Page 71 of A City of Emeralds and Envy
Dorothy nods. “In a section for magical supplies. The place had been sacked, mostly, but these must have escaped notice. I only figured out what they were because the North Witch spoke of them in her journal.”
Riordan plucks a marble from the boxes and gulps it down. I follow his example, then Jasper, then Caer.
After we’ve each swallowed one, Dorothy explains, “These orbs are a counter-scrying measure. Each royal sibling took these and gave some to their closest servants and guards as well, to prevent them from being spied upon. These orbs will keep West—I mean, the West Witch—from being able to see us.”
“So our attack on him will be a surprise,” says Jasper.
“Well…” Dorothy bites her lip. “Not exactly. You see, I would never have found the books without help. The palace and its library are much too enormous. And to get the help, I had to trade information.”
Riordan’s fists tighten. He glares down at his sister with an expression of scorn and betrayal. “You told the Witch our plans.”
“He already knew we were headed his way—he just didn’t knowwhy,” she protests. “I told him we were after the scrying stone—but apparently you can’t use a witch’s scrying stone without killing the witch first… so he figured out the rest. He knows we’re coming to kill him.”
“So he’s expecting this.” My heart sinks. “Which means we have no chance.”
“Wedohave a chance,” Dorothy says, “if you’ll let me explain—”
But I’m furious. Angrier than I’ve been in a long time. “Did you fuck him?”
Dorothy stares at me. “Alice, I—”
“Did. You. Fuck. Him?”
“That has nothing to do with—”
“It haseverythingto do with this. You told him about our bargain with the Wizard—”
“He’d have found out anyway through his scrying stone,” she cuts in. “You’re lucky I found those orbs to block his view of us, or—”
“So I should be grateful to you? I should praise you for sleeping with the enemy and telling him our plans? Grateful that you’ve risked Caer and Riordan’s future? You betrayed us!”
“I had to trade something!” Dorothy shouts back. The ground begins to tremble, and the water of the pond shivers, startling the fiery insects into a flaming cloud of frantic wings. “What else did I have except secrets—and myself?” At my frown, she shakes her head impatiently. “No, it wasn’t like that. He didn’t force me into anything. I did it of my own free will.”
Even though I suspected it, the revelation strikes me hard. I teased her about the Witch a little, sympathized with her attraction to him—but I thought she couldn’t be too serious about it, given that he has sworn to murder her.
But now her attraction to the Witch stands between me and my happiness.
“You know we have to kill him,” I say tersely. “It will happen, even if I have to slit his throat myself.”
“Alice, I know.” She’s breathing hard, looking more emotional than I’ve ever seen her. “That’s why I brought something else along. I found the vault after he left, and I don’t believe he saw me take it… he was distressed, and distracted. Too distracted to spy on me again for a while, I think. And he can’t see us now, so…” She reaches into the bag again and pulls out a cloth-wrapped object. “After I found the orbs, I saw this among the bits and bobs left in the vault.”
When she unwraps it, the light of the pond insects flashes on faceted glass.
“Most of the bottles in the case were broken,” Dorothy says. “I almost missed seeing this one. But once I read what it could do, I thought it might prove useful.” She passes the glass bottle to Riordan, who inspects the label pasted to the back.
“It’s water from the Well of Undoing,” he says quietly. “Douse someone with it, and you remove all their powers. There’s enough here to weaken a Fae for a single hour.”
“The Well of Undoing is near my village,” says Jasper. “They use its waters to mix the ink for our tattoos and spells. It allows Fae to be marked with tattoos that never heal. With it, they can weaken each sacrifice they make to the crows. They made me drink it before they tied me to the stake.”
“Fuck,” breathes Caer.
“I’m well-acquainted with this water, too.” Riordan’s tone darkens, and he touches one of the gashes in his face. “My father had a small supply of it. He said it was rare as sun’s-blood, that the original source was long-lost. Until my stay in the Village of Crows, I had no idea the Well was located on this Isle.”
“It’s in the cornfields,” Jasper adds. “It requires a sacrifice for every bucketful or two they manage to retrieve, so yes—it’s rare.”
“Can we dump a whole bucket of it on the Green Wizard?” Caer puts in. He’s still lying in the grass, his tail curling lazily, his arms crossed behind his head.
“The water wouldn’t work on a god-star,” Riordan says.
