by T.M. Nielsen
***
“Lord Alric just thought that we could help you,” the young woman said. She glanced at her friend, and then over to Kyrin, who was sitting in the bay window in the castle’s library.
“I’ve been married for eight years, to Rovald,” the other woman said. “Happily married. We met at the summer festival and have two beautiful daughters.”
Kyrin was getting sick. Alric had been watching her like a hawk for three days, and she got no time to herself to think. Now she was stuck in the library with two sniveling women who gushed about their husbands and children. She wanted nothing to do with the entire thing, and if given the chance, she would just end it.
She knew that preparations were being made for the wedding, even though she still swore it wasn’t going to happen. She hadn’t heard from Sithias or Daemionis and had plans formed on how to end her life without being stopped.
“You can ask us questions, anything you like,” the first told her. “No men are around, so we can tell you anything.”
“I don’t want to know anything about marriage in this bloody place,” Kyrin snapped at her, though she kept looking out the window.
“What do you mean in this place?”
Kyrin shrugged.
“Plus, you get to marry the king! He’s handsome, and kind, and you are just too lucky.”
Kyrin saw it shimmer through the window, and her eyes grew wide. A portal key was sitting on the grass not 100 yards from the library window, three floors below it. She knew that Sithias must have slipped out of the dimension, and his influence faded enough a natural portal had emerged.
Her heart raced. She had to get to it before it disappeared. As the women behind her spoke about their perfect marriages, Kyrin slid the window open and looked down on the grass, far below.
“Are you hot?” the first woman asked her.
“It is stuffy in the library,” the other one added.
Both gasped when Kyrin slid out the window and disappeared. They ran to it and looked down as Kyrin hit the ground and started to run. Two knights had seen her and were in hot pursuit. Her speed boots were locked up, so she was using human speed.
“Stop!” one of them shouted.
Kyrin had twisted an ankle on the long fall and wasn’t able to move as fast as she wanted, though the portal key still seemed solid. The knights were gaining and now others had joined. They had strict orders to watch her and stop her if she began to disappear, though they didn’t quite know what that meant.
The first one that reached her grabbed her arm, just as she reached down to take a locket from the ground. She spun and tried to hit his neck, but his other hand blocked her and grabbed her wrist.
She dropped suddenly, throwing him forward, and he rolled over her and landed at the base of the invisible portal. When she scrambled to her feet, another knight grabbed her from behind and locked his hands around her at her waist.
“Stop fighting us,” he said, starting back for the castle. “King Alric said you aren’t to be alone out of the castle.”
No matter how hard she fought, she couldn’t get free, and he had her hands trapped at her sides. Alric had taken her flail and locked it in the weapon’s room, so all she had was magic. While she could easily best most men in a fight, Alric’s seasoned knights were well trained and heavily buffed. They all had rippling muscles and broad, thick shoulders and necks.
“What happened?” Trox asked, coming out to meet them.
“She jumped out of the library window,” the knight said, and put her down. As was instructed by Alric, the knight at each side of her took a hand to keep them apart.
“Did you injure yourself?” Trox asked, looking her over.
“No”
“She’s limping slightly,” the knight told him.
“King Alric is busy right now. I will watch her,” Trox said, and started back inside. The knights forced Kyrin to follow and only let go when they were both in Trox’s room.
Kyrin looked around at the boiling caldrons and steaming pots in his room.
“Interested?” Trox asked, seeing her eye a green bubbling potion.
She tried to sound mad but was suddenly curious. “What is it?”
“That’s a truth serum,” he said, walking over to her. He pointed to the others. “I’m trying to make a healing potion, but right now all it does is get rid of warts.”
She couldn’t help but smile. “Are you serious?”
“Why, yes, I am.” He looked at her over his moon-shaped spectacles, and his eyes twinkled. She’d never liked him but realized she didn’t have any reason not to.
“What’s in the healing potion?” she asked, bending to take a closer look.
“Chervil, knotgrass, and belladonna.”
“I don’t know what those are. Can I see them?”
“Sure,” Trox said, and then dug around in a large cabinet. He came back with three bottles, and she looked at them.
She thought for a moment. “Have you added the blood from a dying man?”
“No, why would I?”
“Add some of the green leaves with red veins, and I’ll be right back,” she said, and ran out of his room. Once he saw she had knights with her, he did as she asked and watched the potion go from green to almost pink. “Curious.”
Kyrin came back in, and Trox was sure she looked happier than she had in weeks. “Just a drop. This stuff is hard to come by.”
“It’s hard to come by blood from a dying man?”
“He has to be dying, then you get the blood and kill him. Then it works,” she said, unstopping a vial.
He watched her. “So where did you get it?”
She ignored him and put one tiny drop of blood into the pot. Once it started to bubble and swirls of color swarmed up into the smoke, she stepped back, as did Trox.
When it stopped boiling, she stepped forward and smelled it. “Done.”
“That’s it?” he asked, looking into the pot.
“Of course. So why learn potions?”
“They come in handy. I’d like to be able to send healing potions with the knights, for instance. However, the potion making left with the…” Trox looked at her with wide eyes. “It left with the magic users.”
“It has nothing to do with magic. You just have to know what’s needed,” she said, looking down at the potion. “Let’s give it a go.”
“I don’t know anyone that’s injured.”
She rolled her eyes and picked up the knife he was using to cut up roots. As he watched, she cut her palm slightly. Seeing what she was doing, he ripped the knife from her hand. “Why did you do that?!”
“To test it,” she said. She dipped a spoon into the potion and then took a sip. Trox watched as the wound healed and was quickly gone without even a scar.
“That’s… oh my god. You did it!”
“Of course. You just have to know what the potion needs in return for helping.”
“Meaning what?”
“Well, you wanted to heal a human, so it takes the death of a human to make. It has to have payment for doing what you want it to.”
“It’s a potion.”
She smiled. “If you want it to work, you have to follow the rules.”
“Fine, let’s look at this one,” he said, walking over to the bubbling vial. “I want to make a truth spell.”
“Okay, so what does it do right now?”
“Makes people vomit.”
She laughed. “Great. What’s in it?”
Trox walked over to his cabinet again and started going through it. He handed her the eighteen vials, and she started looking through them. Half she put on one side, half on the other.
When she was done, she pointed to the pile on her left. “Those are useless for lying.”
He nodded and put them away. “Repayment then?”
“Lying… lying…,” she said, deep in thought. “Let’s try the tears of someone in mourning.”
/>
He frowned. “Why?”
“Well, when someone is in mourning, they are too distraught to lie. So we give the potion pure truth.”
“How do you come up with this stuff?” he asked, looking over her carefully.
“I learned the theory from an assassin that makes poisons. It’s the same idea,” she said. “So shall we make a truth serum?”
“I’m fresh out of tears.”
She smiled. “True. Well, we can work on something else.”
He nodded, suddenly realizing he was enjoying this time with her. “What shall we make then?”
“An age potion?”
“To make people younger?”
“Sure, why not?”
“That goes against nature.”
“And your healing doesn’t?” she asked him.
