The Potion Diaries 2

by Amy Alward

  Her eyes flash. ‘What did your grandfather tell you?’

  She wants something from me, so I’ll give her something. A dead end. ‘Something about . . . centaurs,’ I say through gritted teeth, squeezing my eyes tightly shut.

  My bonds loosen and I relax. Maybe she bought it.

  But then I’m lifted up and out of the chair. I fly through the air until my back slams against the rocky classroom wall, pinned there by magic. The back of my head throbs and I cry out in pain. ‘LIAR!’ Emilia screams, her wand pointed directly at me.

  ‘I don’t know anything,’ I sob.

  I drop to the ground, landing hard on my knees. I don’t feel strong any more. I don’t feel like a winner of the Wilde Hunt, an experienced adventurer. I feel like a kid who just wants to go home.

  ‘What is the meaning of this?’

  I look up, not daring to believe my eyes.

  Standing in the doorway of the classroom, his golden hair shining even in the dim light, is my rescuer. Someone has finally found me.

  Prince Stefan.

  CHAPTER FORTY

  Samantha

  I’M STILL CURLED UP IN my little ball, and I don’t relax until I feel the Prince’s comforting hands on my back. ‘Come, now, Samantha.’

  ‘Home? Can I go home now?’

  ‘Hush, hush. Come with me.’

  I let him help me to my feet, gripping the sleeve of his shirt. I’m not letting go. I’m not letting Emilia take me again. When I dare to look at the front of the classroom, both Emilia and Ivan are gone. ‘Emilia – it was Emilia Thoth who kidnapped me. Did you see her?’

  ‘I saw her all right. She’s done a very bad thing. Let’s get out of here.’

  I give him a grateful smile. ‘Thank you. Thank you, thank you, thank you. How did you find me?’

  ‘I know everything that goes on in my country.’ His eyes narrow. They’re still the same tiger-striped shade as before. Maybe it wasn’t a glamour, after all. ‘Or at least, I thought I did. No matter now, I’ve found you.’

  ‘Do you have a cellphone? Can I send a message to my parents?’

  ‘Not from in here. As soon as we’re out of this region, we’ll get signal again. It’s very traditional here, as you’ve seen.’

  ‘Okay.’

  I can’t believe my luck. Even the caves don’t seem as scary now that I’m crossing them on my way to freedom. The Prince speaks comforting, soothing words to me for the whole walk back via the Great Hall.

  Outside, there’s a horse and carriage waiting for us. The horses are greys, their coats shiny and bright, with none of the menacing qualities of Emilia’s black stallions. Stefan gives me a boost into the carriage. This is much plusher than the hay bales I was sitting on before. The seats are covered in crushed red velvet and the curtains covering the windows are made of purple silk.

  Stefan gets in after me, shutting the door. I hear the crack of a whip and the horses pull forward. I breathe out a long sigh of relief. Home, at last. I’ll get the Princess to send the NSS to secure my grandad’s memories and they can recapture Emilia and . . .

  ‘You must be tired,’ the Prince says. ‘That’s quite some ordeal you’ve been through. Do you want to sleep?’

  I shake my head. ‘I don’t think I could. I’m just so glad to be leaving.’

  ‘I’m glad to have found you.’ He gives me a small smile, then he turns and looks out the window.

  The goofy grin I’ve had plastered on my face slips a little. Even though every fibre of my being prays that this is a rescue, one tiny voice slips through and whispers, But how did he find you so fast?

  ‘Did you know Emilia was using the Visir School as her base? When I asked you if I could come here . . . did you know?’ I try to keep my voice casual.

  ‘I’m sorry that this is what you’ve seen of Gergon. I think you would like it very much. In fact, do you mind if we make a detour? I have something to show you that I think you’ll find very interesting.’ He doesn’t wait for my answer, but turns around and opens a small hatch in the front of the carriage. He shouts something to the driver in a language I don’t understand.

  ‘I’d rather just go home, if that’s okay with you.’

  He smiles, but it makes the hair on the back of my neck stand up on end. I know I’m just being paranoid – being kidnapped will do that to you – but I shiver despite myself. ‘It will only take a few minutes,’ he says.

  I don’t really have a choice, so I just smile back.

  We take a different route to how I came in, skirting around the dark woods rather than through. The castle disappears from view as we follow the base of the cliff. Please let this be a faster route home. Please.

  ‘I’m taking you to my favourite village in Gergon. It’s called Botsani. The people here still live life as they did a hundred years ago.’

  ‘Is that a good thing?’ I ask.

  ‘That depends on whom you ask. I think so. As a Prince and representative of my country, I need modern things . . . a cellphone, computer, transport panels, etc. But how much freer would life be if I didn’t have them? Ah, look . . .’

  I lean out of the window to see where Prince Stefan is pointing. Down in the valley below us sits a picture-perfect village, with tiny, colourful houses topped with thatched roofs. The hills stretching up from the valley are covered in funny looking hay bales the shape of upside-down ice-cream cones. Under any other circumstance, I would be utterly enchanted.

  ‘Is that a shepherd I see?’ Our carriage creaks past a young boy, a piece of straw dangling from his mouth, with one kid goat under his arm.

  ‘Yes – except look a little closer.’

  I blink and look again. ‘Oh – it’s not a goat at all. It’s a satyr.’

  ‘Exactly!’ Prince Stefan grins like he’s just told me I’ve won the lottery. But I don’t get it. My brain just isn’t functioning properly – all I can think of is home, home home. He leans forward, his amber eyes locked onto mine. ‘Don’t you see? The people here live in harmony with their Wild and magical creatures. Just like it used to be in Nova, a long time ago.’

  ‘That’s true,’ I say, and his smile returns. I turn back to the window as the boy puts down the satyr, who runs around his ankles and gently head-butts his knees. They do look happy.

  There used to be way more magical creatures in Nova, especially near Kingstown. There was a big uproar when the bones of an entire kelpie colony were found buried underneath one of the luxury spas just outside the city. It was a reminder of how far we’d buried the memory of the Wild creatures that once called our city home.

  As we enter the village proper, people leave their houses to watch the carriage pass by. It’s not that different to travelling in the limousine with Evie, except that no one is snapping selfies out here. Once again, I’m struck by the total lack of mod-cons – no cars or mopeds outside the houses, no satellite dishes, no electric lights.

  ‘This is the best part,’ Stefan says. He raps on the carriage wall closest to the driver and we pull up to a stop. He opens the door, jumping down to the ground, and helps me out too.

  There’s a queue of people standing patiently in line outside a store. There’s a woman with a baby in her arms, the baby staring at me with her gorgeous blue eyes, framed by long lashes. I give her a small wave. She buries her face in her mother’s chest, then looks back at me shyly.

  The people don’t seem to know what to do with the arrival of the Prince. They step back, pressing against the wall of the shop. Some of the men attempt a small bow, but Stefan waves them up.

  I look up, reading the name of the store. Andrej Alchemistik.

  ‘The local alchemist is at the centre of village life here, just as it should be. Come in and meet Andrej. He’s a legend.’

  The queue parts to let Prince Stefan and me through.

  As soon as I’m in the store, I feel at home. It’s amazing how similar the interior is to Kemi’s Potion Shop – the wall of ingredients, the recipe books scatte
red on the counter and the brown paper bags filled with made-up prescriptions.

  ‘Andrej, meet Samantha Kemi,’ says Prince Stefan. When Andrej steps out from behind the counter, I’m surprised by how young he is. Well, comparatively. He looks about my dad’s age, with a head of thick dark hair and a deep tan.

  I take his outstretched hand and shake it. There’s a slight twitch in Andrej’s eyebrow at the mention of the name ‘Kemi’. ‘Nice to meet you,’ I say. Then he puts his hand on his heart and shrugs apologetically.

  ‘He doesn’t speak Novaen,’ Prince Stefan explains.

  ‘Thank you for letting me visit your store,’ I say, and the Prince translates. I turn to him. ‘Can we . . . go now?’

  ‘Sure, sure,’ he replies. He says something in rapid Gergonian to the alchemist, who replies with wild, flailing arm gestures. I get the distinct impression that all is not well in the alchemist’s world, despite what Prince Stefan is trying to show me.

  Once we’re back in the carriage, my curiosity gets the better of me. ‘I hate to ask but . . . what were all those people waiting for? It looked like half of the village was waiting for a potion. It’s good for an alchemist to be busy, but not that busy.’

  Prince Stefan nods and, as the carriage pulls away, he draws the curtains tightly shut.

  ‘I’m sure you’re still wondering why I took your boyfriend’s place at the ball.’

  Really? I think. I’ve been kidnapped, bound, gagged and imprisoned since then. I bite my lip even as alarm bells are ringing in my head. ‘But I was telling you the truth when I said I had to meet you. You see, I need your help.’

  ‘Well, you rescued me from Emilia. What can I do for you?’ I say, a little stiffly.

  He tilts his head to one side and for a moment, he’s not a tiger – he’s a kitten. ‘How much do you know about my family?’

  I raise my eyebrows. ‘Almost nothing, I guess.’

  ‘That’s good. That’s how they want it. Because if the truth came out . . .’ He leans his head against the door, swaying as the carriage rocks along the road. ‘You’ve been around the Novaen Royals a little bit now, so you might have a good understanding of how Royal magic works, as opposed to Talented.’

  ‘I know a little.’ My pulse picks up.

  ‘Something has been happening to my family. A rot. A disease. It started with my father. It happened so quickly . . . One day, he was fine, the next? His power was drained. He couldn’t do a single spell. My mother had to break a hole in the wall of their chambers so he could leave. But then she started to weaken too.’

  The blood drains from my face, but luckily he’s so wrapped up in his story that I don’t think he’s registered my expression. If what he’s saying is true . . . it’s terrible.

  ‘My brother made the decision to close down the borders – to stop anyone seeing what was happening – and to stop anyone getting out to tell the tale. He was infected too – at a slower rate than my parents, but the disease is certainly progressing. Every Talented in Gergon is affected to some degree. Only I have managed to stave off the worst of the symptoms – thanks to a special serum that an alchemist here has developed. So my family have been channelling their remaining power to me. I am what remains of Gergon now.’

  He looks up at me and I swallow, hard. ‘Prince Stefan . . . I’m so sorry. Other than power being drained, are there any other symptoms?’

  He nods. ‘A vicious cough. Weakness in our limbs. You can be assured that our very best alchemists have been on their own Hunt for the cure – even Andrej was involved – but of course, we couldn’t make it a worldwide event like Nova. Not when the entire Royal family was affected.’

  ‘No, of course not . . .’

  ‘It is spreading to common Talenteds now. We are dying, Samantha.’ He reaches out and grips my hands, so fast he’s like a viper. ‘I thought I had a hope,’ he says, his tiger eyes searching my ordinary brown ones. ‘I thought if I could only marry the Princess . . . then her power would flow through into me and I could save my family – save my country. But she has refused me – once, before the Wilde Hunt. And once at the Laville Ball. I am running out of time, and out of options.’

  ‘If you told her, maybe—’

  ‘No, don’t you see? Nova and Gergon have been rivals for centuries. Although things have been peaceful now, if the truth came out about how weak we are . . . I cannot take that risk.’

  I’m so moved by the Prince’s story, tears prick behind my eyes. ‘I don’t know how I can help you, but if I can . . .’

  ‘I’ve seen the lengths you’re willing to go to, to save your grandfather. Even the lengths you’re willing to go for your friends. I hope you understand the lengths I am willing to go, for my country.’

  He draws back the curtains in a lightning-quick movement. ‘Now, your aqua vitae is my only hope. Find it for me.’

  I drop my head into my hands. We’re back at the Visir School.

  And Emilia is standing there, waiting for me. She throws back her head and laughs.

  CHAPTER FORTY-ONE

  Samantha

  I WAKE IN THE DARKNESS of my cell. It doesn’t matter what this place was before – to me now, it’s a prison. I can’t remember much after the carriage ride, my mind shutting down at the prospect of being trapped here for good after being so close to freedom. Or the illusion of it, anyway.

  Prince Stefan and his family had been behind this the whole time, willing to do anything to preserve their power.

  I don’t know how long I’ve been out, but it’s still light outside. Maybe I slept all through the night and now it’s morning? Maybe I was only passed out for a few minutes? My stomach growls. I ignore it. I roll over on my bed and pull the blankets up over my head. Sleep was oblivion. I prefer it.

  A sharp rap on my door makes every muscle in my body tense. The door swings open. ‘Wake up, Samantha. Time to go.’

  ‘Make me,’ I say. The petty defiance barely makes me feel any better, and I swing my legs off the bed despite my words. The only fraying string of hope I have in this place is speaking to my grandad again. I follow Emilia, making sure to keep my distance. Ivan is nowhere to be seen. Now that Prince Stefan is here, she must feel more comfortable to be alone with me. She knows I’m hardly a physical threat.

  I sneak glances at her back as we walk. It’s actually eerie how much she resembles Princess Evelyn from this angle, where I can’t see her face or any bare skin. Her hair is long, like Evelyn’s, wrapped in several bands down her back. She carries herself with the same self-assured confidence, her head and neck straight as if she were wearing a heavy crown that required balance.

  But Emilia will never wear the crown. I understand now. The Wilde Hunt had been her golden opportunity to take the throne; now she’s back to being a pawn in Gergon’s political game.

  We don’t head straight down to the caves. Instead, we walk back through the main hallway and I get more of an impression of what the school must have once been like. It’s incredibly creepy to be walking down the cavernous hallways, our footsteps echoing off the high ceilings. There are dusty paintings of old teachers on the wall, grim-looking portraits of such miserable-looking people that, frankly, it gives alchemy a bad name.

  I wonder how long Emilia has lived here. Is this how she got her alchemical training? I wonder how long the Gergon Royals have been prepping her for just this sort of occasion. Someone who hates Nova and who will do anything to get back at them. Someone who’s willing to take dark potions and ruin their body. Someone who would sacrifice her alchemical skill to make the aqua vitae – because what does she have to lose?

  ‘They say that at its peak, the school had over two thousand students. They even had some students from Nova. One of them went on to be a teacher here. Do you recognise that name, Sam?’ She’s stopped underneath one of the portraits.

  I reluctantly look up, and catch sight of the name: Helena Kemi.

  Another ancient ancestor, my great-great-great-too-many-to-mentio
n-grandmother. I’ve seen her diaries on our shelves.

  ‘Did you know it was at this school that they perfected the isolation and preservation of patches of Wilds – like the famous one they have in Laville, which I’m sure you saw . . .’

  For the first time, Emilia seems almost wistful for Laville. I wonder if she misses having a normal life. She would have been offered so many privileges as the daughter of Royalty – just not the one she always wanted. As the second child, she would not have been as powerful as her brother, the King, or as Princess Evelyn is. But she maybe would have won the opportunity to join a first family and increase her power, like Stefan wanted to do by marrying Evelyn. Why would she squander that for this life of loneliness and dark potions and covert operations?

  My curiosity gets the better of me. ‘How did you come to be here?’

  She pauses in the hallway, forcing me to stop too. A beam of light streams through one of the tall windows, catching one side of Emilia’s face. For an instant it overexposes her skin, blanching it so that I almost can’t see the horror beneath.

  She sighs and steps sideways, out of the light, shaking her head as if it burned her. ‘I hate what Nova has become.’ Bitterness laces her every word. ‘My brother loves it. He has all the power . . . and for what? So he can live in his floating Palace with his empty-headed Queen, throw extravagant parties and attend the openings of hospitals and primary schools? That’s not power. That’s a waste. He is a neutered puppy when he should be a wolf. He rolls over and plays dead when he should be leader of the pack.’ Quicker than I thought possible, Emilia whips her wand from its holster and blasts a hole in the wall of the Great Hall. The ground shakes with her power, and I shake with it. Thank the dragons that anger wasn’t directed at me. This time.