KYRA SET HER POTIONS SATCHEL on the sturdy oak worktable in her old bedroom in the palace. Two days had passed since she’d arrested Arlo, and he was waiting downstairs in the courtroom. She couldn’t believe he’d elected to have the serum again. Maybe he thought she’d make another mistake. But there was no way he was getting off this time.
Kyra had decided to make up the dilution in her room. She didn’t want to spend one second more in the same room with the criminal than she had to in order to administer the serum.
And she wanted to enjoy this one last time with her potions. As punishment for holding a knife to her mother’s throat, Kyra had been forbidden potions work for half a year. Instead, she was to play the role of a proper lady: wait on the queen, attend royal events, and make herself useful around the castle.
Kyra would rather have poked out her own eyes.
But she knew better than to cross her mother. So she was going to do what she was told. Just this once.
She swirled the last drop of Peccant Pentothal into the dilution and put the cap back on the vial. Sighing, she cleaned up her work space and picked up the truth serum.
In the hall, a maid curtsied as she went by. “Thank you so much for saving the kingdom, my lady.”
Kyra hurried past. Everyone in the entire kingdom seemed to think she was some kind of hero now and felt the need to thank her personally. She was used to being somewhat famous—she was the queen’s niece and a Master Potioner, but this was a whole new level of fame. It would take some getting used to.
She found Arlo in the same interview cell as the first time they’d met. A scribe sat at one end of the table, and court officials were scattered throughout the room.
Arlo leered when he saw Kyra. “How nice of you to grace us with your presence, Master Potioner. Maybe this time you’ll succeed in killing me.”
“I wouldn’t be so cavalier if I were you,” Kyra said, setting her bag down on the table, across from him. “You won’t be getting out of this.”
“We’ll see.”
Kyra ignored him and carefully squeezed a drop of serum on one of his large manacled hands. He waited—perhaps for the same reaction as last time—but nothing obvious happened.
Kyra smiled and stood. “I don’t need to be here for the interview,” she said to the scribe and court officials. “I’ve seen enough of him to last me a lifetime.”
“You’ve made a mistake,” Arlo said as she turned to go. “You think you’ve got me, girlie, but you don’t. Not by a long shot.”
He began laughing. The sound filled the chamber, chasing Kyra as she slipped out.
The next day, Kyra heard that this time the serum had worked: Arlo had admitted to everything—plotting against the kingdom, kidnapping the princess and replacing her, manipulating poor soft-in-the-head Ellie the hermit, and everything else to do with the kidnapping.
He did not, however, admit anything about his other crimes. Somehow, his mind was a fierce blank in the kingdom’s interrogations. He kept hinting that no one was asking the right questions, and that if only they did, they’d find out everything they wanted to know. Because of what he might know, he wouldn’t be going near a hangman’s noose anytime soon. The king saw him as too valuable a resource to merely execute him.
But if staying alive made Arlo think he’d gotten the best of Kyra, he was totally wrong. She was more than happy to let him rot in the dungeon.
With Arlo behind bars, the queen started planning for a celebration ball in honor of the heroes. She had plenty of work for Ariana, Fred, and Kyra, and didn’t bother to respond when Ariana pointed out that loading them up with work was certainly not a reward for heroic services rendered. The queen had just kissed her on the head and sent her off to write out invitations.
Kyra didn’t mind the work at all—it was a distraction. Later that day, she went up to Ariana’s room and entered without knocking. The doors to the princess’s balcony, locked throughout her childhood, stood open. Kyra could hear laughter floating in.
Ariana and Fred. Her gut twisted. She was going to have to get used to this.
Kyra walked out and found her friends lounging on chairs.
Rosie and Langley were cuddled together by the low wall of the parapet. As Rosie ran up, her pink nose in the air, Kyra picked her up and set her on her lap. “Did you lift her, Fred? I think Rosie’s gained weight already! You brought her with you to the kitchens, didn’t you?”
“Of course. Sofie loves her. She’s a lovable creature.”
“A lovable creature who’s getting pudgy.”
“She’s not pudgy,” Fred said. “She’s just jolly. I don’t mind her getting fattened up at all.” He reached to pat Langley on the head.
“Which you will as well,” Ari said, “if you’re just going to lounge around here.”
“Nothing wrong with lounging.” Fred scooted further down in his chair. “We deserve a little nap.”
“No time for napping,” Kyra said. “Not when there are parties to plan.”
“Ugh!” Ariana said. “Don’t remind me. I promised Mother I’d do place settings by end of day. What time is it?”
Fred pulled his watch out of his pocket. “Quarter to three.” He set it down on the table between them.
“Plenty of time to do that and get in a nice ride in. If you two are just going to lie around here, I’m heading out.” Ari stood up and brushed her hands off on her pants. “Later, lazybones!”
“Your future wife sure is a sweetheart,” Kyra said, though it hurt to joke about the nuptials that were undoubtedly right around the corner.
Fred didn’t appear to catch her tone. “I’ll say.” He settled back with his eyes closed.
Kyra desperately wanted to say something, demand that he explain why he’d kissed her when he was an engaged man; if there’d been anything there between them or if he’d just been messing with her. But she didn’t say anything, just watched as he appeared to fall into a deep sleep. She wasn’t sure she wanted to know the answer.
She picked up his pocket watch, the one the witch had stolen. And he’d apparently stolen back.
She looked and understood why.
Engraved on the back in tiny writing was PRINCE FREDERICK LANTANA III, OF ARCADIA. He hadn’t wanted anyone to find out who he was.
And she’d thought he’d stolen back her necklace to be nice.
The evening of the ball finally arrived, and when it did, Kyra found herself hesitating outside the giant arched doors of the ballroom. She’d left Rosie in the kitchen with Langley, to be spoiled rotten by Sofie and the staff.
Ariana tramped down the hall, a new green dress swishing around her, and stopped short at the sight of her friend. “You okay?” she asked.
“Yeah,” Kyra said. “I just haven’t been in there since, you know, I tried to kill you and all.”
“I guess you want to relish the moment.” Ariana bumped her shoulder playfully.
“Exactly.”
“You look like you’re going to throw up.”
“You can’t imagine, Ari, making the decision to kill someone you love. Your whole idea of who you are flips upside down. I went to Arlo for help! I’d become a criminal.”
“Kitty.” Ariana took her hand. “You know who you are. Nothing can change that. Deep down inside you knew it wasn’t really me—that it was really a monster. You’re a good person, trust me.”
Kyra looked at the doors to the ballroom. That’s where it had all happened. She’d stood with a poisoned needle in her hand, and—Arlo had been right—there had been murder in her heart.
“How about”—Ariana put her arm through Kyra’s—“we go in together and I’ll tell you a secret.”
“Really? You’ve got a secret?” Instead of running away, Kyra leaned in toward her friend and was through the doors and into the ballroom before she knew it.
“I do, but it isn’t going public quite yet, so you can’t tell anyone about it.” Ariana expertly dodged her way through the crowd, ignoring the welcoming hands of people.
Kyra nodded at Ned and Hal as she passed them at the cake table.
Ariana brought Kyra over to an empty spot next to a table stacked with clear crystal goblets. “I’m not marrying Fred.”
“What?”
“Mom tried to pretend like the whole thing didn’t completely throw her for a loop, but she’s really freaked out by the whole fake princess thing. So I took advantage.”
“Ari!”
“What? It’s the smart thing to do. Anyway, I got her to promise that I could at least pick out my own husband.”
“I thought you liked Fred.”
“I adore him, but not as a husband, Kitty. As a fun and slightly ridiculous friend, or the sometimes annoying brother I never had, but not as a husband.”
“Does Fred know?” Kyra took an empty goblet and shakily filled it with amber-colored liquid.
“I told him before dinner.”
“Is he, um, unhappy?”
Ariana looked right into Kyra’s olive-colored eyes, her own eyes sparkling. “Why do you ask?”
When Kyra didn’t answer, Ariana whisked the goblet out of Kyra’s hand and said, “Why don’t you go ask him? He’s right across the room.”
Kyra looked, but Fred was turned away from her.
Ariana went on. “Is he talking to Hal? How did Fred even get in there with all of those women mobbing the guy?” She left Kyra standing there, gobletless, and half in shock.
Before Kyra could even begin to think seriously about talking to Fred, the Duchess Genria was at her side. “So, you’ve had quite the adventure.”
“Hello, Mother,” Kyra responded, resigned.
“I hope you’re taking your punishment seriously. I’ve recovered from your bad manners at the ducal palace, but your poor father is still in shock. That little show you put on in the dining hall probably took years off his life.”
“I had to, Mom,” Kyra said. “I was saving the kingdom.” She didn’t mention that her father was doing just fine, because it was impossible to argue with the duchess. Her father had even made the trip here to attend the ball, and was, in fact, across the room right now laughing at something the king was saying.
“Yes, well, you could have tried something a little less exciting around your father. You know how excitement upsets his digestion.”
“I’ll try to remember that next time.”
“Yes, you do that.” The duchess half lowered her lids. “I spoke with my friend Muriel, the witch who you had the little altercation with. She said it was all a misunderstanding.”
Kyra’s breath caught. “She tried to eat me.”
“She was just trying to scare you.” The duchess’s green eyes swept over Kyra. “If you would get some training, you would never be at the mercy of another witch.”
“I did just fine with potions.”
“But you could do so much more if you could harness both magic and potions. Please consider training, Kyra. I’d feel better knowing you were safe out there in the world if you had all of your gifts at your disposal.”
People were dancing now, in a swirl of colored dresses and shining faces. Kyra watched them flit by. Arlo had known an awful lot about how the castle operated to be able to pull off what he had. Were there people in this room right now who’d assisted him? One of those shining faces could be a traitor and Kyra wouldn’t even know it. She couldn’t douse the whole room in truth serum.
What if she could use her Sight to find out?
The duchess patiently sipped her mead, watching the dancers.
“I’ll think about it,” Kyra said.
If the duchess was surprised, she did a good job of hiding it. “We’ll need to find you a teacher. Muriel really is a skilled witch—”
“Mom!”
“—but you seem to harbor some ill feelings toward her. I’m not quite sure I trust her if it comes to that, but apprentice/teacher contracts have a nonharm spell on them usually. She doesn’t have the Sight, though. It’s a rare gift. I’ll have to do some looking into this.…”
As the duchess began moving away, Kyra shouted, “I just said I’d think about it.”
The duchess kept going, not bothering to respond.
Kyra had no idea what she’d just gotten herself into. She picked up an empty goblet and began filling it with mead.
An extremely handsome young man approached her, in full royal gear complete with a velvet coat, and Kyra almost dropped her glass when she realized it was Fred.
Fred took the goblet from her. “How sweet, you got me a glass.” He took a sip of the mead. “This is good! Gotta love those bee-keeping monks.”
Kyra caught a glimpse of Ariana across the hall.
It was all well and good for Ariana to think that she and Fred were just friends, but how could Fred not be in love with Ariana?
“Ariana told me she canceled the wedding,” Kyra blurted out before she could stop herself.
“She did.”
“I’m sorry. I can’t imagine you’re happy about that.”
“Why would you think that?”
“Well, she’s Ariana. How can you not love her?”
Fred’s mouth lifted on one side. “That’s true. It is difficult not to love her.”
“And you won’t get half a kingdom anymore, either.”
“Maybe I could woo her.” Fred rubbed the stem of his glass. “I’m sure she’d have me if it was by her own choice.”
Kyra’s stomach dropped. “What?”
“Kyra.” Fred caught Kyra’s eyes. “I’m not in love with Ariana and I don’t want half the kingdom.”
“You don’t?”
He shook his head. “But I might stick around for a little while longer. There are some interesting things in the Kingdom of Mohr.”
“Like what?”
“Like a certain funny and extremely talented potioner.”
Kyra took a breath. “I have to warn you, Hal isn’t that great as a boyfriend. He’s pretty self-absorbed.”
The edges of Fred’s mouth turned up a fraction more. “Kyra, I think you know who I mean.”
“Is this because you found out I’m a princess?”
He shot her a look.
Kyra smiled inwardly, but she didn’t quite know what to say.
She didn’t have to say anything, because Fred continued. “May I ask you one thing?”
“Mm-hm.”
“What in the world were you doing wearing that ridiculous underwear when I first met you?” He started laughing.
“You try picking out reasonable underwear when you’re fleeing an entire staff of palace guards!”
“Wouldn’t it have made sense to pack before you attempted to kill the princess?”
Kyra looked at him seriously. “I wasn’t planning to run away after I killed the princess. I wouldn’t have been able to live with myself after having murdered my cousin and my best friend. I was planning a nice trip to prison, and from there to the executioner’s. So when my dart didn’t kill the princess, all I could think was, I’ve got to get out of here so I can finish the job later. After I finally ditched the guards, I had to hide in a dumbwaiter for a good four hours before I could sneak into my room and away.”
Fred had been listening intently, but started laughing again. “You hid in the dumbwaiter?”
“Yes.”
“What if they’d called it down to send up some tea or something?”
“They would have been in for a surprise.”
“I’m glad you escaped, Kyra,” Fred said, looking serious again. “And that I found you.”
“Me too,” Kyra said, glancing up at him. “It wouldn’t have been much of a life trying to live in the dumbwaiter.”
Fred leaned down and kissed Kyra full on the lips.
Kyra pulled away. “How do you know I’m interested in you? Just because you’ve decided I’m worth hanging around for doesn’t mean I feel the same way.”
Fred cocked his head at her. “Really?”
“Oh, okay,” Kyra said.
Then she kissed him back.
THE SIGN OF A LIFE WELL LIVED is that there are always too many people to thank.
A few of those who helped bring Poison to print: Bridget’s writing family—the Madison, Wisconsin, Writers’ Group: Georgia Beaverson, Judy Bryan, Emily Kokie, Michael Kress-Russick, Rosanne Lindsay, Julie Shaull, Kashmira Sheth, and Melinda Starkweather.
Friends and fellow authors who lent their insights: April Henry, Janet Piehl, and Emily Whitman.
Publishing pros and industry shepherds: Michael Stearns (agent and friend), Tamson Weston (who bought it), Catherine Onder and Hayley Wagreich (who saw it through), and Stephanie Lurie and the rest of the dream team at Disney-Hyperion.
And always and ever, those who loved it first and fiercest: Richard Zinn (Daddo)—“Okay, now you can read it”—and Barrett Dowell, husband, best friend, and soul mate.
“Thanks for everything. Love to you all.”