The Potion Diaries
Read The Potion Diaries Online
Authors: Amy Alward
THE
POTION
DIARIES
First published in Great Britain in 2015 by Simon and Schuster UK Ltd
A CBS COMPANY
Copyright © 2015 Amy Alward Ltd
This book is copyright under the Berne Convention.
No reproduction without permission.
All rights reserved.
The right of Amy Alward to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted by her in accordance with sections 77 and 78 of the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act, 1988.
Simon & Schuster UK Ltd
1st Floor, 222 Gray’s Inn Road
London WC1X 8HB
Simon & Schuster Australia, Sydney
Simon & Schuster India, New Delhi
A CIP catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library.
PB ISBN: 978-1-47114-356-4
EBook ISBN: 978-1-47114-357-1
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual people living or dead, events or locales is entirely coincidental.
Printed and bound by CPI Group (UK) Ltd, Croydon, CR0 4YY
Simon & Schuster UK Ltd are committed to sourcing paper that is made from wood grown in sustainable forests and supports the Forest Stewardship Council, the leading international forest certification organisation.
Our books displaying the FSC logo are printed on FSC certified paper.
To Juliet, whose magical talent
is to make things happen
CONTENTS
CHAPTER ONE
Princess Evelyn
A
TINY BEAD OF BLOOD BLOOMED WHERE the knifepoint pressed against the tip of her finger. She held it over the rim of a glass vial and watched as the droplet fell, turning the liquid in the bottom from pink to a dark, inky blue.
Strange.
She’d always expected a love potion to be red, not blue.
CHAPTER TWO
Samantha
T
HE DIRT CAKED ONTO THE CURVED glass surface of the jar is so thick, not even a hint of a label is visible. I give it a quick scrub with the edge of my sleeve before remembering Mum’s stern warning not to keep ruining my shop clothes. Instead, I grab the rag I had shoved into my jeans pocket that morning. Another vigorous rub reveals my grandfather’s spindly handwriting, neat and precise except for where the ink has bled into cracks like fingers reaching out in the linen parchment.
Berd du Merlyn
‘No way.’ The words slip out as a sudden swell of excitement wiggles its way up my spine. I have to put the jar back down onto the shelf and take a few deep breaths to calm myself before I can continue.
‘What have you found?’ My best friend Anita looks over at me from her perch a few shelves over.
The two of us are balancing on ladder rungs three storeys and thirty-six shelves high. We have a deal. Anita helps me with my huge, mind-numbing task of doing an inventory on my family store’s thousands of ingredients and mixes, potions, plants and wotsits. In return, I agree to go with her to watch the Princess’s eighteenth birthday concert on one of the big screens by the castle, even though hearing about her life makes me cringe. I’ve secretly packed a book in my bag, just in case.
I grin widely and Anita drags her ladder towards me. The tracks are old and clogged with dust, and even with the drops of oil I use to lubricate the wheels they still won’t run smoothly.
I turn the jar in her direction. She lets out a low whistle. ‘Do you think it’s real?’
‘Who knows,’ I say. My thumping heart betrays me. Every time I search these shelves, I feel like I’m digging deeper and deeper into a lost treasure trove, and one day I’m going to find something great. This could be it. ‘There’s a plant I’ve read about in
Nature & Potion
that’s known as Wizard’s Beard. This could just be an old name for it.’ Uses for Wizard’s Beard spring into my mind before I can stop them: A
key ingredient in potions dealing with shock – brew for five minutes in hot (but not boiling) water to help ease the sharing of bad news.
It’s a relatively common ingredient, and wouldn’t be that exciting a find.
If, however, this turns out to be real Merlin’s Beard – from the man himself . . . well, I suddenly know how we’re going to pay for the leak in the roof I found yesterday (the hard way, with a wet head) which is now temporarily taped over with duct tape.
I web my fingers over the top of the lid and twist with all my might. There’s a brief tug of resistance and then the lid jumps off the jar, along with a great puff of dust which explodes right in my face.
A hacking cough and frantic arm-waving disperse the dust, but my heart sinks.
Empty.
Anita pats me on the arm. ‘Something else to add to Kirsty’s list?’
‘Looks like.’ I sigh, then take a pen out from behind my ear and jot down ‘Wizard’s Beard’ on my list of missing things to ask Kirsty, our Finder, to collect for us. And it looks like I’m going to have to find another way to fix that leak.
Sometimes, if I’m feeling romantic, I think about all the generations of Kemis that have stood on these rungs, how many great alchemists have studied these shelves.
But then reality hits: the store is falling apart, our supplies are diminishing and we have no business coming in to change it.
It wasn’t always this way. Kemi’s Potion Shop was once one of the most prominent apothecaries in Kingstown. But no one needs apothecaries any more. Not when they have the megapharmacies downtown selling synthetic versions of traditional potions for half the price. Now, we’re leftovers from a previous time. Relics.
Anita’s dad also owns a potion store, specialising in mixing techniques from Bharat. When his apprentice left to retrain as an engineer, Mr Patel decided not to hire another – even though Anita offered to give up her place at university to take over. When he retires in a couple of years, he’s going to close his shop for good. Another apothecary bites the dust, while Kemi’s Potion Shop clings on for dear life.