Protect the Prince (Crown of Shards #2)(91)

I grimaced. “Just about the last place that I want to go.”

*

Twenty minutes later, I wrapped my hand around a doorknob, once again using my immunity to snuff out all the magic on the lock.

Paloma shifted on her feet and glanced up and down the hallway. “Visiting the dungeon was one thing, but are you sure about this? Because if we get caught here . . .”

“Then bad things will happen to us. Believe me, I know.” I gripped the knob a little tighter and sent even more of my immunity blasting into the lock. “I’m going as fast as I can—”

The last of the magic fizzled out in a shower of bright green sparks, but this person was cautious and had smartly locked the actual door itself instead of relying only on their power. So I reached up, plucked a pin out of my hair, and slid it into the lock. It took me only a few seconds to jimmy it open.

“Where did you learn how to do that?” Paloma asked.

I slid the pin back into my hair. “When I was a kid, I spent hours exploring Seven Spire. The most interesting books and swords and treasures were always behind locked doors or stuffed away in display cases. It was always easier and quicker to open them myself, rather than asking someone for a key. Now come on.”

We slipped through to the other side, and I shut and locked the door behind us.

It was almost midnight, and most of the lights in the hallways had been turned down low for the night. But not in here. Fluorestones blazed in the ceiling, and the area was as brightly lit as Alvis’s jewelry workshop. Not only did the fluorestones provide illumination, but many of them let off heat as well, all the better to nurture the area’s silent inhabitants.

Plants.

Paloma and I stood in an enormous greenhouse. Flowers, trees, and vines of all shapes and sizes were nestled in brightly colored clay pots on tables that marched down the center of the room. More tables covered with glass tubes, beakers, and jars were pushed up against one wall, while still more tables boasted gloves, shears, and other gardening equipment. A writing desk bristling with pens, papers, and books took up one corner.

The ceiling was made of glass, as was the far wall, and I spotted a small beehive on the balcony outside. And just like all the other rooms at Glitnir, gold, silver, and bronze embellished many of the furnishings, along with gleaming gemstones.

Paloma let out a low, appreciative whistle. “I knew Helene Blume was rich, but I didn’t know she was this rich. Are you sure that she’s the traitor?”

That was my growing suspicion. After all, Helene was one of the wealthiest and most influential nobles, so she could get an audience with Heinrich any time she wanted. Plus, she was friends with Dahlia, which gave her even more access to the king, and she had also been in the dungeon when the weather magier had been brought in. And most important of all, Helene was a powerful plant magier. Poisoning the king and the magier would be child’s play for someone with her skills, smarts, and magic.

“That’s what we’re here to find out,” I said.

I moved over to one of the tables covered with glass tubes and beakers, which were filled with creams, lotions, and liquids. Everything was neatly labeled and stacked in wooden racks and on small shelves.

Paloma followed me. “What is all this stuff?”

“Helene and her family are known for their beauty products. The Blumes make their money selling beauty creams, glamours, and more, both here in Andvari and abroad.”

Paloma picked up an open jar filled with a thick pale yellow cream and sniffed it. “Well, at least it smells good.”

She handed the jar to me, and I also sniffed it. The familiar scent of honey mixed with lemons tickled my nose. I read the jar label—Honey Burn Cream.

This was the same scent and cream that I had sensed on my arm after the weather magier had burned me. Guilt flooded my stomach, but I pushed it away. Just because Helene had helped heal me then didn’t mean that she still wasn’t the traitor. I set down the jar and moved on.

Stacks of small, square papers were lined up on the table, and I flipped through them. Honey, lemons, water. They were recipe cards for Helene’s creams, lotions, and more. But the ingredients were all ordinary things, so I set the cards back down where I had found them.

There was nothing unusual on the rest of the tables along the wall, so I went over to the plants that took up the center of the greenhouse.

Many of them were common flowers—roses, lilies, mums, and the like—along with more exotic blooms, like ice violets and snow pansies. Paloma dawdled along behind me, staring at first one flower, then another.

I moved into the next section, which featured dill weed, mint, and a few other herbs I recognized from cooking with Isobel in the Seven Spire kitchen. The thought of the cook master brought a smile to my face, but I wasn’t here to reminisce, so I hurried on to the third and final section in the back.

This was where things finally got interesting. These plants, flowers, trees, and vines were all strange shapes, with unusual blooms in odd patterns, sizes, and colors. I didn’t recognize any of them. If anything in here was poisonous, then I was betting it was one of these plants.

All the pots were neatly labeled, but the names told me nothing, so I did the only thing I could—I bent down and buried my nose in first one plant, then another, sniffing all the blossoms to see what aromas, if any, they had.

“What are you doing?” Paloma asked.