And then I unsheathe my father’s dagger.
This time, I don’t pray to any Gods. I pray to him.
Let this work, Father. Please.
I slice my palm open. Deep. Crimson blooms and trickles into the cauldron, and I reach for the stirring spoon. I’m hardly breathing as I stir once, twice, three times…
It starts steaming.
I almost weep with relief. I keep stirring, and the mixture transforms, alchemizing exactly how it should. The muddy mixture clarifies and turns a brilliant gold. It’s exactly the same viscosity as the all’s-cure Mother brews. And after fifteen clockwise turns, I know I’ve done it.
The omnidraught is complete.
I need to get it to someone I can trust—and suddenly I know exactly who. Quickly, I fill a small vial of blood to add to my ingredients and mark it in my notes. Then I heal my palm, hurry back to the main hospital, and track down Daisy in the laundry room. She’s helping sweep up the glass from the medicine cabinets, which were smashed to bits.
“I need a favor,” I say, rushing up to her.
“Okay?” She looks me up and down. “What’s wrong?”
“Not here. Come with me.”
Daisy doesn’t protest as I lead her back to the storehouse. After shutting the door behind me, I wheel around. Then I take a deep breath and tell her everything. My Talent, my mother, the Moragorion, the plague. I share the whole story of the day Mother left and the truth about Ragglestaff. I tell her about revealing my Talent to Finn, the omnidraught, and my plan to leave. The only piece I leave out is the gates and my mission with Cygnus. That doesn’t seem like my secret to tell. But the rest of the truths tumble free.
Daisy’s eyes widen exponentially as I speak, but she doesn’t interrupt me. And to her credit, she doesn’t recoil in disgust. She just listens.
Finally, I come to my conclusion. “I need you to make sure that all of this gets to Cygnus.” I gesture at my workbench,where the cauldron, the mortar and pestle, the jars of flowers and ingredients, and Ragglestaff’s notes are spread. “And I need you to tell him that the final catalyst is blood. You’ve helped me with most of it. You know where to get more cliffcrow feathers. The Crown can source him the rest. With your help, he should be able to duplicate what I’ve done.”
“Why don’t you just tell him yourself?”
“He’s with Queen Davina. My secret is out, and I’ve done the only job they brought me to do. If I don’t leave now, I’m going to end up in a cell—or worse.”
“You don’t have to go,” Daisy argues. “Finn could protect you.”
I swallow at her words. I wish they could be true. My thoughts fly to Cygnus’s mother, the spy who served Rodrick faithfully until he decided she’d exhausted her purpose.
“Maybe he could,” I say thickly. “But not forever.”
“Helovesyou,” she counters.
I shake my head. “It doesn’t matter. We’re at war, and it’s going to catch up with us eventually.”
“But leaving now could kill you,” Daisy reasons.
“I could face worse than death if I stay.”
Torture, a long and painful execution…What horrors would they drag out for me?
We appraise each other for a long moment, and her small features are hard. Quietly, she says, “If you can get to the east quarter of the city, my nana knows how to get people papers.”
Her eyes blaze. I swallow, working to absorb her meaning.
“You might have to wait a few weeks or months, but she can help get you out.” She squeezes my hands. “I hope you can make it to safety. You’re a little weird, but you’ve been kind to me, Lyria. I pray the Almighty goes with you.”
When I pull her into one last hug, I wonder if I’ve been underestimating Daisy.
My last stop is my tower, where I collect my belongings and Dante. It’s dark as I steal downstairs and out of the palace. The fox’s little orange head peeks out from my pack, but thankfully he remains quiet. The air is thick and heavy, like it’s about to rain. There’s so much chaos in the wake of the attack that nobody notices one small figure weaving through the muddy scene. I find the stables deserted except for the horses that poke their heads out of their stalls, eyeing me curiously. It’s not hard to find an unattended saddle.
I pick the horse I rode on the way here, a big bay mare. “You ready for another long ride?” I whisper, slipping into her stall.
