She nods. “But hardly anyone survives the addiction.”
“I will do it.” Not a single bone in my body feels hesitation. I don’t have the luxury of turning away any help. I need to guide their spirits out of the Spiritland and prevent the war, even if it is the last thing I do.
“Not a word to your companions.” She stares me out with those creepy white orbs, and I dip my chin in agreement.
I don’t trust them anyway.
“I have a mind connection with the shapeshifter.” Knowing Aidon, he will not approve.
The Witch muses, searching through shelves. I wonder how she finds anything in that mess.
“I can disguise the image of the root in your mind as a sleeping draught, so even the shapeshifter won’t sense it,” she offers.
“What will it cost me?” Fortunately, I have a deep vault at my disposal.
“When you are crowned, I’ll visit you in your castle, and you’ll grant me a meeting with the Dragons,” she says.
What the fudge now?
“It is impossible,” I protest, shaking my head.
She hushes me with a raised bony hand. “Do you agree, or not?” she snaps, jiggling the remedy.
I glare at the phial. It looks almost like a sleeping draught anyway.
I need it. I don’t have enough time to set my realm straight. I have no control and apparently no trusted advisors.
“Yes,” whatever happens, it will be tomorrow’s problem. Today I need to fix my mistakes.
She smiles, baring her teeth. “I’ll erase the memory of our deal from your mind. It’ll return to you once you’ve been crowned.”
She looks at me expectantly, and I nod. We shake on it, our powers meet, and the bargain is struck.
My stomach twists a heartbeat before she blows dust of a black powder into my face.
Shadows. Clouds. Misery.
I sway on my feet.
“Massage it to your pulse,” the Forest Witch pushes a phial into my hands. “That balm will provide you with full control of your Arken power.”
I do as she says.
The change is immediate.
The storm inside me raises the alarm, then falls asleep, and my mind becomes a peaceful place for the first time since my storm woke up in Dante’s room.
The vault of the never-ending possibilities unseals itself wildly in my chest.
I smile.
“Karo!” The Witch bellows, and the female marches into the room.
“Yes?” she asks, dipping her chin.
“Pack your things, you will accompany the High Queen on her journey, making sure she is wellstocked.”
Karo recoils. “Y-yes, lady,” she says, and rushes out of the room.
