Part of Your World (Twisted Tales)(69)

Artemisia. Okay, that was like wormwood, what they made absinthe out of. His grandmother had always liked their pretty woolly silver leaves.

Belladonna. Clary sage, henbane. Old-fashioned herbs.

Mandrake.

He recognized the last because a sailor had once shown him a particularly fine specimen of the root; it looked like a little person. “There’s folks in Bretland will pay a king’s ransom for this. I just have to tell them it screamed when the farmer pulled it out of the soil.”

Eric shook his head in wonder. Even to someone more skilled in the arts of the sea and music than farming, it was obvious Vanessa was trying her hand at a witch’s garden.

Her magic didn’t work on land. So she was trying to learn new magic. Land magic.

Was that…a thing?

Was witchcraft real?

If it was, could Vanessa harness its powers? Would she be able to summon undead armies to do her bidding, call down storms and plagues on countries they were at war with?

Would she be able to cast new charms? Would Eric once again find himself foggy and forgetting, hypnotized and half-awake? Would he do everything his terrible wife said?

He swallowed, trying to control the panic that was coming on.

Boneset. Some said it was good for aches and pains. Modern doctors disagreed.

Wolfsbane.

Foxglove. A pretty flower, and dangerous to animals. It was also known as digitalis and contained a substance that destroyed the heart—literally. Eric remembered his father telling him not to let Max anywhere near it if they found some in the woods.

Whether or not witchcraft was real, poison certainly was.

No one really believed the Ibrian had died of natural causes. And here, more or less, was the proof: holes in the ground where some of the flowers had been pulled out. Used. The plant could be put into anything: tea, soup, tobacco mix for a pipe…Vanessa could make good on her threat at any time. Grimsby would keel over from a heart attack and no one would suspect anything—it would be sad, but an entirely natural, predictable death.

Nothing Eric could ever do would convince the butler to abandon his post, short of tying him up and putting him on a boat to the lands in the west against his will. Eric ran his hands through his hair, frustrated and at wit’s end.

A large bird landed on a statue behind him, casting a cold black shadow. The prince turned, fully expecting a crow or raven, as befitted the mood of the garden.

But it was a seagull. With something stringy and brown in its mouth.

“Hello,” Eric said politely. “Did Ariel send you?”

The bird answered by dropping the thing it held onto the ground. It squawked.

“Thank you…?” He picked up the leather cord; it was the one Ariel wore around her wrist. Now, letting it flow through his fingers, he realized it was the strap from the necklace that Vanessa used to wear, the one with the nautilus on it.

(Now the princess wore a gold chain that dipped down under her bodice. He had no idea what sort of pendant was on it—probably something unsettling and hideous.)

A white scroll was tied to one end of the strap; it unfurled of its own accord into his hand. On it, sketched in gold, was a carriage with a half-octopus, half-woman thing emerging through the door. There was also a drawing of a crown with what looked like a slash or a tear through it.

Eric swore when he realized what it meant. “It was a trap. The king wasn’t even there!” The little scroll faded into glitter, disappearing entirely even as he tried to grasp at the bits.

But if Ariel had cast this pretty little spell, he realized, it meant that she had to be in the water. Which meant she was safe. Just…disappointed, and probably grieving. His heart went out to the poor queen of the merfolk. They had both been so sure their respective ordeals were almost over….

“Is it back to searching the castle again, then?” Eric asked aloud, partially to the seagull. “Well, if that’s what we have to do, that’s what we will do. Guess I’d better expand the search to the rest of the grounds, too, huh? I wish you could help. I could use another set of eyes. Ones that aren’t easily fooled by magic. I wish I had an animal friend who could watch Grimsby for me. I’m afraid Max isn’t much up to the task.”

The bird squawked again and shook its tail. Almost like it was saying, Yes, but what can you do? Then it settled down to preen itself.

Eric laughed and reached out to scratch it on its neck, like he would have Max. The bird seemed to enjoy it immensely.





I deserve this, Ariel thought as she delivered the news of her failure again and again and again. Of course the general populace was disappointed. She expected the frowns and the occasional dramatic tears.

Telling her sisters was extremely unpleasant. They wept real tears and swished their tails back and forth in dismay. And then they swam off, all but Attina, who gave her a quick hug before leaving.

The Queen’s Council was also disappointed—though not terribly surprised, and quick to talk about the future, and Ariel’s loyalty to her people, and how maybe further rescue attempts should be turned over to those who weren’t the acting queen.

“We should send an army of merfolk—with legs—up through the castle, and seize it,” the captain of the merguards suggested. Her eyes shone and her partner, a giant bluefish, nodded eagerly. “It will be like battles of old, sword against sword! We will retrieve the king triumphantly and remind humans of our might!”