by Alicia Fabel
Then she reined it all in. “Now, I’m also part centaur and part alchemist, I just haven’t woken up those particular magics yet. I’ll need someone to help me do that.”
“Will a half-breed work?” asked a woman.
“Uh, yeah. As long as they can control their magic.”
“I’m a centaur,” she replied.
Vera frowned at her two legs.
“That’s my tell. When my mom had a baby with two legs, it was hard to explain to her husband. A human couple adopted me.”
“I thought the legs were part of centaurs’ magic.”
“That’s just biology. Their magic is their strength and stamina.”
“Can you show me how to use it?”
The woman walked up to her and placed a hand on Vera’s lower back. Inside Vera’s void, her centaur burst free. The woman showed her how to hold back the magic that wanted freedom to run. It paced in tight lines, not quite happy. The woman cooed, and it accepted the restraints more willingly. Vera’s heart fluttered like a hummingbird’s wing and her head buzzed.
“You’ll have to use this magic, or it will make you antsy.”
“Antsy magic. That sounds wonderful.”
“I used to have all kinds of accidents—breaking things, not being able to listen to directions. And then I learned that I’m calmer and focus better when I let it free as often as I can.”
“Sounds like I need to start running again,” Vera said.
“Your magic will like that.”
“Now what about an alchemist?” Vera asked.
“That will be harder to come by,” said Red.
The centaur guard opened the door and scanned the room until his eyes landed on Vera. The servants went back to work seamlessly.
“Let’s go,” he said.
“Impatient much?” But Vera collected the bin of food from Red. She didn’t want to bring these people unwanted attention.
“We serve breakfast to the alchemists between eight and ten,” Red informed her. “There are usually a handful who have not had a chance to sleep off their evening revelry.”
Vera understood the message. An alchemist, who was not completely in charge of their faculties, might be the easiest to approach. “I’ll see you all for breakfast. Thank you for the meal.”
Vera carried her package past the centaur. He only had to correct her path once on the way back to the dungeon.
8
Kale had been pacing circles around the cell ever since Vera announced her plans to befriend a plastered alchemist so she could save a siphon. “I want to go with you.”
“But you can’t.”
“Do you think helping the king’s illegitimate daughter is the impossible task you’re supposed to complete?” he asked.
“I don’t know,” she said. “Does it matter?”
“Honestly, yes. If this isn’t going to punch our ticket home, then there’s no reason for you to put yourself at risk.”
“Saving a young girl’s life is a pretty big reason,” Vera argued.
“You don’t even know her.”
“You didn’t know me when you decided to spare me either.” She blew him a kiss. “And see how that’s turned out?”
“With me in a dungeon losing my mind.”
Vera scowled. “And being a crank.”
He let out an indecipherable growl and smacked the wall in frustration.
Vera planted herself in his path. “Whoa, calm down, Scotchie. You were shot yesterday.”
“I heal unnaturally fast,” he replied—pun intended.
Vera was not amused. “Good to know.”
Blast me. I’m being a jerk. He ran a hand through his hair and turned to give her a speculative look. “Why is that good to know? So you can continue stabbing me at will?”
“I like to keep my options open,” she teased back, shoulders relaxing.
That’s better. Keep it together. She’ll be fine. “Hurry back.”
“Deal.” She squeezed his hand. “Don’t pick a fight with the guards if you start freaking out.”
“Don’t get kidnapped by an ogre or stuffed into a cauldron,” he tossed back.
“No promises.” She winked. “I kinda like ogres.”
Kale growled again. Vera ran out the door with a grin before he could catch her. He leaned his forehead against the damp slab of wood after the guards closed it behind her. It would be so easy to rip the thing away and make a path of blood through this place until he got her home. The image of Vera’s disappointed face was all that stopped him. Not even Talia had held so much power over him. If anything happened to that insane woman, as she charged off to save the day, he was sure he’d destroy the world himself.
Vera made it to the kitchen without taking any wrong turns. Her assigned shadow took up watch outside the door. She wiggled her fingers in his direction as she slipped into the kitchen and a muscle jumped in his jaw. It never got old. Everyone paused what they were doing when they saw her.
“Keep working, before someone wonders what’s happening in the kitchen,” warned Red, and they all went back to work. She handed Vera a gold pitcher of pink juice, wet with condensation. “Why don’t you go see if anyone needs a refill?”
Vera’s nerves skittered. “You’re sure it’s okay?”
“I think you’ll be perfectly fine.” Red shrugged with an amused smile. “But with you, who knows. We’ll simply have to see.”
Vera didn’t immediately follow after the other servants scurrying in and out the door with pitchers and platters.
“You want to find an alchemist, right?” asked Red.
“Yeah.”
“Then don’t worry so much. They’ll assume you’re a servant and won’t look at you twice.” She shoved Vera toward the door to the dining hall. “I’ll have your breakfast ready for you when you get back.”
Vera fidgeted as she walked into the dining hall. It was half-full of sleepy alchemists. She wasn’t sure what she expected—scowls, someone screaming at the sight of her, or someone throwing something at her. But none of that happened. Nothing happened. Well, not nothing exactly. One groggy man shoved an empty goblet in her face, grumbling about the slow service and promising he’d file a complaint if she didn’t hurry up. She topped off his glass without him looking at her once. Then she hurried to mimic the other servants. She filled goblet after goblet, hoping to find an approachable alchemist. So far, everyone had sneered or snapped at her until she moved onto the next grumpy alchemist. How is this a good plan? These people are horrible in the morning.
Vera carefully avoided the head table, which was filled with men and women from the balconies the day before. At one point, she went so far as to turn her back on a young man sitting beside Beard-o. The young man met her gaze for a split second and held up his goblet for a refill. Eeek. Her heart kicked up, and she started working her way in the opposite direction. For the first time, she missed being able to hide behind a headscarf.
To appear busy, she poured juice into an empty cup near a man’s elbow. He sat up straighter and gave her a huge smile that stopped her in her tracks.
“Thanks for that,” he said.
“You’re welcome.”
“You’re new,” he guessed.
“How can you tell?”
“Most servants don’t get around to refilling the cups of us peons in the back corner.”
“Well, I’m not most servants,” she replied.
“I can see that.”
A hand grabbed Vera from behind and spun her around. It was the young man from the head table, who she’d ignored. Based on his pinched lips, he knew she’d done it intentionally too.
“You would ignore me?” he demanded.
“I’m sorry,” she mumbled. “I didn’t see you.”
He didn’t look familiar, but she figured he would recognize her any second. Vera attempted to shield her face, while filling the cup hanging from his fingers. Only he must not have expected that. As soon as the juice sloshed into
his cup, it slipped from his unprepared fingers and crashed onto his foot. He cursed, kicking juice off his toes and showering everyone nearby. The commotion successfully attracted the attention Vera wanted to avoid.
Instead of telling the man to step off, as she desperately wanted, Vera gushed, “I’m so sorry. Let me get something to clean that up.”
She turned on her toes to race for the kitchen. Only, he caught her by the back of her shirt, like a kitten by its scruff. Then he goose-stepped her through the nearest doors and into the hallway.
“You will not run away and leave me to clean that up,” he was saying.
“Dude, I wasn’t going to.” Vera smacked his hand away.
“No?” he challenged. “Then why were you going in the opposite direction of the cleaning supply room?’
“I was going to get some rags or something from the kitchen.”
“So you’re daft too?” he asked.
And with that, Vera’s patience snapped. “You know what? You are an asshat.”
“Who are you?” he demanded.
“Who are you?” she retorted.
“Someone you do not want to anger.”
“Ditto,” Vera replied. “Now, I’ll clean up the stupid mess you made, but I’m not going anywhere with you.”
The man narrowed his eyes before reaching around her to throw open a door to a massive linen closet filled with baskets of rags and bottles of potions. When Vera didn’t move, he grabbed a fist full of rags and thrust them into her hands.
Vera was stunned. “You’re taking this cleaning thing a little seriously, aren’t you?”
“I’m going to assume you are new around here. If you want to stay, you’ll learn quickly that cleanliness is a serious matter.” He searched through the various bottles and then handed her one filled with something that looked like lemonade. “This one will get off all the juice residue. Don’t miss any. If you run out of solution, make sure you let someone know so they can refill it.”
Vera stared. “Okay, I’ve known some neat freaks in my time, but it’s just a little spilled juice.”
The man’s face darkened. “Just get it cleaned up before he notices.”
“Who?”
“The king.” He studied her. “You truly are clueless, aren’t you?” He inspected his spattered clothes. “I need to change before I’m late for morning classes.”
“What sort of classes do they have here?”
He looked at her as if she’d just crawled out from under a rock. “What did you say your name was?”
“I didn’t.” And I don’t plan to.
He seemed to read that last part in her expression. “Maybe you aren’t completely stupid, after all. Be more careful, though.” And then he stalked away.
Vera uncorked the top and took a whiff. It was astringent and minty. She headed back into the dining room only to find that the nice guy was gone. Fantastic. She mopped up the juice, poured the solution over the sticky stones, and wiped until they were clean. Everyone who’d sat nearby had vacated the area. The king’s glower followed her progress as she wiped down table legs and chairs. So much for being inconspicuous. When she finished, she grabbed her empty pitcher from the table—someone had helped themselves to the last of it. Just then, the clocks along the wall struck nine. Everyone remaining rushed out of the room. I guess that means breakfast is over. And I wasted all my time cleaning up after Dingdong-Dip.
Back in the kitchen, Red said, “Well, that went well.”
“I don’t think you were watching the same tragedy I was.” Vera dropped onto a stool.
“It wasn’t so bad,” she insisted kindly.
“I didn’t get to talk to anyone.” The staff bustled around them, cleaning and preparing for the next meal.
“That’s not true,” argued Red.
“Let me rephrase,” Vera said. “I didn’t talk to anyone useful.”
“I believe the prince could be quite useful.”
“That was the prince?” Of course it was.
“I think you made quite an impression.”
Vera groaned and laid her head on the table. “Oh, yeah. I made an impression all right.”
Red chuckled and grabbed a bowl of peas. She sat across Vera, shelling them. There were a ton. Vera had no idea how she’d shell enough for all those people.
“Why was he so worried about some spilled juice?” Vera asked her.
“Any residue left on surfaces, or even dust in the air, can make its way into a potion. If that happens, a solution meant to clean up juice, for instance, could melt away your skin instead.”
Vera looked down at her hands. She was glad the cleaning potion hadn’t gotten dust in it while it was being brewed.
“The prince was well known for making things explode as a young boy,” continued Red. “It caused some trouble for him with his father. I can understand why he’d be diligent.”
The way Red said “trouble” made Vera think about a boy in one of her foster homes. The mother could not stand his clumsiness for some reason. She’d punished him with extra chores while berating him the whole time. Eventually, he wasn’t allowed out of his room for anything but school and meals. Whenever Vera had tried to help, he’d pushed her away, saying he didn’t want her to catch his trouble. If the prince had gone through anything like that, Vera felt bad for him. She still thought he was a butthead, though.
“Can I ask you something?” Vera asked.
Red nodded.
“Do you know how to find an oracle?”
“I’ve never tried to find one before,” Red answered. “But I’ve heard that if you do find one, it’s not a good thing.”
“Why not?”
“My mother told me that oracles are merciless when it comes to protecting the futures they see, as much as they are about protecting their identities.”
“Hypothetically, if someone were willing to risk an oracle’s wrath because they had a good reason, is there a way to summon one?”
“There’s no way I’ve ever heard of,” Red replied. “Although, my mother did say that oracles have the biggest sweet tooth. Why don’t you return for dinner?” suggested Red suddenly. “Maybe you’ll notice who is stuffing themselves on dessert. Or maybe you can find an alchemist to approach.”
“I think the king recognized me,” Vera informed her. “I have a feeling he won’t allow me to play server again.”
“For one, the king eats dinner in his apartments so he can continue to work,” Red revealed. “For another, you are a guest while you are here and free to do as you wish. As much as that has to rub the king the wrong way, he seems determined to follow those rules. Without him present, maybe you’ll find some alchemists are easier to talk to.”
“You’re sure there’s no half-breed alchemist or kind alchemist-recluse I can talk to?”
“I guarantee none of those interactions would go well for you,” Red told her.
“Like, how bad could it go?”
“Alchemists value the power of blood, and yours seems to be unlike anything anyone here has ever seen before.”
Vera got the message. She only had a finite amount of blood in her system, and being hooked up to a blood drip for the rest of her life was not an existence worth risking at the moment. That was also why she couldn’t just make a formal request for someone to awaken her alchemist. She needed to find someone trustworthy. But speaking of blood... Vera hopped up to wash her hands. She’d forgotten that alchemists powered their potions with blood. She had to swallow hard to keep from gagging. She’d drank a frigging blood potion.
“You okay?” asked Red.
“Mm-hm.” Not at all. “When should I get here for dinner?”
Vera angled toward the table with the smiling man from that morning, carrying a platter with some of the best cuts of meat. At least that’s what Red had told her. To Vera, they all looked the same. He smiled broadly when she approached.
“Here she is, my beautiful juice maiden,” he announced. “And you
brought more treats for me.”
“I thought you’d enjoy a little something special,” she said.
“You’re going to spoil me. I’m not worthy of your generosity.”
“No, you aren’t,” said a surly voice behind Vera. The nice man’s smile melted as Vera turned to face the prince.
“I’ve been instructed to apologize for my behavior this morning,” said the prince. “If I’d realized you were a guest of my father’s, I would not have behaved as I did.”
Gee, so magnanimous of you. “You need to learn how to apologize better. Saying you’re being forced to apologize isn’t really an apology.” Vera hitched an elbow on her hip to support the weight of her platter. “And are you saying you wouldn’t have been sorry if I hadn’t been a guest?”
The prince didn’t reply.
“Well, take your un-apology and stuff it.”
The man behind her choked into his glass.
“Get out, Felix, and do not speak to her again,” the prince barked. Felix didn’t argue, just stood and fled the room. The prince had just screwed over her best prospect.
“Why did you do that?”
He took the platter from her and handed it to a passing server. “Because he thought you were a human servant.”
“Maybe I didn't mind.”
“Maybe not,” the prince said dryly. “But would you mind if I told you that Felix has ongoing bets about how many servants he can coax into bed each week, month, and year? I believe he’s got to beat sixty this year to win the pot. He’s halfway there. Some are repeats, of course, but he enjoys adding new blood to his wall of conquests. And when he gets a girl on the hook, he doesn’t give up until the girl gives in—no matter how miserable he has to make her life first.”
Yeah, that wouldn’t have gone well—for Felix. “Fine, thank you for scaring off the skeazball.”
“Your thank-yous are about as good as my sorries,” the prince noted.
