“How can we help?” Rhess asked, wiping brown sap from her white robes.
Handing the empty vial over, Kiva said, “I need to replicate this. I think I’ve identified all the ingredients, but I’m not sure about the quantities.”
When Tipp held out his hand, Rhess handed the vial to him and admitted, “I’m not great at making complicated potions, but I’m pretty handy with a blade.” She indicated the chopping boards. “I can prepare anything you need.”
Kiva had hoped Rhess might be able to offer more help, but she’d also known replicating the potion would be tricky. She’d just have to follow her healing intuition from years of having to scrape together lifesaving treatments using limited resources. If she could do that, she could do this.
Resolved, Kiva laid out her ingredients, carefully considering what she knew of each, before giving instructions to Rhess and Tipp, with them slicing as directed. All too soon Kiva was combining the mixture and grinding everything together, then waiting for the garrow and mirkmoss to begin weeping, thinning the solution into a liquid.
“Is that h-how it’s meant to look?” Tipp asked when Kiva poured the potion into a clean vial.
“I think so,” Kiva said. She’d done everything she could to reproduce it perfectly, and she was certain that it looked and smelled the same as Delora’s. All that was left was to taste it and see. “Here goes.”
Tipping the vial to her lips, Kiva downed a mouthful, a thrill of pride hitting her when she realized that it tasted exactly the same as what she’d been ingesting for the last three days.
And yet, nothing happened.
Her magic didn’t vanish — it didn’t even fade. It was still there, whispering just beneath her skin, waiting to be released.
“Did it w-work?”
Kiva shook her head, disappointment — and fear — filling her.
“What was it supposed to do?” Rhess asked, eyeing Kiva closely.
Kiva just shook her head again and, in a hoarse voice, said, “It doesn’t matter. I’ll just — I’ll have to figure something else out.”
She’d been so certain — so certain — that she’d recreated the potion, enough that she knew there was no point in trying again with different measurements, because the taste, smell, and texture were all perfect.
Which meant, there was something missing.
A secret ingredient, most likely. Perhaps more than one, undetectable to taste, sight, and smell.
There were too many things it could be, a world of options, and while Kiva wasn’t someone who gave up easily, she knew it could take years of trial and error to figure it out.
Anger welled in her toward her grandmother, but before it could turn into full-blown fury, she stifled it, knowing it served no purpose. Delora had encouraged her to learn control, so that was what Kiva would have to do. She’d already managed to repress her magic for a decade — surely she could figure out how to use it safely now. Especially since it was clear she had no other choice.
“You look like you could use a chocabun,” Rhessinda commented, still watching Kiva carefully, and therefore seeing all the emotions play out across her face.
Having vomited up yesterday’s chocabuns, Kiva felt queasy at the thought, but Tipp jumped in and asked, “What’s a ch-chocabun?”
Rhess made a melodramatic gasping sound. “We need to rectify this situation immediately.”
And just like that, Rhess was leading Kiva and Tipp from the greenhouse and guiding them away from the gardens — and from any hope Kiva had for a potion. She’d known it would be difficult, but still . . .
Her disappointment was hard to shake.
Her fear, even harder.
But she buried them both, knowing neither would help.
She couldn’t, however, keep from mulling over why the potion hadn’t worked, before considering ways in which she might gain control of her magic, perhaps training it like Caldon was training her body. All of this and more flitted through her mind as she followed the chattering Rhessinda and Tipp out of the academy and down toward the river.
Lost in her thoughts, Kiva didn’t even see their attackers before Tipp’s cry and Rhess’s shout met her ears. An automatic instinct had her yanking Naari’s dagger from her boot, but it was knocked out of her hand as a cloth slammed over her mouth, its pungent, unfamiliar fumes causing everything to turn black in an instant.
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
Kiva was going to kill her sister.
That was her first thought when she began to rouse.