Chapter 17 #2
‘Then I’ll look everywhere,’ he retorts, oblivious to my silent plea. ‘Those wraiths tonight were familiar, don’t you think? Do they always look like that, or does it vary by Souleater? You’ll have to forgive me, I’m not versed in the rules of your kind –’
‘Me neither,’ I snap. ‘They’re not my kind, as I keep telling you. But if it is the same Souleater, it’s too dangerous for you to go after them alone. What if you get hurt? What if you get killed?’
Astin shrugs. ‘It’s worth the risk.’
‘No, it’s not!’ Panic is a shooting star in my veins as Astin walks towards the entrance of the alley, on to the street, away from me, from us. ‘You can’t leave,’ I whisper.
We’re Daisy and Astin. Astin and Daisy. We haven’t been apart in two years. Surely that means something.
Surely that should make it harder to walk away.
He halts. ‘I can’t stay either.’
‘Wait . . . Astin . . .’ This wasn’t how this conversation was supposed to end. Love triumphs over hate, isn’t that how everything’s supposed to go? Isn’t that the whole point of the Laevothe festival?
But I already know that isn’t true.
He ignores my pleas and strides away, and this time I don’t chase after him. My gut twists into an anxious knot and I go clammy all over, bracing my hand against the wall, fighting the surge of nausea rising in my throat.
I’m alone. I’m alone, and he left me, and I – I hexed someone.
Beneath the nausea churning inside me, there’s a spark of energy, the leftover magic I didn’t expel in the maze.
Part of me wants to lash out, to spend it right now and be done with it, but what if that Souleater attacks again?
And besides, the thought of using it, after hurting that girl to get it, is abhorrent.
I stumble on to the street. Astin’s gone, swallowed by the crowd of festival visitors.
Wardens are instructing people to seek shelter in case the Souleater returns.
The mountains containing the Souleater settlement loom in the distance, towering over the far side of the city.
I pat my pocket to check the item I found within the statue is still tucked inside.
If I want to find the cure, I need one more.
If I’m brave enough to contemplate going alone.
‘Hey, Soulchugger.’
I jump, and turn to find Nuri and Cale approaching.
Cale looks thunderous, while there’s a manic, frazzled energy to Nuri.
Sweat sheens over her skin. My pulse speeds, and I glance from left to right, searching for an escape route, but there are wardens on every corner now, and running will only make me look suspicious.
Then again, suspicious might be an improvement on turned in by a witness.
Although, when my attention returns to Nuri, she doesn’t appear angry, or terrified, or any of the things I’d expect her to be. She merely assesses me, gaze lingering anywhere my skin is exposed, like she’s checking how much magic I have.
‘I hoped I’d run into you. Here. I got your pack from the maze.’ She hands it to me. ‘Didn’t want anyone else rooting through it, in case it led back to you somehow.’
I take the bag slowly, half expecting it to be a trap that explodes on impact. ‘Why would you do that?’
Cale scoffs, as if he doesn’t understand her motivations either.
‘Well, I assumed you didn’t want to face the wardens tonight.
The only description they were given was of a blonde girl wearing pink –’ As if on cue, a whole group of girls, several of which are blonde, and all of which are wearing pink, walk past, and Nuri rolls her eyes.
She’s notably dressed in black, as though to separate herself from the festival’s colours as much as possible.
‘I figured you’d be fine, so long as you didn’t return to the scene of the . . . well.’
‘The crime?’ My voice trembles. ‘Why would you help me at all? You saw what I did.’
‘I saw you fight those wraiths off. The girl you hexed will live, and so will the others in the maze. Even those who were badly injured were healed in time. I don’t think you should be sent to the wardens after that.
’ She gives Cale, who’s still frowning, a pointed glance, before saying, ‘We’re carrying on hunting for the items we need. Why don’t you come with us?’
‘No,’ I say sharply. She might be inexplicably understanding about what she witnessed, but Cale clearly isn’t on the same page, and I don’t blame him. ‘No, I want to be alone.’
‘Daisy –’
I spin on my heels and head down the street, blinking back a fresh onslaught of tears.
There’s a guest house up ahead, a creaking sign above the door reading Rooms Available.
It’s only when I enter the small reception area that I realise I don’t have a coin to my name.
My face crumples. I’ve no fake smiles left.
Until I notice the room is empty. A row of keys hangs above the vacant desk.
Yes. A smile escapes after all, although it’s born out of relief, not joy. Luck hasn’t totally abandoned me. I’ll have to hope for a little more, before this trip is through.
Before I have second thoughts, I rush behind the counter, swipe the nearest key, and dash up the stairs. I find my room on the second floor and lock the door behind me for good measure.
The room is as bare as the one me and Astin shared two nights ago. I bite my lip. I need to stop thinking about him. I need to stop thinking at all, because every thought is a thorn digging into my skin until it’s impossible to get the barb out.
Shuddering, I reach into my pocket and pull out the item from the statue, unwrapping the paper to find a vial of liquid within.
The fluid is solid gold and smells faintly of sunlight and caramel.
I frown, debating if I dare unstopper the bottle.
If Ozias supplied the king with this, it must be fairly harmless.
It certainly smells harmless. Nice, even, which is a strange thing to say about an item supposedly made by a Souleater.
It gives me the same unexplainable feeling as the lust powder. Like it can’t be all bad. Like maybe there was a shade of grey to the stolen emotions.
I pull the cork free and take a deeper sniff. If I need it to open the temple, I can’t risk drinking any – probably best, given it doesn’t come with a label – but maybe I can sense what it does.
As I inhale, warmth floods my senses. It doesn’t just smell like sunlight, it’s almost like it is sunlight, and I’m bathing in it, drenched in golden rays.
Suddenly, nothing seems impossible. My cheeks plump as I beam at the bottle.
Putting the stopper back in place is as challenging as resisting the lust powder, because I want to breathe the scent in forever.
Once it’s contained, some of my euphoria dims. I jiggle the vial, watching the golden fluid swirl against the sides, wishing I understood its purpose. How Ozias made it.
Something about it makes my great-great-granduncle’s diaries seem less delusional, like maybe it is possible he somehow channelled Gregory’s joy and excitement. That Ozias was capable of doing it too, and used the magic in those emotions to make potions like this one.
I know it should be impossible. I know nobody would ever feel those things with a Souleater nearby.
But I need to believe it could be true, if only for tonight.
I need Souleaters to be more than these things that thrive on darkness.
But when I set the potion aside and strip off my wet clothes to stand in front of the mirror, my hope fades.
A dark thread of magic spirals along my stomach, and a choked cry escapes my throat.
Ozias may have been able to make golden potions, but I can’t.
There’s no goodness to be found in the magic I stole tonight.
I pinch my skin, as though if I fold and squeeze enough, I can make it disappear. It doesn’t. If anything, it writhes harder, determined to remind me of the power brewing inside me.
Determined to provide the proof that I’m as terrible as Astin believes.