Poison

KYRA HAD GUESSED AS MUCH, but now she knew for sure: Ellie was the kidnapper.

It was Ellie who’d frozen Ariana in this back room, Ellie who’d stacked her up with the mannequins, Ellie who’d gotten rid of the princess’s things. That’s why he’d had Kyra’s poison in his apartment, that’s why Ariana recognized him, and that’s why Rosie had first led Kyra to him. That bit of scarf had probably been in Ellie’s keeping for so long that he’d stunk it up with his old-man smell before it ended up in Arlo’s possession.

But why had Ellie kidnapped Ariana?

Kyra slipped a clean needle out of her holster and hid it behind her back. Taking him out with a Doze dart would stop him from escaping, but it wouldn’t help her find out what she wanted to know.

“Ellie,” Kyra said, “so nice of you to drop in. What brings you here at this time of night? Or anywhere, really—since you so rarely leave Newman House?”

“My own business here, isn’t it?” Ellie said. “I own this place, can come around here any time I want.”

Ariana and Kyra exchanged a look. Ellie the hermit owned Gabrielle’s?

“You seemed awfully upset when you saw my friend Ariana here unfrozen,” Kyra said

“You broke into my store!” He started edging backward. “I should go to the constable right this minute.”

“I don’t think you want to do that.” Kyra didn’t have time to mess with a potion. Dropping the needle, she got into position to stop him with her body. “I think we should have a chat.”

As Fred stood up, the hermit fumbled in his pocket and pulled out a fistful of potion tubes. “Don’t step one foot closer! I’ve got weapons here that will put you all out for good! Stole them from her”—he gestured to Kyra with his chin—“so you know they’re dangerous.”

Kyra paused. He’d had the Peccant Pentothal in his room. Who knew what else he might have taken?

Ellie tossed two vials in the air and spun toward the door. Kyra lunged to catch them as Fred dashed after the old man. Unfortunately, Kyra dove directly in front of Fred, and they fell into a heap on the floor.

Kyra held a vial clutched tight in each hand.

Fred untangled himself and ran outside. He came back moments later. “He’s gone. Old man runs fast.”

Kyra opened her hands.

“Oh-one two-three-three. Gas Relief. Must be one of Ned’s. Can’t eat that much pie without consequences.” She turned the second bottle so she could read the label. “And 01 672. Sparkling Clean Dish Solution.”

She felt so stupid. She couldn’t get anything right. Now Ellie was out there somewhere, and they weren’t any closer to having answers.

“Wow,” Ariana said, “this really sucks.”

“No kidding.” Kyra brushed her long hair back with her hands. “Why in the world would he have kidnapped you? What could he possibly have to gain by it? He’s just a crazy old guy who lives by himself.”

Ariana shook her head and put the small portrait of Fred back into the locker. “So,” she said, coming back to them. “What do we do now?”

“First, we get some sleep.” Kyra said, her heart lifting a little at hearing Ariana’s we. “Then we make a plan.”

Fred, Ariana, and Kyra wound through the night-quiet streets of Wexford. Fred and Ariana spoke in hushed voices behind Kyra, Ariana’s laugh occasionally bubbling up into the dark. By the time they entered the forest on the far side of the palace, their voices had grown louder and they seemed to be enjoying themselves.

“Keep it down!” Kyra hissed. She forced herself to think about something else.

They needed to track down the fake princess, but it would help if first they knew what they were up against. What was she?

Kyra tried to open herself to her Sight, tried to focus it on the fake princess. But the only thing that flashed into her mind was the shriveled old face of the witch who had tried to kidnap them in the forest. She shivered; the witch had frozen her and Fred, just as Ariana had been frozen.

Was that why her image kept flashing into Kyra’s head?

She thought about the false princess in her vision—looking down from her parapet while the world beneath her withered and turned black. Kyra took a sharp intake of breath. What was it the witch had said she’d been touched by? An obeeka.

“What’s an obeeka?” Kyra asked.

Ariana said, “Oh, you know—kid’s monster story. Parasite that sucks the life out of people.” She waggled her fingers. “Oooh, scary!”

Fred laughed with her.

Kyra scowled and kept her thoughts to herself. What if obeekas weren’t just storybook monsters? If an obeeka could suck the life out of those around it, why not suck the life out of an entire kingdom using the Nuptial Bond?

“I think I know what the imposter princess is,” Kyra said. “Fred and I ran into a witch who told us an obeeka had touched me.”

Ariana squinted. “Stupid obeeka should know better than to touch our Kitty.”

“I’d hate to take the word of an evil witch who tried to eat us.” Fred threw a stick for Langley. “Is this one of those Seer things?”

Kyra ignored his question as the woods gave way to a small clearing. “We’re here,” she said.

“Good thinking, Kitty,” Ariana said. “I never would have thought of this.”

“Is it just me or are we looking at a completely empty meadow?” Fred asked.

“It’s just you,” Kyra said. She began the process of dissolving the concealments hiding the tiny secret hut where she used to hide things for her adventures with Ariana.

She put her potions back in their bag and opened the door. “Beautiful, isn’t it?”

Fred stepped inside the small shack and examined the dusty weapons hanging on the walls. “I’m glad we’re on the same side.”

“Me too,” Ariana said.

Kyra walked around Fred to a trunk and pulled out some moth-eaten bedding. There was space for maybe two of them to sleep on the floor, but not much more.

“I’ll sleep out here with Langley,” Fred said. “You girls can have the luxury of sleeping under a roof.”

“No, the royals should have the luxury of a roof,” Kyra said, thinking it’d be easier to sneak away in the morning.

Kyra felt a hand on her back. “Don’t even think about it.” Ariana’s voice came from behind her.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“I know you—you’re looking for a way to ditch us and go after this obeeka on your own.”

Kyra turned to her friend. “If you got hurt, Ariana, I’d never forgive myself.”

Ariana straightened, changing from a bedraggled-looking girl into the heir to the throne. “I want to save the kingdom too, Kyra. Promise me you’ll give me a chance to do it.”

Kyra finally nodded. “You’ve got my word.”

It took Kyra some time to fall asleep even with the warm pig tucked in beside her.

The memory of Fred’s—Ariana’s fiancé’s—kiss at the inn seared her. How could he do that knowing he was engaged to someone else?

The next morning, Kyra woke to the sound of birdsong, the crackle of a fire, and a lilt of two voices intertwining—

Fred and Ariana.

She stretched and felt for Rosie but found her bedroll empty. Light streamed in through the cracks around the door.

Outside, Fred was smiling his sunny smile at Ariana; Rosie was draped across her lap. The smoky smell of the fire was tinged with the sweet scent of something cooking.

Mmm, food.

“Kitty!” The princess interrupted her own stream of talk to pat the ground beside her. “You’re still here.”

Fred looked quizzically at Kyra. “Where else would she be?”

“You never know where you’ll find our slippery kitty cat. Fred’s making us breakfast.”

Fred drizzled honey over a pan of springberries bubbling on the fire.

Kyra shivered in the cool morning, settling next to Ariana. She was still wearing the white blouse, and it didn’t keep her as warm as her usual black shirt. But the soft fabric felt nice against her skin, so she’d resisted changing back.

Rosie opened an eye, and Kyra rubbed her cheek. The little pig shut her eye, lifting her cheek a fraction to give Kyra a better angle. Langley was chasing butterflies around the meadow.

Fred handed Kyra and Ariana warm biscuits. “So where do we start?”

Kyra took a bite and moaned happily. The springberries went perfectly with the toasty biscuits. Fred was a truly amazing cook. “I wish we knew more about what an obeeka can and can’t do—if we’re going to expose the fake princess, we need to be prepared.” She wiped biscuit crumbs off her pants. “The only thing I really know about them is the old children’s game called Face-stealer.”

“We played that game!” Fred said, rocking back on his heels. “The Face-stealer is picked by drawing straws, secretly, then runs around tagging people. The idea is that no one knows who it is, see? You can’t trust anyone. If the Face-stealer touches you, you fall to the ground. Last person standing wins.” Fred nibbled a biscuit. “Stupid game. Our diplomats must have picked it up from Mohr.”

“Or our diplomats picked it up from you.” Ariana lobbed her biscuit at him.

“You know the game, princess?” Fred asked.

Ariana chuckled, bitterness showing on her face. “I wasn’t allowed to play with other children.”

“It’s never too late.” Fred smiled wickedly. “Up! I’ll show you how it’s done.”

“It sounds like it’s just running around.”

“There are skills involved—skills of deception and treachery!”

Ariana set Rosie on the ground and took off running, Fred chasing her with a growl and the lumbering gate of a bear. Kyra had only ever played a few times. She hadn’t been all that interested in courtyard games. But at least she’d had the chance. Ariana hadn’t.

Ariana needed Fred. Not just to marry her and run the kingdom with her—she needed the fun, the playfulness that was all Fred.

They came back and flumped down, breathless. “Don’t get too confident,” Ariana said. “It was just my first game—next time I’ll be prepared.”

Kyra patted Ariana on the knee. “I’m sure you will, Ari.”

“That game was not,” Ariana said, “very instructive.”

Fred took the pan off the fire. “But it was fun.”

“I wish we knew who was involved,” Kyra mused. “Someone helped the obeeka, and not just Ellie—someone inside the palace gave her the information she needed to imitate you. It could be anyone. We don’t know who we can trust.”

“Just like the game!” Ariana said, plucking a berry out of the pan. Juice dripped from her fingers.

“Who would benefit?” Fred asked. “Who’s next in line for the throne after Ariana?” He handed her a clean red handkerchief from his pack.

“In Mohr, succession is through the female line. It would go to Mom’s sister,” Ariana said, making a face. “The Duchess Genria. Or to her daughter.”

Kyra cracked a smile. “Believe me, the duchess’s daughter is the least likely person in the world to be behind this.”

“Why do you think that?” Fred asked.

“I’ve known her all my life,” Ariana said. “Not a suspect.”

“It could be anyone,” Kyra repeated. She reached for the handkerchief to wipe her hands. “I think we need to find the fake princess before we’ll know what to do next. I’ve been searching for her for months, though, and I have no idea where they’re hiding her.”

“I know where she is,” Fred said.

“What?” Ariana and Kyra said at the same time.

“I’m full of untapped knowledge and wisdom.” Fred folded his hands behind his head. “I am the groom, after all.” He told them the story of how, while on his way to Mohr to start the whole pre-wedding business, a group of couriers had intercepted his traveling party. They’d had an urgent message about the assassination attempt, and redirected him to meet the princess at the ducal palace at Avon-on-the-River, where she was in protective custody. “Top secret and all that. Well, I wasn’t going to be hemmed in like a poor nobleman who can’t do a thing for himself. So I ditched my group and set off. I told everyone I was going to find the assassin myself, but I got a bit distracted.” He lay back and crossed his legs. “Hey, the fishing in your kingdom is the best I’ve ever seen. You can’t blame a guy.”

“You’re the man my parents have selected to be the next leader of the King’s Army?” Ariana snorted.

“Apparently. I hope the soldiers like fishing.”

“Does anyone know where you are?” Kyra asked Fred.

“Besides you two?”

“That’s why they postponed the wedding.” Kyra twisted the handkerchief into a knot. “It wasn’t because of me trying to kill the princess at all. They lost the groom.”

“The ducal palace,” Ariana murmured. “Interesting place to hide the fake me.”

“Why is that?” Fred asked.

“It’s where the duchess lives with the duke when she isn’t at the palace in Wexford.”

“Which doesn’t mean anything,” Kyra said. “Except that Ariana and I have both been there, and we know a few ways to get in that aren’t exactly common knowledge.”

While Fred cleaned up, Ariana and Kyra went through the stock of weapons in the hut.

The walls were lined with a myriad of dangerous items—razor-thin rapiers, broadswords as tall and thick as Kyra’s legs, maces, knives, throwing stars, and staves. There were so many spiky, deadly-looking things that the walls fairly glinted with menace.

They stood staring at the weapons, the faint sounds of Fred talking to Langley and the scraping of dishes floating in.

Ariana grabbed a little dagger from the wall. “So?” she demanded, startling Kyra.

“Soooo…what?” Kyra didn’t look at her.

“What’s the story with you and Hal?” Ariana flipped the dagger up in the air and caught it in her hand. “Still planning to marry the doofus when this is all said and done?”

Kyra plucked a sleek metal sword from a bracket on the wall. “It’s over between me and the pretty idiot. The final straw was that he didn’t trust my instincts about you, and now he’s helping hunt me down. But it was over before that.”

“Is fake me so convincing?” Ariana laid the dagger across her hand, checking the balance, then tossed it up, caught it, and threw it into a pocked practice board nailed to the wall.

“Not at all.” Kyra experimentally swung a thin sword down one-handed and darted forward in the small space, testing the weight. “God, you should see the wedding dress fake Ariana had made. It is so incredibly hideous, it might actually make you throw up. But there was more to it than just the dress.

“I’d only been back a few days when I had the vision.” Kyra’s voice went quiet. “It was of you—or fake you—using the Nuptial Bond to suck the life right out of the kingdom. It was horrible, a vision of the world turned to black ash. I tried explaining to Hal, and he wouldn’t listen. No one would believe me that something was wrong, not even your mother.”

It was quiet in the hut. Ariana had stopped playing with the dagger. “Why didn’t you ever tell me you were a Seer?”

“I couldn’t. I knew how you felt about witches.”

Here it was. All out on the table. Kyra wished she could dig a hole and hide in it rather than face her friend’s condemnation.

Ariana had a puzzled look on her face. “What do you mean? We never talked about witches.”

“That first day we met. You said they weren’t even human.”

“Kyra.” Ariana reached over and put a hand on Kyra’s arm. “I was twelve. I’d never even left my room. What did I know about anything?”

“I thought you’d stop being my friend if you found out.”

Ariana pulled her into a hug. “Kyra, I don’t know anything about witches, but if you’re one, it must be a good thing.”

Kyra’s eyes welled up.

There was a cough behind them, then Fred’s voice. “Are you two going to be hugging every time I walk into a room? I mean, I could get used to it, I just need to know.”

Kyra pulled herself from Ariana’s arms. “Don’t you have something you need to be doing?”

“I just came for this.” He grabbed a long staff off the wall. “I thought I should do some practicing before we storm any castles.” He walked off with the staff over his shoulder, and the girls watched from the doorway as he began going through a series of drills.

Kyra’s vision came back to her. There was the real Fred carrying one of her staffs, the tip glowing green with her poison. So her Sight hadn’t lied to her about that.

She could only hope that her vision of the false Ariana and the dying Kingdom of Mohr never came true.