The Potion Diaries 2

by Amy Alward

The bonus is, she looks calmer afterwards. A little. ‘Gergon is different. They showed me what true Royal power is like, that there would be, could be, a different path for Nova. I just needed to be strong too. Stronger than the rest of my family. I owe them everything. And now I owe them the ultimate potion. Then, my time will come.’

  I’ve never been more afraid of Emilia than I am right now. Her determination is so fierce, it’s like she’s forgotten I’m there. She’s like a time bomb on the edge of explosion. The more I understand her, the more freaked out I am by her.

  She looks up into the ceiling, her eyes roaming the crumbling brick, the cracked chandeliers and the peeling frescos. ‘And although the school is in ruins, some of its protections remain. The special magic of the building means that I can’t be traced in here. Nobody can. Just in case thoughts of rescue had crossed your mind.’

  ‘No, you and the Prince have made it pretty clear that rescue is not going to be possible.’ I try to stop myself from shaking. I had suspected that there was something like that going on, but I didn’t actually want it to be true.

  ‘Good. Now, what do you think of this?’ She walks a few steps forward, then passes through a thick wooden door, which I have to really heave to push open. Heat blasts my face and the brightness causes me to squint. When my eyes adjust, I see that I’m in a kind of greenhouse.

  I recognise many of the plants – lots of them extremely dangerous and potent.

  Purple nightshade – the deadliest of poisons and also virtually untraceable.

  Speckled conium leaf – if ingested, can cause almost instant, though temporary, paralysis.

  Skeleton flower – a key ingredient in potions to alter appearance – can be used to replace chameleon scales if required.

  My mind whirls. It’s like a Wilds designed solely for alchemists. Arjun and Anita have a greenhouse in their backyard, but it doesn’t compare to this. This has multiple levels – and the treasures extend up, over and around each other. Emilia walks down the central aisle, her fingertips lightly brushing the plants as she passes. It’s the first time I’ve seen her look at anything with an expression that resembles love.

  One plant sidles up to her, a tendril unfurling in her direction and I jump back against a table, knocking a plant pot to the ground.

  ‘Ah yes, eluvian ivy,’ Emilia says, allowing the plant to wrap itself around her forearm like a snake. ‘I forgot you were well acquainted already. Don’t worry, you’re too emotionally unstable at the moment to interest it.’

  I bend down to clear up what I’ve just knocked off. While Emilia’s distracted, I slip a single leaf into my pocket. Speckled conium leaf. I have no idea how or when I’m going to use it, but it makes me feel better to have it with me.

  Emilia’s head snaps up, as if some kind of alarm has gone off in her mind. ‘The board is ready. Let’s go.’

  The visit to the greenhouse has revived me in a way I wouldn’t have believed possible. I can’t give up. I won’t.

  CHAPTER FORTY-TWO

  Samantha

  WE CROSS BACK OVER THE cavern walkway and I keep my eyes wide open. It pays off. I spy what looks to be the decaying remains of an old ladder clinging to the side of the cave wall. Maybe once upon a time, people went down to the water. That means potentially it leads somewhere.

  Somewhere . . . like escape?

  I snap my eyes away from it, in case Emilia turns around and sees me looking. But she doesn’t. We enter the classroom.

  Prince Stefan is already in the room. He’s wearing a military-style uniform: tan trousers and a tan shirt adorned with dark red lapels and polished brass buttons. Emilia is still in her idea of a uniform: a long black dress overlaid with a black shawl. They look like a really twisted couple. But even I can tell that being someone’s subordinate does not sit well with Emilia. I wonder if Stefan can see that too, or if he is blinded by what she can do for him.

  ‘Remember what’s at stake, Sam,’ he says to me. ‘Your grandad’s life. Your family’s future. If you succeed, I’ll make sure you never want for anything under my rule.’

  ‘Go die in a fire,’ I snap.

  He looks as if he’s about to hit me, but then he doubles over in a coughing fit. He turns bright red with effort, covering his mouth with his sleeve. But when he stands up again I can see a smattering of a powdery white substance over his arm, some of it collected into strands like a spider’s web.

  ‘I have your serum, your Highness,’ Emilia says. Stefan gestures for her to approach. She takes a small pill box out of one of the pockets of her cloak, then – without even waiting for Stefan to compose himself – takes one of the pills and pushes it into his mouth. I can half-read the name on the side of the box. It says ‘FELIP’. I shudder. It must be a medicinal potion made from King Felip’s waning power.

  The potion appears to take immediate effect. Stefan throws his head back and breathes deeply. When he looks at me again, his eyes sparkling, he seems even taller and stronger than before. The pill really worked wonders on him.

  ‘My dear Sam,’ he says, reaching out and placing his perfectly manicured hand on my cheek. I want to cower, but I won’t give him the satisfaction. I keep my expression neutral, and stare at him straight in the eyes. ‘You see? My alchemist helps me keep my condition under control. If only the Princess of Nova was so lucky. Instead, she was stuck with you. Now, when I am finally strong again, the Princess won’t have a choice. She will have to marry me. Or we will take Nova by force before she destroys it completely.’

  Nova’s not yours yet, I think. Not if I can help it. I block out his smarmy presence.

  ‘I have the next memory,’ Emilia says to Stefan, holding up a glass vial.

  ‘Good. I want to see this in action.’

  She pours it onto the blackboard.

  I don’t hesitate. I reach out and touch the paint.

  ‘Grandad?’

  Sam! His voice is full of excitement. You’re back. How long has it been? I have no idea of time.

  ‘Not long, I don’t think. It’s only been one night since we last spoke.’ I look around the memory. This seems to be an ordinary day in the store. Sixteen-year-old Grandad is at the till, serving customers in old-fashioned outfits coming through the shop door. I feel like I’m in a play.

  Good, but time is of the essence.

  ‘I know. Prince Stefan has arrived.’

  Prince Stefan? Of Gergon? What is he doing here?

  ‘He and his family are behind this. There’s some strange disease or sickness that has infected their entire family. That’s why they really need the aqua vitae. Emilia doesn’t want it for herself after all.’

  What does Emilia look like?

  I describe her appearance to him.

  Hmm. You would do well not to trust a word she says. Too much changeling poison. Emilia is a master at potions to change her appearance – remember that. What are the ingredients for her changing potion?

  ‘Changeling skin, a pinch of Talented blood . . .’

  Talented blood. Exactly. An ordinary cannot be impersonated but neither can ordinaries take a changeling potion – another reason why we are so well trusted. Such dark potions are for those with dark blood. If you escape, you cannot trust anyone Talented. Remember that.

  ‘Grandad, I need to have something to give Emilia and the Prince – a clue or a decoy. Otherwise they won’t keep me around.’

  I know, my heart. I think I have found a clue here, in this memory. It’s only a small thing, but it’s important. I hadn’t been paying much attention at the time, but Cleo kept mumbling about a lake of stars.

  ‘A lake of stars . . .’ I repeat. It means nothing to me, but it matches what the centaurs said. Where stars appear on command . . . Unfortunately, it’s still not a clue I can use.

  Sam, I have tried to protect you, but I know I have failed. If Emilia and a Prince of Gergon are going to these lengths to find the diary, then there is a chance they will succeed. They cannot. You must escape from he
r. You must find it first, and then you must promise me one thing. You must not make the aqua vitae.

  ‘What?’

  When you find the recipe, you must destroy it. It’s not worth it to save me. The cost is greater than you could ever imagine. In the wrong hands, the damage will be catastrophic. Not to mention that it would destroy your life. You will lose all your skill. Kemi’s Potion Shop will never run again.

  ‘It might never run again anyway,’ I say. ‘I need to save you. Or else . . .’

  You must find it. But you must not make it. You have to destroy the recipe. That’s your mission in finding the diary. Promise me, Sam.

  ‘I promise,’ I say, my throat tight.

  Good.

  Then another thought strikes me, and panic washes over me. ‘Why are you telling me this now? What’s changed?’

  There’s a long pause. The silence is terrifying. As you are my apprentice, I owe you the truth. My body won’t last much longer without my consciousness. I’m surprised I have lasted this long already.

  I could tell him about the synth now, but I can’t. This is what I’ve been afraid of: that it was only a temporary cure. ‘I understand,’ I choke out.

  Now go. Do what you can. Don’t worry about me – do not let Emilia get her hands on that diary.

  Now that we’ve spoken, I notice the memory itself. I’d been so wrapped up in talking to Grandad that I hadn’t realised the change of location. I take a look around, and the room feels eerily familiar, even though I don’t immediately recognise it. The door, the positioning of the windows . . . then I realise: it’s my room. Just with none of my decorations on the wall and none of my furniture. In fact, the bed has been moved to the middle of the room, whereas I prefer to sleep with my back up against a wall, underneath the window so I can turn and look at the stars. My desk with my computer is missing. Instead, there is only sparse furniture – except for a large trunk on the floor, covered in place stickers.

  Someone stirs in the bed and they must be really thin, because I had mistaken them for scrunched up bedclothes. Cleo. I wonder if a few years have passed since the last memory, because she looks so much older than before. White has appeared in her hair, and there are more lines on her face. Even in sleep, she looks weary, and much older than her early fifties – which is how old she should be.

  I look back at the trunk, because something has caught my eye. At first, it was the sticker of Mount Hallah – I’d recognise that anywhere. This must be Cleo’s trunk. I scan over it for clues as to other places she might have been, when I spot a sticker for a place called Lake of Stars. The lake Grandad mentioned. In the picture, it has the same shape as Lake Karst by Nadya’s camp. Could they be the same place? Where stars appear on command. Could it be a coincidence? My heartbeat quickens. Maybe the answer is right here, in front of my face.

  When I catch young Ostanes’ face in the mirror, I realise no time has passed at all. Through my grandad’s sixteen-year-old eyes, I watch as he cools Cleo’s forehead with a damp cloth, whispering soothing words. Cleo aged since the last memory – more rapidly than is at all natural. How could that be possible? Could making the aqua vitae really have such an effect? And if Cleo did make the potion, what happened to it, if she didn’t use it to win the Hunt? I’m angry on her behalf. That all this was in vain.

  My love for Grandad expands in my heart. He took care of his mother and the store at the same time. It gives me new-found respect for him. No wonder he is so hard on me: he had to endure so much more.

  ‘Mother, the letter came through from the council,’ young Ostanes says. ‘They’re willing to make me a master, but you have to make it to the ceremony. I know you can do it.’

  She turns her face towards him, but her eyes are empty – devoid of any warmth or intelligence or understanding. My heart breaks for him.

  Now you know why you cannot make the potion, says my grandfather’s voice.

  ‘I promise,’ I say.

  CHAPTER FORTY-THREE

  Samantha

  THE VISION FADES, AND I don’t resist the pull. Now that I have a destination in mind, I’m ready to move. I just need to get out of here first.

  ‘What did your grandad reveal?’ Emilia asks, as soon as I’m back in the classroom.

  ‘The terrible cost of the aqua vitae. I told you he knows nothing about where my grandmother’s diary is! She was a shell of her former self when she arrived back after the Hunt.’

  ‘She’s lying,’ says Prince Stefan, and I look up at him sharply. He’s staring at me through narrowed eyes. ‘She knows something. I can see it in her face. If you can’t get her to talk, make her.’

  My palms are slick with sweat. What does he mean, make her? Will they use torture? Or Ivan’s heavy fists? ‘I don’t know where it is, I swear! Maybe a few more sessions, some other memories . . .’

  ‘We know you already traced the centaurs and it was a dead end. We’re all running out of time here.’ When I offer him nothing, he turns on Emilia. ‘You said that this was a guarantee. If we could get Samantha here, then you could break her. This is what we’ve been working for! If she knows something about the diary, we must find out now. Use the truth serum.’

  I stiffen in my chair. Truth serums are terrifying, but I’m prepared for this. As part of my alchemist apprenticeship, Grandad made me ingest several variations of truth serums to test them – so that I can recognise when someone is trying to potion me. Truth serums can normally only be applied under the direction of a Talented lawyer (although I’ve violated that rule a few times in my young potions career). Obviously they’re not going to care about that here.

  But I know how to respond to a truth serum – even if I can’t lie when I’m under the influence. Some people crumble at the mere thought of taking one, but I am more confident. I know they can only ask three questions before the serum starts to wear off. After that, they can’t be certain of its effectiveness. I will speak the truth, but the bare minimum.

  ‘I have some serum prepared for this occasion,’ says Emilia. ‘I will return shortly.’

  It’s funny seeing Emilia in the same room as Prince Stefan, because she becomes a different person. She loses her natural swagger. I suppose she’s a woman under pressure. I wonder if it galls Emilia to have had to jump from one domineering family’s ship and landed straight on the deck of another.

  I’m left alone with Prince Stefan, although he is standing and I am still strapped down to the desk. He doesn’t question me further – but why would he, when he knows the truth serum is on its way?

  Instead, he goes up to the blackboard and runs his hand over it. There’s no danger of him being sucked in – there’s no memory on the board at the moment.

  Stefan walks over and examines the rows of vials containing the memories. He picks one up and twirls it around in his hand. It makes me sick to think that part of my grandad’s mind is contained within those tubes. Prince Stefan raises his hand and runs it through the front of his hair. I can’t believe my eyes . . . he’s using the inky black, glassy surface to check his reflection! How impossibly vain can you get? His real self is coming out now. He’s unreal.

  That’s his weakness, says a voice inside my head. The beginnings of a plan formulate in my mind.

  Emilia returns much quicker than I expect, the truth serum in hand.

  ‘Ready?’ She walks over to me. As used as I am to taking potions, I can’t help but feel uncomfortable. ‘Are you going to make this easy, or are you going to make Ivan come over here and force it down your throat?’

  I shoot her a dark glare, then I give in, because I don’t fancy having my mouth forced open when the outcome is going to be the same either way. I just have to trust in Grandad’s training. He’s never taught me wrong before.

  I tilt my head back and open my mouth. She pours the truth potion in.

  It tastes disgusting: bitter and gritty, and it burns the back of my throat as it slides down. Already the natural barriers in my mind fall down. The tri
ck to getting around a truth serum is to redirect the mind, rather than attempt to lie. I need to keep calm, breathe, and not fight the process.

  After the serum has had time to settle, Emilia begins her questioning.

  ‘Has your grandfather told you where your great-grandmother’s potion diary is?

  ‘No,’ I reply, and it’s the truth. He’s only hypothesised. One question down. Maybe I’ll get through this.

  ‘You’re being too specific,’ says Stefan.

  Emilia nods. ‘Do you know where the diary is?’

  Thankfully, this is another question I can answer truthfully. ‘No.’

  ‘This is the last question,’ says Emilia. Prince Stefan groans.

  ‘Let me try. Samantha, tell us where you would go next to find your great-grandmother’s journal.’

  I swallow before answering, trying not to reply directly. But there’s no way out of it, and the truth serum is pushing out the answer before my brain has a way to stop or redirect it. ‘The Lake of Stars,’ I say, through gritted teeth.

  The serum then makes me drowsy, and I slump down over the desk. Emilia nods, her mouth in a firm line. ‘Come on then. Let’s secure her and we can get going.’

  She grabs my upper arm and yanks me to my feet. ‘I’m coming, I’m coming,’ I say. Emilia quickly gets frustrated with me and walks out through the door. I follow behind, my feet falling over each other. I just about catch myself against the doorframe.

  Prince Stefan reaches out and grabs my arm before I fall completely. I slip the leaf I stole out of my pocket and put it in my mouth, pushing it into my cheek – careful not to break it. I flop about, exaggerating the weakness in my limbs. ‘Woah there, be careful,’ he says. ‘Don’t want you falling down into that pit of despair.’ He whispers in my ear, ‘We might still need you yet.’

  I stand up straighter, leaning against the doorframe. ‘You’re very handsome,’ I blurt out, then I slap my hands over my mouth.

  ‘Truth serum effects are lingering, are they?’

  ‘Something like that.’ I try to put on my best flirt, biting my bottom lip and fluttering my eyelids at him. I’m sure I look ridiculous – I feel it – but I know that if this is going to work, I need to play to his overinflated ego. ‘You’re right, you know. I wish Nova was more like Gergon. I wish alchemy was more respected.’