The Potion Diaries (5 page)

My grandad bows his head. ‘Yes, my lady.’

‘She is beautiful. So tall! That doesn’t come from your side of the family then.’ Her mouth is buried so deep in wrinkles it takes a moment to see that she is smiling. She leans in to my grandad. ‘I’m glad you’re here,’ she says. ‘The Kemis never fail us.’

I stand stock-still, worried my grandad is going to explode. But instead he says simply, ‘Your Majesty,’ and bows stiffly. The Queen Mother tilts her head towards me to say goodbye, and walks through the wall out of the room.

My arm tingles from where she touched me.

Movement from the Princess draws my attention back again. I can’t seem to look away for too long – her presence is magnetic, compelling. Then, almost so subtly I miss it, her eyes flicker towards the mirror. She stares at herself for a moment before dropping her eyes again. She brings her hands up to her lips, then slides them gently to her throat, all the while staring demurely at her lap. Then she flicks her eyes up again.

She smiles.

She’s flirting with the mirror, and in that instant, I know the truth.

‘She’s in love with herself,’ I say in a voice barely louder than a whisper, and then I clasp my hands over my mouth.

CHAPTER SEVEN

Samantha

‘
W
HAT?’ HISSES ZOL.

Suddenly everyone is craning for a better look. It’s clear that my theory is correct, even as I get squashed out to the edge of the circle. The Princess has risen and is standing by the mirror now, smiling and chatting to her reflection. She doesn’t look ill at all. In fact she looks . . . radiant.

Renel clears his throat, trying to take back some control of the crowd. ‘Yes, yes, well done, Kemi.’ He glares at me. ‘Princess Evelyn was poisoned by a love potion we believe she made by her own hand.’

Unbelievable. Love potions are dangerous – not to mention, illegal – and the original recipe was wiped from existence by Royal decree well over a century ago. Anyone who even writes out a new recipe in their private journals draws the attention of the Novaen secret service. Arjun thinks the fact that the Royal family has that power is scary and oppressive, but at least it keeps people safe – except for, I suppose, the Princess. I’m impressed. I didn’t think it was possible for Royals to mix their own potions. Their Talent is so strong, who knows what effect it would have on the ingredients.

‘Attention. Attention!’ Renel claps his hands. When no one turns to look at him, he touches his staff to the wall, and the window to the Princess goes dark.

‘She doesn’t look like she’s in mortal danger,’ says someone I don’t recognise.

‘Then you don’t understand anything about the Royal family and aren’t fit for this Hunt,’ snaps the King. ‘We dedicate our lives to keeping the flow of magic in check. If Evelyn’s mind is compromised in any way . . .’

‘She could bring the entire city of Kingstown to its knees,’ says my grandad. ‘Once again endangering us all,’ he mutters under his breath, so that only I can hear.

The King doesn’t say anything, but his silence speaks volumes.

Renel steps up again. ‘Now you understand the gravity of the situation. We have enough doctors here to keep the Princess in a stable condition. But that could change. How quickly we can save her is down to you.

‘Now, there hasn’t been a Wilde Hunt in over sixty-five years, so I must make you aware there are several rules that must not be broken. Not only will the Royal family enforce the rules, but the Hunt demands it.

‘One: Only Participants called by Auden’s Horn are eligible to compete in the Wilde Hunt. The first Participant or his apprentice to submit a potion that turns the Horn gold will be declared the winner. Submit the wrong formula, and the Horn will remain black.

‘Two: You are the chosen Participants, but you still have a choice. You have twenty-four hours following the call of the Horn to enter your name. Once you do, you are bound to the Hunt. In return, you will be issued with Royal-approved Wilds passes, giving you access to anywhere you need to hunt for ingredients.

‘Three: In addition to the Participant and his apprentice, one Finder may be chosen per team.

‘And finally: since a love potion antidote is a mirror cure, the winning potion must be as close to the Princess’s formula as possible. That means that all ingredients used in this Wilde Hunt potion must be natural.’

‘Your Highness, with all due respect, that is preposterous!’ Zol exclaims. ‘We could have a synthetic potion prepared in days . . . Hunting for the ingredients could take weeks.’

The King sighs. ‘Zol, this is my daughter’s life at stake. We cannot take any chances.’

‘Auden’s Horn called you because you are a master alchemist, in addition to your synth mixing, isn’t that correct, Zol?’ says Renel.

‘Well, of course, but . . .’ Zol splutters.

‘Then you will know how key it is that we follow these rules exactly.’

‘How are you so sure that no synths were used in the manufacture of the Princess’s potion?’ Zol asks. ‘With the exception of a few of these old-timers . . .’ he looks pointedly at my grandfather and me, ‘almost no one operates completely synth-free any more. This is the twenty-first century after all!’

Renel reaches into his suit pocket and pulls out a slim journal, its pages edged in gold. ‘This is the only remaining evidence of the Princess’s mix. She began a record of her formula, although she only got as far as to write down a single ingredient. But one thing she did specify is that her potion was made with one hundred per cent natural ingredients. It appears she feared that using synthetics would be too easy to trace. So I will reiterate: the potion needs to be completely natural.’

Zol scoffs, but doesn’t protest again.

Renel continues. ‘Those who choose to participate will be given the name of the ingredient the Princess wrote down as a head start. After that, you are on your own. The prize for the correct potion is one million crowns and access to a private stream of Novaen Royal magic for twenty-four hours.’ His nose wrinkles as he mentions the prize, as if it should be of no consequence when it comes to saving the Princess. It’s of big consequence to everyone else, though. ‘Since love potions are illegal, you will also consent to having the ingredients and any record of the formula wiped from memory.’

Despite the dangers, there is an excited buzz in the room. A Wilde Hunt. A chance to create an illegal potion for the Royal family. A
natural
potion. This is freaking awesome.

‘Zol Aster, do you still want to be first to join?’ asks the King, one eyebrow raised.

Zol stands up straighter, adjusting his tie. ‘Of course, your Highness. Synth or natural, ZoroAster Corp are the best potion-makers in Nova.’ Now it’s my grandad’s turn to scoff, though Zol continues as if he doesn’t hear. ‘We would be honoured to pledge our service to saving the Princess.’ Zol and Zain approach the Horn, in its curious floating gold light. Once, they might have had to write their names on a piece of paper to enter the Hunt, but not any more. Now, there’s an electronic pad sitting in front of the Horn. Zol places his forefinger on the pad and it scans his fingerprint, then Zain does the same. Something inside the Horn fizzles and smokes.

They are entered in the Hunt.

But before Zain has lifted his finger from the pad, the Horn shakes then blasts out the resounding trumpet sound I heard on the Royal Lane. Instinctively, we all turn towards the Summons. Then someone else steps through the screen – without needing to be pulled through. A woman, dressed in a long, hooded robe the colour of swirling mercury, of molten silver. The edges are ragged and torn – so old-fashioned in style she looks like she’s walked out of the pages of a historical novel. With her comes a smell – sharp and metallic, like the copper taint of a bad penny.

Guards melt out of the shadows and what feels like a hundred men in suits surround the woman, wands drawn.

When she lowers the hood and shows her face, I’m instantly grateful for all those guards.

‘No . . .’ The King stands up so fast, he almost topples his throne. ‘There must be some mistake! Renel, check the Horn’s call.’

The woman grins, all perfect teeth and pale pink lips. ‘It’s nice to see you too, brother.’ She would be beautiful if she wasn’t so terrifying. Her hair is as grey as her cloak and her veins, visible through her translucent skin, are black as night. I know what that means. It happens to alchemists who meddle with ingredients that stain the soul as well as a person’s hair, eyes and skin. I shiver with disgust. No one uses dark potions any more in Nova. The rumours say there are still some on the continent, deep in the forests of Gergon, who do. This is proof of it.

‘I’m sorry it took me so long to get here,’ she continues. ‘I suppose it was hard for the Horn to track me down. It’s quite rude of my own family to take away my passport and block me from transporting into my home country, isn’t it? But Auden’s Horn doesn’t care about our arbitrary laws, borders and exiles. It called me as a Participant, and there’s nothing you can do about that.’

The King shakes with rage, his face a bright shade of red. ‘But you’re no alchemist!’

‘How would you know what I am, Ander? Oh, don’t you worry. I’ve always been fond of my niece, which is more than I can say for you. Now, what’s wrong with her?’ She snaps her fingers at the guards. ‘Move out of my way. I need to see the Princess.’

‘Don’t you dare,’ the King shouts.

‘You can’t stop me. I’ve been called.’

‘Of course I can, I’m the King!’ he splutters.

‘Always trying to bend the rules, when it suits you. I think you’ll find the Horn has made its choice. As a
master
alchemist, born of Nova, I am more than qualified to be in the Hunt,’ she says, striding towards the window. ‘If I choose to.’ The guards fire blasts of magic at her, but the spells fizzle out before they reach her. She places her finger on the glass, her long curved nails scraping against the window. The glass turns clear.

The room is silent, holding its breath as the woman observes the Princess. ‘A love potion. How quaint a thing to put her life – and the country itself – in mortal danger. Rather reckless that you would allow this to happen under your roof, King Ander. All the better for me, though.’ She walks over to the Horn, placing her finger on the pad.

The Horn sparks once more.

She turns to the crowd, and my skin crawls as her ice-blue eyes glance over me. Thankfully, they don’t linger long as she regards each one of us in turn. ‘I will be the one to save my niece. I suggest you all bow out gracefully now, while you can.’ With two bounding leaps, she jumps into the Summons, disappearing back to wherever she came from.

The King’s voice breaks the shell-shocked silence. ‘What are you waiting for, get after her!’ he bellows to his guards. They leap through the Summons, attempting to follow her trail. ‘As for the rest of you, I will double the Hunt’s prize. TWO million crowns and forty-eight hours of power, to whoever finds the cure before that woman.’

‘Who was that?’ I whisper to my grandad, when I’ve finally stopped shaking.

‘Emilia Thoth,’ he says, his voice grave. ‘The King’s exiled sister. Come on, Sam. Let’s go home.’

‘We’re not joining the Hunt?’ I ask.

But I already know the answer to that.