Two Dark Reigns (Three Dark Crowns #3)(105)

“I don’t know,” she says as they hurry toward the castle. “But somehow, I get the feeling that I could have brought Braddock.”

When they reach the castle, they are allowed inside without escort, and the ball of worry that has hovered in Arsinoe’s stomach since leaving the cave grows heavier. When she hears the cries and shouting, it goes cold.

“What is that?” she asks, and takes the stairs by two. She finds Emilia and Mathilde in a room on one of the upper floors, pacing before a closed door. Camden is standing up against the wood, mewling miserably.

“Emilia? What’s going on? What’s wrong with Camden?” Arsinoe bounds inside, and Emilia thrusts a finger into her chest. But before she can utter anything aside from a growl, Mathilde drags her off. “Mathilde, who’s in there?”

“Jules is in there.”

“Why—”

“The legion curse has come unbound. Madrigal is dead. Killed by Katharine. And Jules . . .” She stops and lets Arsinoe listen to the sounds coming from behind the door. Screams. Guttural bellows. The impact of objects striking the walls hard enough to rattle them. And the terrible, terrible sound of fingernails dragging against the stone.

“You should let the cat go in with her,” Arsinoe says numbly.

“She will hurt the cat. They will hurt each other.”

That cannot be true. Slowly, Arsinoe walks toward the cougar. Jules and Camden are joined. They would never—

She shouts as Camden turns and attacks, raking claws across Arsinoe’s hand. The blood comes fast and spatters across the floor.

Billy and Mathilde drag her back, and he takes out a handkerchief and presses it to the cuts.

Arsinoe stars at the cat in disbelief as Camden hisses and spits.

“What’s wrong with her?” Billy asks.

“The curse. It is affecting her, too.”

“You, poisoner,” Emilia snaps. “You must calm them.”

“How?”

“There must be some tonic, some sedative. You must make it.”

“I’m not that kind of a poisoner,” Arsinoe says, but even as the words leave her mouth, her mind returns to the pages of the book of poisons she borrowed from Luke’s shop.

“You must be of some use!” Emilia shouts.

Billy steps between them. “You quiet down. If there’s anything Arsinoe can do, she’ll do it. But she doesn’t need your barking and threats. Where’s Mirabella?”

Emilia bares her teeth. She could skewer Billy like a cube of goat meat, but he does not waver. “Probably wandering the streets, basking in the adoration of the people. She showed herself during the attack. The queens’ secret is out. So you may as well lose that ridiculous scarf. Not that it was doing much anyway.”

Arsinoe turns to Mathilde. “Are there still healer’s stores here in the castle?”

“No. But there is a shop in the marketplace. I will take you.”

The shop is not far. Mathilde takes Arsinoe and Billy to it and gently moves the old proprietor to the side of the counter. Both she and Arsinoe frown when he bows.

“Old habits,” Arsinoe mutters, and then she gets to work, gathering bowls and ingredients with her uninjured hand, her mind focused and relaxed, so confident in the movements that it is almost like watching someone else navigate her body.

“Do you know what you’re doing?” Billy whispers.

Arsinoe shrugs. “Seem to.” She opens a jar and sniffs. Elder flower. Not what she needs, but it does remind her to set Billy aside near the shopkeep. Most of the stock will be for healing, but some jars are bound to contain true poisons.

She pauses a moment and chews a fingernail, thinking of how best to administer the sedative. A salve perhaps? Something to rub into the skin? Though who was to say she would be able to get close enough to do the rubbing. Something to load into a dart, then? Or to coat the edge of a blade?

“No,” she murmurs. No matter what condition Jules is in, the thought of shooting her or cutting her makes Arsinoe sick to her stomach.

“Down the hatch it is,” she says, and begins. She grabs bundles of pale skullcap and strips the petals. Grinds root of valerian into a paste. Pushes the whole mess through a sieve with oil made from betel nut. At the last moment, she squeezes her fist, letting several thick droplets of blood fall from Camden’s scratches into the oil. “I need to thin it out with liquor.”

“A sedation?” The shopkeep nods and fetches a bottle down from a shelf. “Try this and a little sugar. Helps it go down.”

She uncorks the bottle and sniffs. It smells like Grandma Cait’s terrible anise cookies.

“That’ll do.” She pours it into the bowl and adds sugar, then transfers the mixture into a bottle and caps it. “Are you a poisoner, shopkeep?”

“No, my queen. I’m of no particular gift. Where did you learn the craft, if I may ask? Not many poisoners down in Wolf Spring.”

“I learned it nowhere, I guess.”

“So it’s true you are a poisoner, then. There was rumor after the Ascension that you had been a poisoner in naturalist garb.” He nods knowingly. “Amongst the healers, we hoped it was so. That maybe there had risen a poisoner somewhere who could be something other than wicked and corrupt.”

“I’m still no queen.” Arsinoe tucks the bottle into her sleeve. “But I thank you for the use of your shop.”