“Are you saying we’ve been poisoned?” Adira whispered, her eyes wide.
“No. I’m saying you’ve been enchanted from this tea you drink. Does everyone drink it? Every night?”
She nodded, then froze. “Well, no. I don’t. I take a special tea with my tonic late at night. The vanilla counteracts the effects of the ember leaves, so I take warm cider before bed.”
“Vanilla,” I repeated, sniffing the teapot again. “Yes, I can smell that. But it’s no ordinary vanilla. It’s laced with something else.”
“Oh gods.” Adira raised a hand to her mouth. “So everyone has been taking this enchanted tea?”
“It appears so. Does your father drink it? The guards?”
“No, only my sisters. It was a favorite of Mother’s, and after her death we continued the tradition of the nightly tea time before bed. Father gives us the time to ourselves because he knows how special it is to us.” Tears glistened in her eyes. “Stars, who would do such a thing? Who would take advantage of something so precious to us?”
“Someone who knows your sisters would never abstain from drinking this tea,” I said darkly. “But our advantage is, whoever it is doesn’t know you don’t drink it.”
Adira gripped my arm, her grasp tight with fear. “I need to warn my sisters. I need to tell them to stop drinking it!” When she turned for the door, I caught her elbow.
“Whatever magic this is has been in their system for a while now. The scent is potent, Addie. It means it’s been in this room for at least six months.”
Her face paled. “Six months?”
Gravely, I nodded. “Stopping for one night isn’t going to change much. The only way is to flush it out of their system with a replication spell from me, but if we do that, whoever is behind this will be spooked, and they’ll retreat. They’ll only come back to try something else.”
“So you can replicate it, then? You can create an identical enchantment?”
I paused, sniffing the teapot again. “Maybe. It would be better if we could wait until this pot is filled with the actual tea. With the magic in front of me, then I’ll be able to craft the spell with perfect accuracy.”
“I can send for the tea now…” Adira began, then pressed her lips together. “Ah. But that would arouse suspicion as well.”
I nodded. “We need to act as if everything is normal. It’s very likely that a member of the kitchen staff is in on this, lacing your tea every night. If we send for the tea now, it’ll alert them that we suspect something.”
She nodded, her eyes glinting with determination. “Very well. You’ll join us for tea tonight. I’ll speak with Irene about our plan to use her as bait. And tonight, after everyone retires, we’ll make our move.”
I couldn’t help but smile at the steely resolve in her voice. Right now, she wasn’t wearing her princess mask—she was the resolute queen I always knew she would become.
* * *
There was no need to search the castle and pinpoint where the triplets had disappeared; we knew the source of the magic. Everywhere else had traces of what I had already scented.
While Adira sought out her sister Irene, I questioned the kitchen staff privately, one at a time, keeping my questions vague so as not to alarm them. I merely implied that we were questioning everyone in the castle to see if they noticed anything suspicious. And I kept my questions bland and generic, skirting around the tea issue completely.
The questions weren’t important. What I was really doing was scenting each individual, looking for that telltale fragrance of fae magic.
It didn’t take long to find it. After questioning the cook, one of the kitchen maids was next. I didn’t recognize her, so she must have been hired recently. But I scented the magic on her immediately.
I altered my questions, only slightly, to try to get more information from her. I asked if she was familiar with the fae courts. Her voice faltered as she replied that yes, she was. I asked if she had ever been to another fae court before.
She had. She had visited the Summer Court as a child.
With each response, she fidgeted slightly, wringing her hands together in her lap, or tucking her hair behind her ears. When I asked if she knew any fae personally, her hand lifted to her ears once more.
Then, I noticed it. A faint whisper of glamour. I hadn’t noticed it before because it was masked by the potent smell of the enchanted tea.
But this girl, this kitchen maid, was fae. And she was wearing a glamour to disguise her pointed ears.
I asked a few more harmless questions to put her at ease and then dismissed her. She fled from the room, obviously eager to leave my presence.
If I arrested her now, we would never catch who was truly behind this. Because it was clear someone planted that maid in the castle.
* * *
“What do you know about Millie, the kitchen maid?” I asked Adira just before supper. She was dressed in a lacy gown of the palest blue, which brought out the color of her eyes. The dress was cinched at the waist and lined with tiny white rosebuds that trailed the sheer fabric of her skirt.
She was divine. Far more elegant than my drab brown tunic and waistcoat.
Adira tapped her chin thoughtfully. “Not much. The cook hired her last minute because the previous maid fell ill just before the feast in honor of the Duke of Winterell’s arrival. She needed a replacement quickly, and Millie was available.”
“Do you know where she’s from?”
“No, but I’m told she’s lived in the Star Court all her life.”
I frowned at that. Either the statement was true—which meant Millie had to have come from Fenn’s court, the Court of Midnight—or it was a lie, fabricated by Millie’s carefully crafted words. I didn’t often associate with servants in Roderick Castle, so I couldn’t know for sure.
My bet was on the former. Millie didn’t seem particularly devious; if anything, my questions made her nervous and jittery. I didn’t see her as the type of fae who could manipulate her words into almost-lies to fit her needs.
“Why do you ask?” Adira peered at me curiously.
I opened her mouth to fill her in, but at that moment, Beatrice, Adira’s oldest sister, entered the hall and offered me a bright smile. “So glad you’ll be joining us for supper tonight, Marek!” She squeezed my arm affectionately before taking her seat at the table.
One by one, the other sisters entered the room: Cleo, Delilah, Eleanor, Fiona, Genevieve, and Henrietta. Each offered me a warm smile before they took their places at the table.
Irene entered last, her short blond curls bobbing slightly with her movements. Her face was paler than normal, making her freckles stand out even more on her nose and cheeks. She nodded at me, her eyes widening for the briefest of seconds before she seated herself next to Henrietta.
“Irene has agreed to our plan,” Adira whispered in my ear.
I nodded, my gaze fixed on the young princess who sat with her back straight and her chin held high. Though her face was wan, not a trace of fear shone on her expression. Like Adira, she was brave and determined.
I admired her for it. The girl was only twelve, but she had the courage of a seasoned soldier. She would be used as bait tonight to lure out whoever had abducted the triplets. It would likely be dangerous; and if it went poorly, there was every chance Irene would be taken as well.
But she was not afraid.
Supper was a somber affair. King Reginald and Fenn were still in discussions with the council, and without the triplets to fill the silences, it was eerily quiet around the table. Occasionally Cleo or Eleanor supplied some idle chatter, as they were the most talkative of the princesses. But it was clear most of our thoughts were elsewhere.
When the meal ended, Adira casually invited me to take tea with everyone else, to which I readily agreed. No one objected.
My nerves were wound tight as we made our way to the tea room. What if the magic was too complicated to replicate? What if I made a mistake and couldn’t craft the spell properly? Adira was right; I had never focused on my magic enough. If I had practiced and honed the craft, I would have felt more confident in my abilities.
We sat in the tea room, Cleo and Delilah speaking in hushed whispers on the sofa while the rest of us drank our tea in silence.
Or rather, I pretended to drink. Adira sipped on her cider as usual, occasionally meeting my gaze across the room.
One by one, the sisters bid each other goodnight and left the room until it was only Adira, Irene, and me remaining.
Irene rose from the sofa, stifling a yawn as she turned to us. “What do you need from me?”
Adira offered her a kind smile. “We need you to sleep. I can tell you’re tired. But don’t worry. We’ll be outside your room, ready to follow you should… should anything happen.”
Irene nodded and said goodnight as she shuffled out of the room. Once she was gone, I pulled an empty vial from my pocket, uncorked it, and poured my tea inside it. Then, leaving my empty cup on the table, I followed Adira into the hall. We crept down the corridor until we made it to her chambers—the only safe space for us to perform the spell.
She shut and bolted the door behind us, while I stood, rooted to the spot as I took in her room.
The last time I’d been in this room, we had both been young children, and she had been sharing the room with Beatrice. Now, it looked completely different. Instead of two four poster beds pushed against each wall, there was one large bed on one wall, with delicate white drapes and fluffy white pillows. On the opposite side of the room were floor-to-ceiling bookshelves, along with a plush armchair and a fireplace. A small table rested next to the armchair with a messy stack of books, no doubt the pile she was currently working her way through. A soft smile spread across my lips. No matter how busy she was, Adira always made time for her books.
“Here.” Adira surged forward, moving her stack of books to the floor and dragging the small table to the center of the room. She shot a glance at me, her cheeks rosy and her eyes bright with anticipation. “Is this enough room for you?”
I nodded, placing the vial of tea onto the table. Anxiety wormed its way through my chest, and my stomach was in knots. Stars, I hadn’t done this in such a long time.
“It won’t take long for Irene to fall asleep,” Adira said, wringing her hands together as she glanced at the door. “We don’t have much time.”
Sweat beaded along my brow, and my injured leg twinged, making me grimace.
Adira’s hand found my arm, and she squeezed. “You can do this, my little mango.”
I snorted, and she grinned in response. That endearing dimple appeared, and my gaze snagged on those familiar crinkles near her eyes that meant it was a true, genuine smile. The tension in my chest eased just a fraction, and I shot her a grateful look.
With a deep breath, I brought my palms together and summoned my magic. The space around us darkened, and light shone from my fingertips, casting an eerie glow on Adira’s face as she watched, transfixed. I mentally reached for the contents of the vial, spearing my magic straight through it. The vial lifted, hovering slightly in the air as my powers sifted through it, assessing it, drawing out each individual element and ingredient.
Adira gasped as several strange shapes appeared in the air, rising above the vial. There were six in total: a shimmering silver triangle, a black splotch in the shape of a twisting tree trunk, a series of four overlapping rectangles, a purple circle of runes, three interconnected golden spheres, and a crimson droplet of blood. I glanced over them, my mind instantly identifying each one with the help of my fae power.
“What—What are they?” Adira asked in a shaky voice.
“They make up a sleeping potion,” I said, trusting the magic within me. “But there’s more to it than that.” I pointed to the drop of blood. “This embeds the magic into the bloodstream so that, even if they stop drinking the tea, the enchantment still holds them until it’s flushed out of their system.”
Adira tensed, her fingers gripping the edge of the table until her knuckles turned white.
I pointed to the four overlapping rectangles. “This serves as a portal, pulling them to a new location. The four layers indicate it’s built with reinforced magic strong enough to penetrate wards.”
“By the gods,” Adira whispered, raising a hand to cover her mouth. My chest squeezed, and I knew what she was thinking: Whoever crafted this spell had certainly thought this through. And it was terrifying.
Swallowing, I pointed to the next shape, which was the interconnected golden spheres. “This one is… something I’ve never seen before.” I paused, allowing that innate instinct to take over. The side of me I rarely trusted because I didn’t use it very often.
But every bone in my body, every ounce of power within me resonated with certainty. Even though I’d never seen this element before, I knew down to my core what it was. “A memory charm. But… it’s layered with other factors. Not only does it erase a person’s memory when they are transported through the portal, but it also preserves that memory, only activating it when the subject returns.”
“So… when my sisters come back here, they don’t remember being transported somewhere,” Adira said slowly, “but every time they return to wherever they go at night, they remember?”
“Yes.” I frowned as I inspected the silver triangle. “This one masks any attempt at summoning fae magic. But why would someone include this, if your sisters are human? They wouldn’t even be able to summon magic, even if they tried.”
My gaze met Adira’s, and that same panic from earlier flared in her eyes—the terrifying realization that she could sense fae magic.
Did that mean her sisters could, too?
Were Adira and her sisters truly human? Or was there fae magic in their blood?
“Adira,” I said slowly.
She pointed to the black splotch, her finger shaking. “What’s that one?”
With a sigh, I focused on the shape she gestured to. “It dulls the mind. All perception and logic and basic survival instincts are dimmed.”
“They can’t think or fight their way out,” Adira said in a hushed voice.
I winced. “Yes.”
“And this last one?” She pointed to the purple circle of runes.
“It’s a suspension of time. Wherever your sisters are transported to, time does not pass in the same way.”
Adira’s throat bobbed as she considered this. “It could feel like years for them.”
“Or minutes,” I offered.
Adira took a deep breath, her gaze flicking across the elements of the spell. All these complicated enchantments had been included in a single dose of the vanilla tea.
Someone had gone to great, painstaking lengths to transport Adira’s sisters. But transport them where? And why?
“Can you replicate it?” Adira asked.
I nodded. “We would want to alter a few things, though.” I raised my hand and prodded the black splotch. In a flash, it vanished, leaving only five shapes. “We want our minds fully intact.” I waved away the silver triangle and the gold spheres. They, too, disappeared. “I need to be able to use my magic. And we want to make sure we remember whatever happens to us.”
“Didn’t you say it was a sleeping potion?” she asked, scanning the last remaining elements. All that was left were the droplet of blood, the purple circle of runes, and the four overlapping rectangles.
“Yes, but that’s the base of the spell,” I said. “I can’t change it, or the entire foundation of the enchantment will collapse.”
“Will we fall asleep?” Adira met my gaze, her eyes full of fear.
“Probably,” I admitted. “Or, at least, I will.” I leveled a significant look at her, and her eyes rounded.
“Oh. Oh. I didn’t take my tonic tonight.”
“Exactly.”
“How do you know it won’t affect me?”
“Didn’t your father try all kinds of magical tonics on you to get you to sleep?”
Adira nodded. “Yes. The only thing that works is ember root.”
I nodded. I knew the scent of ember root well, since I often took it for the pain in my leg. There was no sign of it in this enchantment. “Then, I think it’s safe to say this won’t affect you, either.”
“But if you fall asleep, how are we supposed to follow Irene?”
“My hope is that if we remain close to her, the enchantment will capture us, too. But it’s not a sure thing. For instance, all your other sisters have been drinking the same tea for months now, and they haven’t…” I trailed off, unable to finish. Adira’s throat bobbed, her face taking on a greenish hue as she no doubt understood what I was about to say.
They haven’t all disappeared. Yet.
I returned my focus to the last three elements of the spell. My hand remained suspended in the air as I deliberated.
“What?” Adira asked, noticing my hesitation.
My gaze flicked to hers. “It’s up to you. I’m assuming we want to remain for the same duration of time as your sisters. That could get messy if we didn’t. And we obviously want the portal as well. But… do we want this magic connected to our bloodstream?”
“What are the risks?”
I squinted, allowing my magic to encircle the droplet of blood. “I… can’t tell. All I can see is that this magic is connected by blood. Whoever is under the spell is linked to the magic permanently.”
Adira drew in a sharp breath. “That doesn’t sound good.”
“No, it doesn’t. But I’m worried if we don’t include it, there will be wards set off as soon as we arrive. Perhaps wherever we will travel to only allows those connected to this specific brand of magic to enter.”
Adira chewed on her lower lip, considering. “What would you do?”
“Addie, these are your sisters we’re talking about.”
“Yes, but you know battle strategy. You’ll be a captain someday. Suppose you have soldiers in enemy territory, and you need to get them out as discreetly as possible. What would you do?”
With my free hand, I rubbed my chin thoughtfully. “This… isn’t the same thing,” I said slowly.
“What do you mean?”
I inwardly flinched. “In battle, it’s often said that there will be casualties. If there were soldiers captured, I know for a fact Queen Sonara would have us leave them to their fates.”
Adira’s eyes widened, and even in the faint light of my magic, I could see her face paling.
“But if they were royals in need of rescue, she would order us to take any measures necessary,” I went on, “even at the expense of our own lives.”
Adira huffed a weak laugh. “Gods, your queen is a piece of work.”
My eyes closed, and I bit down the natural retort that rose up in defense of the Midnight Queen. Instead, I said, “Fenn would not agree. If it makes a difference.”
Adira rubbed her forehead. “How can you align with these people, Marek? To make that kind of decision… It sounds awful!”
I fixed a cold look on her. “You will be making these decisions someday, Addie. When you are queen.”
Her nostrils flared, and her jaw went rigid. Defiance shone in her eyes, and I sensed a rebuttal forming on her lips.
Before she could argue, I said tersely, “You’re the future queen, so I defer to you. You make the decision.”
She exhaled, the sound sharp, and said, “Leave the blood mark.”
With a nod, I swept my hand through the air, and the remaining three elements swirled together, creating a small cyclone. Wind whipped at my hair, and Adira’s blond ringlets floated around her. I lifted both my hands and pushed with my magic, combining the elements until they funneled back into the vial. In a flash, the room brightened once more, and the white light from my magic vanished. All that remained was the vial, sitting innocently on the table, the brown liquid identical to the tea the princesses had drunk earlier tonight.
A heavy silence filled the space between me and Adira. I couldn’t look at her, though I felt her gaze on me. The unspoken argument hung between us, but there was no time to spend sorting through this dissonance between us. Her sisters needed us, and if Irene had already fallen asleep, she was at risk.
I snatched the vial and stepped closer to Adira, still not meeting her gaze. “Are you ready?”
“Yes.”
I uncorked the vial. “I’ll drink first.” I took one sip, then grimaced as the bitter taste trickled down my throat. “Gods, that’s unpleasant. It’s obvious a sweetener was added to the other elements to disguise the magic.”
Adira wrinkled her nose but took the vial from me before bringing it to her lips. Her face contorted in disgust, and she coughed as she swallowed it down. After clearing her throat, she asked, “Now what?”
“Now, we find Irene and wait for the magic to kick in. If my replication was successful, we should be pulled in alongside her.”
Adira nodded stiffly. “Fine. I’ll show you the way.”
She turned and strode for the door. I watched her for a moment, something tight twisting painfully in my chest, before following her out of the room.