Page 10 of Taken By the Shadow Prince

I studied anatomy, but those classes didn’t exactly cover the make-up of demon witches. I’d thought, briefly, that would make it easier. I’d know exactly what differed from ordinary witch blood.

Butallof it is different. It would seem they take after demons foremost, that their whole makeup is genetically different.

I blow out a breath that I can’t quite hear and pour the thick liquid into one of the many jars I brought with me, figuring there was no harm in saving it for later. I’ll probably need it.

Isolating the blood itself is a relatively long process. Relative to most potions and powders that I make, anyway. It takes twelve hours all on its own for the blood to finish separating, andthenI have to make the actual tracking potion with it. That, of course, is the simple part, though it takes a few hours for it to finish, too.

It’s a long process, this elixir. Which is part of why it’s so frustrating that I haven’t been able to make it correctly—each batch takes too much time. Time that I don’t have.

I force myself to take a deep breath and rub my fingers with dandelion, then set to work on creating the mixture with the last of Ender’s blood. To isolate components of it, I have to use a whole other concoction that I make—something that I learned to do a while ago, even if it, too, takes a while to make. At least I made a large batch of it a while ago and haven’t had to wait for the three days it takes to cure.

This is my last shot.

I can’t fail.

I won’t.

?I do.

Ihave, I realize, as I glare at the stupid rock with the stupid symbols that I’ve painted that stupid tracking spell into with the last of Ender’s blood.

I’ve failed.

The elixir isn’t working—not like it should. I’ve done all the wrong things. I can feel it tugging me, can almostseethat intangible cord that leads me toward its target.

But its target is Ender. I know this because there is only one cord, not multiple, and it’s trying to yank me toward the castle. Where she is.

Leaves crunch behind me, and I quickly swipe the whirls of symbols, smearing them into the rock before turning.

Kelsa smiles and says, “We were wondering where you went. The guys finished cooking that pheasant if you’re interested.”

I shake my head. “I’m not.” I wasn’t hungry at all, actually. Not after proving what a colossal fucking failure I am. No, my appetite is... lacking, currently. I frown at Kelsa, then ask, “How’d you know where I was?”

She shrugs and leans her shoulder against a tree. “I watched you disappear into the woods, and you did a shit job of covering your tracks, so it was pretty easy to figure out where you’d gone.” Kelsa cracks a grin. “Why? Are you hiding something, Mavey?”

Yes. Yes, I am most certainly hiding something. “If I was,” I answer lightly, “I wouldn’t say.”

Kelsa laughs. “Smart girl.” That laughter quickly fades, though, and soon she’s frowning at me. Looking at me like she sees something inside of my skin. “Are you okay? You’ve been a little distant lately.”

I try not to be defensive—but I don’t like... this. Situations in which it feels like I am exposed, where I feel smaller than I already am. So my tongue tries to say things I don’t mean. Things likeyou don’t even know me, you have no right to question me in such a way. I’d prefer you keep such musings to yourself. Nothing evil, really, but... it would cut her. Kelsa gives her heart with each word she speaks, and to slap it away with such brash comments... I’d regret it, I’m sure. I swallow those remarks down, think of something softer, easier. “Fine,” I say, lifting my chin. “Just busy.”

She nods, understanding—or trying to, anyway. Enough, I think. She must understand enough. This is probably the busiest she’s been in a long while, since she spent most of her life in Vorella, where I doubt there was much to do. I wonder if this is overwhelming for her, or if it’s just a relief, to have finally left, even if it is to risk her life each day and to ask other witches to risk theirs.

“I’m guessing it’s a lot of responsibility,” she says. “If you ever want to talk about it, let me know.”

She jerks her head over her shoulder and stands up straight. “For now, I’ll leave you alone. I know talking—or socializing in general, I guess—isn’t really your thing. But, well, like I said. Anytime you mightwantto talk, I’ll be here.” She gives me a wink, as if we’re in on this together, then ducks her head in farewell.

Kelsa turns and walks away. She doesn’t look back, like I expect her to. Privacy, I realize. She’s trying to give me privacy. Maybe she thinks I came here to have an emotional breakdown, to cry my little weary heart out.

I feel like I should be, after doing such a spectacular job at fuck-all, apparently. But I don’t have time to cry, especially now that I’ve got another plan to weave together. Because while this might have been the most acceptable way to find the demon witches, the best of all my options, it certainly isn’t myonlyoption.

No, I won’t simply give up now.

I’ll just...pray that my desperation doesn’t come back to bite me in the ass.

Though I don’t think praying will do me much good.

Chapter 7

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