Page 11 of Taken By the Shadow Prince

Mavey

specialty tonic

After using all of Ender’s blood and still not having a working spell, I go to bed angry.

And promptly wake up what I guess to be an hour later with an idea. A foolish one, perhaps, but...there is a good chance that it would work, and that’s enough for me.

I’ve been working on brewing a thick, tar-like potion ever since. And when I’ve finally got it down to the right consistency, when I check to be sure that it has the right properties, I inhale some wild garlic until my eyes water enough for me to collect some tears inside of the bottle. This will bind the brew to me so that no one else can use it, and no one else can remove it. If I were to use it to mark symbols onto my body—which would be foolish, but still—then only I would be able to remove those symbols.

And if I put those symbols on someone or something else, then that rule would still apply. They would remain until I removed or ruined them. Though, really, I’ve made it strong enough that I really don’thaveto resort to creating symbols out of the potion. Even a smear on the palm of someone’s hand would be enough.

I think, anyway.

I’ve got to try it out on someone first to be sure—especially before I put the thing into action, lest I get myself killed for not being careful enough.

I stand up from where I’ve set up at a boulder. We’re only a few hours away from the next sanctuary, but I had begun to hear grumbles from stomachs and from people’s mouths, so I called for a two-hour break.

Our second safe haven had been unsure of whether or not they would fight and had requested time to think it over. Very well, then. We had given them maps, just like the first sanctuary. It’s up to them whether or not they use it, whether they wish to be the ones that win their freedom back or the ones that let other people fight for them.

I stride over to a group of soldiers who chew on what looks to be rabbit meat, if the discarded and utterly mangled pelt is any sign. Someone ought to show these men how to properly skin an animal—but it won’t be me. I doubt they’d make very good listeners, and I’d probably throttle them before we’d even have the chance to start.

They all look up at me as I approach. But I gesture only to Benji. “Are you busy?”

“Just eating,” he says. “Why?”

I look from the bread in his hands to the oily smear around his mouth—clearly, he’s just about finished with his meal, if he’s already eaten his meat and is just gnawing on some bread now. “When you’re finished, I’d like for you to help me with something.”

He stands. “I’ll help you now.”

“You can finish your bread.”

He shrugs and shoves what’s left of the chunk into his rucksack. “I’m good. Let’s go.”

I nod and lead him away.

“What are we doing?” he asks.

“I made a potion. I’d like for you to test it for me.”

He swallows heavily. “Is it like that one you toss at us every morning? Because, I mean, I’ll do it, but I’d really rather not be shocked again—”

“—No, it’s not like that. It doesn’t hurt.”

“Whatdoesit do?”

I hesitate to tell him, but since he’s testing it for me, he’ll know what it does in a moment, anyway. “It’ll lock you in place, so you can’t move. And it’ll take away your magic, so you can’t use it.”

“But—it’ll go away, right?”

“Yes.”

Benji nods, though I can tell he’s nervous. Still willing, though. I try to think of something to say to soothe him, but I’m not so sure how well it works when all I come up with is softly muttering, “You’ll be fine.”

Comforting indeed.

“What do I need to do?” He asks when we make it to my horse.

I pick up the tonic and rub dandelion on my finger, like before. Then I dip it into the tar-like substance and say, “Hold your hand out.”

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