Chapter Fifteen
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Scarlett
After nightfall, the city was spectacular. Perfumes and spices filled the spring air, while fire braziers illuminated the colourful shops. Everything was chaotic and yet filled with life, in a way the perfect halls of the palace never would be.
But I wasn’t interested in the luxuries of the Higher Districts. I was looking for a specific place, the kind that dealt in gold and secrets.
The streets sloped downwards, drawing me closer to the docks. Winding my way through the twisting alleyways, I kept a careful eye on my surroundings. The Lower Districts were filled with brothels, unscrupulous traders and fighting pits. It wasn’t the kind of place I could let my guard down.
Passing a collection of dim shopfronts, I paused in front of Madam Mandrakes. The apothecary appeared dark and unwelcoming, sinister even from the outside.
I couldn’t believe I was doing this. Was I really going to take Cassius’s advice?
Then again, I was running out of time and options. If I didn’t act soon, I might not get another chance.
And I was curious. Curious enough to allow this to play out – for the moment.
‘In the market for something untraceable, dearie?’
I turned quickly, expecting to find a sinister-looking poisoner. Instead, I found a young woman with silvery hair and pale eyes framed by long lashes. Her appearance was disarming, but I knew better than to trust appearances.
‘And if I was?’ I challenged, rankled by her use of the word dearie . ‘Would you be open then?’
The vendor followed my gaze to the sign hanging from the door: CLOSED. Her slow smile displayed even white teeth.
‘For you, Your Highness,’ she said with a slight bow, ‘I am always open.’
The title sent a shiver down my spine. I hadn’t expected to be recognised, and I couldn’t afford for anyone to know about this visit. ‘I don’t know who you think I am, but—’
‘Oh, I think you do. But if you prefer to remain anonymous, that’s understandable.’ The vendor reached for the door, extending a silver key. ‘Most people who visit my shop require discretion.’
I didn’t like the idea of relying on anyone’s discretion, least of all in a place like this. But I followed the vendor inside.
‘So,’ she continued, lighting a handful of candles, ‘what can I help you with?’
I hesitated, watching her walk over to the selection of plants displayed on the far wall. In the candlelight, her appearance flickered – shifting between a young woman and a crone, her back bowed like an ancient, gnarled tree.
My fingers rose to the blades embedded in my hair, but I didn’t draw them.
‘I assume you stock poisons?’
‘Of course.’ Her smile was devious. After slipping on a pair of gloves, she reached for her shears. ‘Perhaps you might recognise some.’
The candles barely illuminated the plants in the darkness, but I identified the purple, bell-shaped flowers of deadly nightshade, and the white clusters characteristic of hemlock. There were others that I’d never seen before: exotic plants and strange-coloured liquids whose origins, no matter how intently I studied them, remained a mystery.
‘Poisoning is an art,’ the vendor continued, ‘and one that is often undervalued. But I see that you value it.’
I wouldn’t go that far. After surviving multiple attempts on my life, I’d learnt about poisons out of necessity. Zandri had worked with me to develop a tolerance to some of the more common toxins, but that had been the extent of my interest – until now.
‘I can certainly appreciate your skill,’ I agreed, not wanting to offend the vendor, who was clearly more than she seemed. ‘I don’t know how I’d fare, working amongst poisons all day. I imagine even the slightest mistake could prove fatal.’
‘Rather like surviving the nest of vipers at court,’ the vendor returned, wearing a strange smile.
‘Yes,’ I said slowly. ‘I suppose it is.’
Still smiling, the vendor removed her gloves and turned away from me. She rummaged around for a few moments before finding what she was looking for.
‘A single drop of this is enough to cause a slow and untraceable death,’ she said, passing over a porcelain vial. When I hesitated, she looked amused. ‘You’re perfectly safe – see, I don’t even need my gloves.’ I took it warily, allowing our skin to brush as I did. ‘And this,’ she added, selecting a glass vial that contained amber-coloured liquid, ‘is distilled cobra venom. The onset is sudden; the victim will be dead within minutes.’
‘How much for both?’ I asked, considering the vials.
‘Two silver pieces,’ she announced. It was a large sum for most vendors in the Lower Districts, but not as much as I’d been expecting her to ask for. Not from a princess.
My body flooded with adrenaline. ‘So cheaply priced,’ I said, thinking quickly. ‘In that case, perhaps I should look around further. Your plants are intriguing – which is the deadliest?’
The vendor looked down at her hands and saw that she was wearing her gloves again. Satisfied her hands were protected, she reached towards a red and white flower. Its green stems crawled along the far wall like vines.
‘This one can kill with a single touch,’ she told me, her face filled with admiration. ‘It’s not as quick as the cobra venom; it must enter the bloodstream first, but when it does, it leads to paralysis and then death.’
‘Impressive,’ I replied, but it was becoming harder to keep the tension from my voice. I reached into my pocket with my gloved hands, selecting two silver pieces. ‘Thank you for your assistance. I’ll have to come back again soon.’
‘Any time,’ the vendor said, but her eyes weren’t on the silver. They were on my neck – on my pulse.
I took a few shallow breaths, steadying myself against the counter. When I looked up, the vendor only smiled.
‘Don’t worry,’ she said gently. ‘I placed a few drops of a fast-acting toxin on the vials of poison; it’s virtually painless. He insisted on that.’
‘Who did?’ I forced out.
‘I never asked his name. But I remember him well; he had such vivid, golden hair, the colour of the expensive coins he paid me.’
I bit through my lip, the taste of blood flooding my mouth. Cassius and his schemes. Always one step ahead, wasn’t he?
Well, not this time.
I straightened from my position against the counter, and the vendor’s eyes widened. I smiled faintly at her shock. I had known this was a possibility ever since Cassius had suggested Madam Mandrakes, and I had come prepared.
I held up my hands: my gloved hands. ‘I put these on when you turned around, searching for those vials.’ I nodded at her hands, which were unprotected – and covered with angry-looking blisters.
She cried out and stumbled back, jars and beakers crashing onto the floor. In the glow of the candlelight, her skin had a sickly pallor, her forehead coated with perspiration.
‘I imagine you’re not feeling so well,’ I said conversationally, perching on the edge of the bench.
Terrified realisation lit her eyes. ‘But – I was wearing gloves! And when I passed you those vials, your hands were bare—’
‘An illusion,’ I replied evenly. ‘Unfortunately for you, even my brothers don’t know the extent of my powers. All it takes is the slightest brush of my skin against another’s, and I can make them see whatever I wish.’
She slumped against the counter, her image returning to its true form – the crone I had glimpsed earlier, with a bowed back and thinning silver hair.
I felt no satisfaction at the sight of her contorted face. The vendor had tried to kill me, but I didn’t blame her for it: I blamed my brother. Even if Cassius hadn’t offered her a substantial bribe, no commoner would dare refuse a royal. Not unless they had a death wish.
‘I’m sorry for the choice of poison,’ I said, and meant every word. Kneeling at her side, I picked up the vial of distilled snake venom.
Paralysis must have set in; she was immobile, but her rheumy eyes held keen intelligence. If what she’d said was accurate, the plant poison was slower-acting. It was impossible to tell whether she was in pain, but given the choice between a quick death and a slow one, I knew which I’d choose.
I placed the vial of snake venom against her stiff lips. They parted, ever so slightly, her final choice.
A single drop was all it took.
As I watched the vendor’s chest go still, I was reminded of what she’d said earlier: Rather like surviving the nest of vipers at court.
I collected the two vials and turned to leave, thinking that it was so fitting it was almost poetic.
Snake venom – for a nest of vipers.
My nest of vipers.