Page 60 of The Blood Queen

As Father returns to the other princes and their conversation, Samson and I peruse the options in the armory.

“What are these?” he asks, pointing to the glittering potion bottles.

I gesture, and they float down, closer to my hands. “Poison,” I say, swiping through several smaller ones, all with black labels. Different types for different creatures, but Red Caps are too powerful for that to be really effective. “Enchantments,” I add, plucking up a few and showing them individually. “This will confuse the drinker to the point of senselessness. This will force horrific nightmares on whoever breathes the fumes. This will make the battlefield look dark as night.”

“Could be useful,” Samson offers.

I shrug. “The High Blade invented most of these. Anything terrible? Her hand crafted it.”

Samson frowns. “And anything she made—”

“She made a way to avoid its effects for herself. These don’t work on Red Caps at all. They’re immune to the effects.”

Samson curses but points to the smaller golden-colored bottles higher up.

I return the darker potions and call down a handful of the thimble-size ones. “Healing,” I say, gesturing to the ones with round bottoms. “And these square ones are…” I frown, trying to think of a way to explain it. “A type of stimulant. They’ll keep you awake, help you go farther, but they’re dangerous for anyone with even a drop of human blood.”

“Hell, Alyth, healing? The Red Caps made healing potions? Like what fixed your wounds before? We obviously need those!”

I suppose he’s right. I’d been so focused on what weapons we needed, I forgot there were other supplies that would be helpful.

While Samson plucks down healing potions, I turn back to the Red Cap weapons.

The needle calls to me. It reminds me of the loom of the Faerie Queen, of Mary. It’s so small, innocuous.

Someone has put a drop of hardened resin on the tip so it won’t accidentally pierce anyone’s skin and inadvertently kill them. I pull it away carefully, looking at the tip.

Samson’s preoccupied with the healing potions. My father and the princes are huddled on the other side of the room, talking about how to outfit various troops in the event of an invasion, I think, judging from their animated movements and the scraps of words I catch.

No one sees as I carefully slip the needle into the neck of my bodice.

The cold metal rests against one of the scars the High Blade carved into my skin.

It was only by luck that I was able to distract her the first time. I recognized the castle by the border; I knew the kelpie loch wasn’t far off.

If I’m captured and tortured a second time, I need a way out.

The scars lining my body ache, and bile rises to my tongue. After I was captured, seeing Samson holding the dagger above me almost broke my soul, but only because the High Blade had broken my body so effectively in all the long hours of that night. The way she flayed my skin and then healed it only to slice into me again. The methodical way she broke and fixed my bones, over and over. The way she kept dragging me to the brink of death only to force a potion down my throat.

Samson didn’t ask why the Red Caps have healing potions.

But I know why.

And if I’m caught again…

All I have to do is get to that needle.

And then I know I won’t break.

One prick. Just slide the tip into my skin.

It won’t be much of a victory, but if the only way I can protect the portals is to ensure I cannot spill their location to the High Blade…

“Alyth?” Samson asks.

I jump, turning around.

He frowns at me. “What are you doing over there?”