This is where they housed the Queen’s weapons, but there’s only one left: the rose gold bow.
In front of the elevator are two soldiers. The Queen’s Guard, I heard them called last time I was here. Their faces are stoic, spears behind their backs.
And beside them is one of Kairyn’s Penta Conclave. His turquoise armor gleams, and he wrings his hands on the hilt of a trident. A chain with a single seashell dangles from his neck.
“That belongs to Dayton, you fucking bastard!” I snarl, surging up. “What did you do to him?”
The Nightingale turns, sighing. With the flick of her wrist, briars ensnare me. I try again to take control of them. But it doesn’t feel like before when she was blocking me.
No, I feel nothing at all.
I try my fire next, but there’s not even a tiny whisper of magic.
It’s like I’m human again.
“We have all the weapons, and almost all the Queen’s tokens.” The Nightingale smirks. “We’re closer to our goal than ever.”
Her eyes drift to the center of the room, where the bow sits.
You’re not wielding all the weapons. The roses on the bow are so like the one on my necklace. But Caspian didn’t hand over my moonstone rose with the rest of them. Is it a token, too?
It doesn’t matter. I need to get out of here. I try to reach for my mate bonds, screaming out to them. Kel! Ezryn! Farron! But even my thoughts feel trapped inside.
The Nightingale gives another long laugh. She waves a near-empty glass chalice, a few drops of black liquid swishing within. “This marked a significant breakthrough for me, one of several I’ve experienced lately. Once this circulates in your bloodstream, it will eliminate all traces of magic, thorns, and mate bonds. Now, you’re no better than an ordinary human.”
No wonder she hadn’t felt the need to chain me. “Where are the princes?”
“Is that all you’re worried about?” She makes a mock pouting face. “Can’t even be bothered to praise my wonderful accomplishments.” She gestures to the windowsill with a flourish, displaying all her vials, glasses, and vases of flower buds.
“I don’t care—” I begin, then stop. If she wants to tell me how she sapped my magic, then I’m all ears. A purple flower bud catches my eye. “You’re the one who poisoned Ezryn and me by the willow tree.”
She lightly strokes the purple flower. “I wish it were my own creation, but no. That little botanical beauty is a mix of Kairyn’s magic and Quellos’s twisted experiments. A flower with pollen capable of producing hallucinations crafted from your worst nightmares. You must agree, it was highly effective.”
The memory of Ezryn’s screams sends a shiver down my spine. Fucking Perth Quellos, working for the Below. He finally found a place to appreciate his despicable mind. I need to keep her talking. “Did Quellos figure out how to steal my magic, too?”
“Don’t give that bald weakling all the credit. Sure, his little greenhouse of horrors may cultivate these beauties, but I brewed the potion.” She picks up a black flower and brings it to her nose, covered by her mask. “Perfectly safe as is, but when I found just the right chemistry … Your little spark of magic is nothing more than ash.”
“You’re using the beauty of Spring against its own people,” I say.
“Spring was rotting anyway,” she snarls back. She picks up the vase, tracing her hand over the bouquet of budding flowers. “Mother never appreciates my potions. Says I’m wasting my time. But look what Kairyn, Quellos, and I have done. Purple flowers for nightmares, black for magic suppression. But these beautiful red ones are the star of the show.”
I blink my eyes. I’ve seen those flowers—they’re everywhere around Florendel. They were even in my room. “What do they do?”
The Nightingale beams down at the red bud. “Once it blooms, it expels a pollen that turns one’s mind into an empty space and links it to a host of my choosing.”
No wonder water had been the cure both for my nightmares at Sylvanita Lake and when I was up the mountain. I needed to clear my nose of the poisoned pollen. I look around the room, searching for a carafe or jug. Maybe water could cure my magic suppression…
But no. She’d said the black flower had to be brewed in a potion and ingested. I’ll need an antidote. And more information. “Who is the host?”
The Nightingale blinks at me, pride shining in her eyes. “This special bloom will turn one into a symbiont of High Prince Kairyn.”