The Potion Diaries (30 page)

The King turned on Zain. ‘How close is your father to finishing the potion?’

‘I . . . I don’t know, your Highness.’

‘Well, work faster!’

Ah, so that was their plan. They wanted to hurt her by taking away the one person she had only ever truly loved.

Renel spoke next, his tone tentative. ‘Sire, the physicians are saying we might only have a few days before she goes past the point of no return. The government is asking us to take her to an underground bunker they’ve prepared. If the magic floods her system completely . . .’

‘We can’t think about that. But she can’t be moved far from the Horn. When the right potion is found, we will need to administer it immediately.’

She wondered if the sedative had reached her heart then, because it appeared to stop for a moment. Was her love for Lyn really causing so much harm? Her whole life, her parents had encouraged her to marry. Now that she had chosen, they wanted to punish her for it. It was just as her aunt had said.

‘As you say, sir. They might start evacuating some of the city. You will be putting lives in danger.’

‘That is what this blasted Wilde Hunt is for! Someone will find a cure.’

‘And if it’s your sister?’

‘If Emilia wins – then magic save us all.’

Her aunt was in on this? Emilia was the only person on the planet who knew what it was like to have their life ruined by the Royal family of Nova. And now she was working to keep Eve from Lyn? It didn’t make sense.

‘You should have got rid of that woman when you had the chance!’ said the Queen.

Of course you’d want that, you cold and vicious woman. All you care about is your position in life. I didn’t even know I had an aunt. Not until her letters came. How she got them in the Palace, I still don’t know. But I relished every word. She understood the pressures I was under.

No one else even tried to understand.

‘We can’t destroy a Novaen heir.’

‘Then you should have locked her up in a dungeon from which she could never escape instead of letting her gallivant off—’

Her aunt had inspired her. Inspired her to take her future into her own hands.

‘This isn’t the middle ages, Richeline! We can’t put her in a dungeon any more. We have better mixers than her and someone will cure Evelyn. Watch her,’ her father said to Renel, as if she was a rabid dog rather than his beloved daughter. He swept out of the room.

She needed to throw them off, somehow. She couldn’t let them take Lyn away.

‘Love,’ she said, forcing the word up and out past her paralysis.

‘What?’ Zain swooped down, his ear close to her lips. ‘What did you say, Evelyn?’ Her eyes were still closed, but she knew he had heard her. She cursed him for being so slow.

‘Be in love and . . .’ she said. Then her body gave up fighting and let the sedative take her away into a deep and powerless sleep.

CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX

Samantha

M
Y DREAMS ON THE FLIGHT HOME ARE dark and strange. Aphroditas dances in front of my eyes, her body twisting and spinning. Wrapped around her wrists are dark green bracelets of luvy that beckon me to join in, winding up Aphroditas’s arms. Yet when I look up at her again, she’s the mercrone, all mottled skin and rotting teeth. In the dream I cry out, but it’s the mournful cry of the abominable. A bright white light interrupts us, so pure I have the urge to bow in its presence. I’m on my hands and knees, praying to the light. Something soft and gentle caresses my face. I lift up my head and it’s snowing petals of pink jasmine.

Kirsty shakes me awake. ‘Hey, earth to Samantha.’ I blink back sleep from my eyes and find my legs are cramped up against the seat in front of me. Kirsty didn’t want to spring for better seats – the luvy money won’t last for ever and we have more ingredients to find – but then she isn’t as tall as me. ‘You’re kicking the people in front.’

‘Sorry, weird dreams,’ I say, hoping to stay awake till we get home.

We land back in Kingstown and I’m accosted by my mum, who jumps past crowds and security to get through to me, and holds me tight.

My dad stands a little bit off to the side, holding Molly’s hand. Mum hug-walks me over to them, and then lets me go just a fraction to let them in too. ‘I . . . am . . . so . . . glad . . . to . . . see . . . you,’ says Mum, between kisses on the forehead. I envisage my face, covered in her bright pink lipstick. I’d like to tattoo it there, that symbol of family love.

They’ve hired a car to take me home, and I’ve never been so glad to pull up on Kemi Street and see the front of our store. A few things have changed, though. The sign is new. It’s been done in the old style, with our family coat of arms carved into a beautiful piece of dark wood, but it glints with new paint. There’s something different about the glass in the window too. The square panes appear artfully frosted rather than caked with a potent mixture of dirt, grime and dust.

‘We spent some of the luvy money on doing up the store front,’ Dad says, taking in my expression and reading it perfectly. ‘There were so many media here, journalists, photographers, cameras – they all want a piece of you.’

Dad beams with happiness. I know I should too, but instead I feel the mounting pressure. They’ve had a taste of the life we could live, and they like it. This is what I wanted, but now it’s up to me to make it happen.

I put on a smile, even if it doesn’t reach my eyes. It’s better than nothing.

Once I’m inside the kitchen, it’s nice and familiar. Nothing has changed here. ‘I’m going to find Grandad,’ I say. All the questions that have been sitting in the back of my mind bubble up to the front. I push through the kitchen to the lab, where he’s at his desk, just like always.

‘Well, you’ve had quite the adventure, young lady.’

‘What happened in the last Wilde Hunt?’ I try to keep my voice calm, but my heart is pounding in my ears. Grandad stops working, placing both his palms on the table. He removes his half-moon glasses and rubs his eyes.

‘I’ve told you this story. The Royals broke the rules and let a synth win, and your great-grandmother lost her livelihood because of it.’

‘You never told me she went to Mount Hallah.’

‘I didn’t know.’

‘How could you not know? You were her apprentice!’

He levels me with a stare. ‘Masters don’t share all their secrets with their apprentices.’

‘Then did she tell you she created the first synth?’

Grandad slams his hands on the table, and I flinch. ‘Lies! Who told you that?’ He shakes with fierce rage, but it dissipates almost as quickly as it rose up. He slumps in his chair, his fingers tracing one of the knots in the wooden table. ‘She wouldn’t let me come with her on the final leg of the Hunt. The last ingredient was mystifying us all – eye of a centaur – and we couldn’t find it anywhere. Can you imagine asking a centaur for its eye? They protect the bodies of their dead more fiercely than any creature on this earth. No, there was no procuring that ingredient.

‘We had an argument. She sent me home from the Hunt. I knew she was up to something, creating something . . . but without her diary, I will never know what it was. And then the next thing I knew, that fool Zoro Aster had won the Hunt and Cleo had lost her potions diary. She was never the same after that. Within the year, she died. Her diary was never found. In one fell swoop, I lost everything.’

I reach out and put my hand over his. ‘You were sixteen. There wasn’t anything you could have done.’

‘There is so much I could have done. I shouldn’t have left. But that is all in the past now.’ He rubs his long beard. ‘There is something you can do,’ he says. ‘Trust your instincts.’

Grandad turns back to his desk and resumes scribbling in his journal. It’s a dismissal, but a kind one. He’s shared more with me in the past ten minutes than he has in my entire life.

That’s when it hits me. Maybe it’s not my instincts I need to trust. Maybe it’s my dreams. I spin around abruptly, bumping into the table and sending the glass jars tinkling on the surface. Luckily nothing breaks.

Dad pops his head into the lab. ‘Everything okay in here?’

I rush towards the kitchen. ‘Is Kirsty back yet?’

‘She just arrived.’

‘Good, because I think I know what the next ingredient is.’

I take a deep breath before I begin. If I’m right, the next ingredient requires highly specialised skill to Find. Plus, it’s an ingredient that’s well-protected to the point of being almost illegal – you need to jump through innumerable hoops and get pages of government permissions to acquire it through the normal channels. I wonder how Princess Evelyn did it without alerting anyone. Did she get it by herself? Did she pay some extortionate sum for it? Maybe she has one in the Palace backyard, and we don’t even know it. Somehow, I doubt it.

I follow Dad into the kitchen, where Mum, Molly and Kirsty are waiting for me, all looking at me with expectation in their eyes.

‘Unicorn tail.’

There’s a group intake of breath.

‘Whoa,’ Molly says, her eyes opening wide. ‘I’ve always wanted to see a unicorn.’ Molly’s favourite toy is a stuffed unicorn toy with a sparkly horn that she received on her sixth birthday. They’re by far her favourite creature.

Kirsty drops her head in her hands. ‘Unicorn! That’s a problem for us.’ Unicorns can only be approached by virgins. Let’s just say that puts Kirsty at a disadvantage.

‘Why? I can get it,’ I say.

‘Can you?’ Kirsty raises an eyebrow.

‘What?’ I squeak. I can’t believe Kirsty’s just asked that in front of my parents.

‘I saw Zain leaving your room last night.’

‘No! We didn’t . . .’ The blood rushes to my face.

She holds up her hand. ‘Don’t freak out. That’s not what I’m asking. The whole unicorns only appearing to virgins thing is a common misconception,’ she says.

‘But nothing . . . I can’t believe you think that . . . I am still . . .’ My face gets warmer and warmer, and I turn an unhealthy shade of beetroot.

Kirsty laughs. ‘Do you need me to get you some water?’

I stick my tongue out and relax when I realise no one is actually judging me. ‘What do you mean then? Why can’t I get it? I thought that’s why most of the specialised Finders for unicorns come from that religious order that follow vows of complete chastity.’

‘It’s not about
virginity
in the physical sense. The ancient word for
love
can actually be translated in many ways, only one of which implies the physical. It’s a juicier myth that way, isn’t it?’ Kirsty wiggles her eyebrows. ‘But turns out, unicorns are even pickier than that. So I have to ask, Sam . . . have you ever fallen in love?’

‘No!’ But then my heart spikes. Is that true any more? I hesitate. ‘At least . . . I don’t know. I’m not sure.’

‘That’s not going to fool the unicorns.’

‘Oh, Sam – I didn’t know! Do you have a boyfriend?’ my mum asks.

I bite my lip. ‘Well, over the past few weeks, Zain and I have got a lot closer. Then last night we talked . . .’

Now my dad gets angry. He narrows his eyes. ‘He knew.’

My face drains of colour at Dad’s statement. Mum turns to him, worry in her voice. ‘John . . .’

‘Well of course he did! That snake, he must have planned it. He makes Sam believe she’s in love just before she has to meet a unicorn? You don’t find that a bit suspicious?’

‘He didn’t “make” me anything – I suppose you think he planned the whole night on the mountain and the abominable too?’ I snap. ‘Anyway, it’s none of your business.’ Tears burn my eyes. ‘Zain cares about me. We care about each other. He wanted to work
with
us on finding the cure, not against us.’ I face my dad, who thankfully has the decency to look ashamed by his outburst. I can see him reach out, wanting to apologise, to take back what he said, but I’m far too angry to let him. ‘We’ll find a way; we’ll pay someone . . .’

Kirsty begins, ‘I’ll call the Sisters and get a quote—’ but then another voice cuts in. ‘I’ll do it,’ Molly says. ‘I’ll go to get the unicorn.’

‘No,’ me and my parents say in unison.

Now it’s Molly’s turn to be hurt. She stands up, the tips of her dark brown braids quivering. ‘You never let me help! I’m strong too, and I’ve never been in love. I can do this.’