Page 54 of Heir of Autumn
I nodded. “The Wispwood is more than happy to continue supplying the Court of Autumn as best as we can. I think it’s very lucky that you haven’t encountered a more esoteric sort of Withering victim.”
For the first time since I met him, Dulcifer’s face went serious. “Yes. Most distressing. Prince Sylvain has informed me of how the plague has infected a human. I shudder to think of what might happen should the Withering claim one of our own. So far it has only been flora and fauna, and I pray that it remains the extent of it.”
“The only good the Withering has brought is this new friendship between Earth and the Verdance. I’m grateful for your kind welcome, Dulcifer.” I clapped him on the shoulder. “And I’m thrilled to know that the waters we’ve brought from the Wispwell are in such good hands. I couldn’t think of a safer place in the palace for — Satchel! Don’t drink that!”
He froze, a test tube already lifted halfway up in the air, slightly tilted. “I wasn’t gonna,” he said, completely caught in the act.
Sylvain coughed into his fist. I thought I heard the word “Naughty,” reminding me yet again that my familiar was beginning to absorb my personality. I glowered at them both, standing over Satchel with my hands on my hips until he grudgingly, sulkily returned the sweet-smelling test tube to its rack.
“Charming,” Dulcifer said, “and quite inoffensive, believe me. If any of the palace pixies had snuck in here, they might have done worse than attempting to sample our concoctions. Why, I might even expect explosions.”
A most unexpected explosion boomed outside, not far from the alchemy lab. Satchel zipped straight toward me, hiding behind my collar. Some of Dulcifer’s alchemists ran from the laboratory, scattering like nervous pigeons. The rest of us hit the deck.
“What was that?” Sylvain hissed, peering over the top of a table. “An attack from another court?”
I swallowed my fear, rising from the floor on wobbly knees. “Well, we sure as hell won’t find out if we linger. Come on. We have to check it out. The palace could be in danger.”
Satchel muttered something indistinct in protest. But in no time at all he’d fluttered out to hover beside me, the little lump in his throat bobbing as he, too, gulped down his fear. He really was picking up my traits, even my admittedly very rare bursts of bravery.
Dulcifer and I flanked Sylvain as we stepped cautiously out of the laboratory. My stomach dropped. A part of the high ceiling out in the corridor had caved in. One of the columns had collapsed, sliced cleanly in half. I dreaded to think what could have done it, but kept my suspicions to myself.
“An attack,” Sylvain said, his voice flat and low. “But perhaps not one from another court.”
Then he was thinking the same thing.
Some members of the palace staff had been caught in the rubble, guards, servants, and courtiers alike fighting to pick each other out of the wreckage. Blood. Blood and dust. This wasn’t an accident. I could feel it in my bones.
Dulcifer shook his head, horrified. “I must gather supplies from the laboratory. Our people require healing, and quickly.”
He dashed off, footsteps echoing down the corridor, leaving nothing but the groans of the injured fae.
“Locke,” Sylvain growled. “We have to find who did this. We must make them pay.”
“And we will,” I said, the ball of dread in my stomach growing ever larger. I didn’t want to be right. For once, the last thing I wanted was to be right.
We found Yvette on the ground, one of the court alchemists at her side. Sylvain rushed toward her, knees skidding against the floor as he approached, scrabbling for her hand.
“Yvette?” he said, voice shaking, taking her hand in both of his. “Yvette, are you all right?”
Maybe I’d become too accustomed to seeing shades of red and brown all throughout the Amber Pavilion. I should have seen all the red underneath her. I wasn’t sure how I’d missed the pool of blood.
“I’m fine,” Yvette said, rasping, her throat hoarse. “Or I’ll be fine, anyway. The good doctor here will assist me, won’t you?”
Though I’d only seen this particular alchemist once before, I could definitely remember that his skin wasn’t supposed to be this sallow. Sweat lined his forehead, his cheeks pale as he looked from Yvette to Sylvain.
“Please,” Sylvain said to him, voice still trembling. My heart ached. “Please help her.”
The alchemist nodded, though I couldn’t detect any trace of confidence in his expression. I stepped forward, knowing I had nothing to give, wishing I had a healing spell for the princess. Yvette’s threat had been made in the heat of the moment, something she’d only said out of love for her only brother.
“You have to be careful,” Yvette said. “You have to stay safe. Lochlann? You must use your magic. Cloak my brother in your essence. Don’t let this happen to him.”
I knelt next to Sylvain, trying not to flinch when I saw the extent of the wound in Yvette’s belly. Gods, whatever had done this had cut through armor. Who could be so strong and brazen enough to attack one of the queen’s own children?
“Everything in my power,” I promised her. “Everything and more. But who did this to you, Yvette?”
The alchemist brought a potion to her lips with shaking hands. Yvette could only answer by pointing past Sylvain’s shoulder. The two of us turned as one. My blood ran cold. Sylvain’s voice faltered as he uttered a single word.
“Mother?”
