Page 66 of The Exile's Curse

He looked disappointed, though he should be relieved. So he was being protective. Which only confused her. "Perhaps we can shed some light as we meet with others from the house."

"You do think House Elannon are involved in this," she said.

"I don’t know what to think. But I have learned to look for the most obvious answer first. Rule that out before proceeding to more complicated theories.” He shook his head, as though trying to decide something, then came to a stop. “Regardless, that took less time than I expected. So you should take some time for yourself. I don't need you for the rest of the morning."

Chloe left Lucien near the dining room, trying to ignore the fact that his dismissal had stung, and returned to her room, intending to read or maybe even snatch a nap. There would be another ball that evening, and a chance to catch an extra hour’s sleep—or just some time alone—was an unexpected luxury. But she'd barely settled into a chair with one of her novels when Allita arrived.

"A message from the Lady Irina, Lieutenant," she said, handing an envelope to Chloe. "She asked me to wait to show you the way if you accept."

Chloe opened the note, curiosity warring with irritation at losing her free time. Another invitation. Just not one to yet another wedding ceremony. Instead, Irina was offering a tour of the palace's stillrooms. As tempting as the thought of two hours alone was, curiosity about how the Andalyssians used herbs and other medicinal elements with their magic won. She followed Allita into one of the servants’ passages and then down quite a few flights of stairs, trying to ignore the curious looks of the servants they passed.

The games of politics and pageantry played out in the grander parts of the palace were where most people focused, but Chloe had always found the working parts of such places more interesting. As a child, she'd wandered the halls of the Academe, making friends with the cooks, the cleaning staff, the gardeners, and the Master of Ravens, of course. Far more interesting places for a child than libraries and classrooms.

Her fascination with those had grown, too, over the years, but her interest in how grand buildings were run had stood her in good stead when she'd taken over running the Matin household when her mother's illness had been at its worst, and when it came to managing the modest house she and Charl shared.

They'd only had a cook and a few servants, but it still took work to keep such a small household running. Her experience had come in useful again when she'd first won her job with Ginevra and then taken over the store entirely. She'd slanted the business slightly more to magical supplies, but supplies for earth witches, her primary customers, still leaned heavily toward the healing arts. She'd spent plenty of time with mostly herbs and other plants and ingredients to keep her company on long nights when she couldn't sleep or settle to reading.

When Allita opened a sturdy wooden door at the far end of a cool stone corridor and green-scented steam-tinged air wafted out, her heart twinged with sudden nostalgia. She had missed this. Herbcraft was as close to using her power as she’d been permitted in Kingswell. Maybe it was part of what she had been missing back in Lumia. But she'd chosen the corps.

But still, her earth magic sparked as she stepped into the long high-ceilinged room. Four long wooden tables—plain well-scrubbed wood—marched in a line down the center of the room. Rows of metal racks and wood shelves filled with neatly labeled jars and boxes lined the walls, along with several deep marble basins and counters and two small stoves. Empty containers nestled on shelves beneath the tables and racks of drying herbs hung from wood racks above them. Though Chloe suspected there would be other drying rooms somewhere. This room was too cool and the air too damp from whatever was bubbling on the stove to be truly useful to dry herbs, and there were other ingredients that didn't like damp. There'd be a cool room, too. Though warmth was probably the harder thing to supply than cold in Andalyssia.

Irina stood at the second table, a practical dark gray linen apron tied over an equally sensible-looking dark blue gown. Katiya stood opposite her in a similar outfit.

Neither of them noticed Chloe, intent as they were on a complicated-looking setup of glass tubes and beakers connected to a hissing copper boiler. Some sort of distillation. Those were tricky things. She hung back by the door, not wanting to interrupt and potentially destroy hours or days of work. She was surprised to see Katiya. With only two days before the wedding, she would have expected the soon-to-be queen's days to be scheduled from dawn to dusk. But perhaps she had had an unexpected break in her schedule, too.

The sisters worked well together, obviously used to the task. But Irina took the lead. She mixed and sniffed and managed the brazier under the copper boiler with a confidence that reminded Chloe of Ginevra. Which suggested she had been underplaying her interests in the healing arts somewhat during their previous conversation.

Eventually Irina noticed her. "Chloe. You're here." She gestured with her free hand. "We'll be done shortly. Then I’ll give you the tour."

"Don't rush. I'll just watch."

"Or come and help," Irina said. "You can assist Katya while I fetch more bottles."

Chloe didn't need a second invitation. She joined the sisters. Katiya bent down and pulled another apron from beneath the table and passed it over. As Chloe slipped it on and tied it around her waist, Irina peered at the pale yellow liquid beginning to drip into the second to last of a series of beakers.

"What are you making?" Chloe asked. She didn't recognize the precise shade of yellow, and the smell wasn't distinctive enough for her to identify.

"Sunwort and arnica," Irina said. "Good for bruises and aches. We distill it, then make it into a salve. Though small amounts can be taken in tea or water for a headache. The kind that makes people sick with light or noise."

"Migraine," Chloe said. "Yes. I've not heard of sunwort though. The Anglions have something called redwort, but it's a stimulant. The Red Guard use it when they need to stay awake in battle." And others used it to ward off sleep as well. Though it only worked for a few days, and the crash that followed was swift, resulting in sleep that lasted as long as the waking period. Which limited its usefulness.

Katiya nodded. "That one is from the same family of plants. But it doesn't thrive in the mountains, so we don't grow it here. There's firewort, too. Which is rarer still."

"We don't mess with that one," Irina said. "Or if we did, Royve Ava would be supervising—she's the head healer here. The seers use firewort sometimes to aid their visions, but get the distillation or the dosage wrong and that will be the last vision you ever have." She adjusted the burner carefully.

"Poison?" Chloe asked. The Ashmeister Elannon had used poison against the empress. Not such a common weapon in Illvya—or Anglion—but not unheard of.

"Many things are poisons if used the wrong way," Katiya said.

Irina shrugged, grinning. "Poisons used to be something of a pastime here," she said. "Our ancestors had too much time on their hands during the long dark winters, or maybe just too much time in close quarters. Stabbing someone is not very subtle when you can't run away afterward. Poison is sneakier. But firewort was never a common one. It is deadly in small doses, and it is accessible because the seers use it, but it tends to tint things red. Harder to hide than some of the other common poisons. But these days we're very civilized." She glanced at her sister. "It's really only the king and his family who still have food tasters."

"And those are for show," Katiya said firmly. "Don't worry about me. No one's used poison that we know of since—" She broke off, biting her lip.

The Ashmeister, presumably. Chloe decided to leave that subject alone. "Well, you seem good at this, Irina. Are you sure you—"

"I have to get the bottles," Irina said suddenly. She pointed at a valve on the boiler. "If the drip rate increases, turn this down slightly." She didn't wait for either of them to reply, just bustled off.

"Did I say something wrong?" Chloe asked as Irina vanished through a door at the far end of the room.

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