that smashed on the wall behind her.

“You didn’t know that. You were prepared to kill her anyway.”

“You’re going to prison, Arlo.” Kyra resorted to her weapon of last defense: she swung out a fist and landed a solid blow to his jaw.

It hurt her hand.

Arlo swatted her to the floor.

“And arresting me wouldn’t be murder?” He leered down at her. “Do you think they’re going to slap me on the hands for this and send me on my way? You want me to hang.”

Kyra shoved hard on his knee with the ball of her foot and stood as he stumbled. “It would be justice.”

“It would be what’s in your little murderer’s heart.” He swatted at her again, but this time she dropped and rolled, taking some of the force out of the blow. Still, it hurt. Fighting him was like fighting a giant boulder with arms.