When King Artius Soliel called for the extermination of those who still prayed to the Goddess Lua. Roan Delmar, at twelve years of age, set the first pyre to prove his loyalty to not only the Goddess Soli, but to the King as well. He slit the throats of the five chosen and then burned their bodies. It was rumored that his aunt was one of those he killed that night, or sometimes his mother depending on what version of the tale was told.
It was the night I myself lost my own mother and he gained the name ofKinslayer.Though he did nothing to rid himself of it, for he still slayed any Luanthian the King asked of him over the years.
Kinslayer indeed.My thoughts were bitter, disgust burning the back of my throat. Glancing back down at the paper, I scoffed as I shoved it back towards the Prince.
“So, you what?” I asked blandly, “You believe me to be the Potion Maker this prophecy speaks of?”
“Your name holds considerable weight in the Old Quarter, Syra,” Prince Kairen pleaded, “who does this Kingdom cast away more than those in the Old Quarter? They may be Solerian converts, but they arestilltreated as Luanthians. Even those that are Solerian born are looked down upon for being poor or sick.”
A feeling of dread bloomed within the pit of my stomach as I shook my head. I wanted to refuse, to deny the words that clawed and sunk into my soul.
And then Delmar spoke, his voice without any malice for once, just soft and almost,almosttender. “We nearly had our heads boxed off when asking around about you in the Old Quarter. The people there are very protective of you andyour Aunt.”
I took another long pull from the tankard that sat forgotten before me, my mind whirling.
“This quest is to help everyone within the kingdom, including those you already care for,” Prince Kairen spoke, voice low so others in the tavern could not overhear. “We seek a cure for The Fever.”
Choking on the firemead, my eyes grew wide.
Spluttering, I choked out, “If the Potion Masters and Healers oflegendhaven’t been able to find a cure, what makes you think thatwecan?”
The Prince merely tapped the paper before him, that blinding, charming smile curving his lips. “Because they weren’tdestinedfor it.”
And then I did the most, arguably, unexpected thing of the night.
I laughed.
I laughed in the face of a Solerian Prince. Before I could stop myself, the words were tumbling from my mouth, “You’reinsane.”
A cure was impossible. The greatest minds within Tavari had been searching for a cure since The Fever had first appeared.
I was drinking with a mad man, a madPrince.
And his overly aggressive guard dog on top of it.
“Syra,” Kai began again, “For this quest to succeed I need a Potion Maker–one the people revere. I think that person is you, will you join us and take this quest as your third trial?”
Shaking my head, my words were rushed, “No, I will notriskmy trials, myfuture,for some fairytale that you have concocted within your head—”
"If we fail, you will be able to return and redo the third trial without any repercussions–I will personally see to it."
I hesitated, for only a moment, but it was enough for hope to light within his eyes.
Nine Hells.
Groaning, my fingers rubbed slow circles at my temples. I had to deny him, but he was aPrince.
"Let me think it over? I arrive at the palace in a few days to begin my trials, allow me to get through the first two and then I will give you my answer. I need to think."
"You have until after your first trial to give me your answer, I'll need time to make preparations for our journey," he reasoned and I narrowed my eyes.
He wanted tonegotiate? Fine.
"It says that there will be five," I glanced at the Prince as he nodded his confirmation, “you are clearly the Prince of the first line. He, I'm assuming, is the one with bloody hands," I pointed flippantly to the moody man, his answering low growl causing my stomach to twist with unease. “You believe me to be the Potion Maker, so who is the Healer and who is the Soldier?"
"The Healer we have already found, my cousin Rena, actually," he stated and then added, "we have not decided on a soldier yet, but we've narrowed down a few options.”
"If I'm to come, I want to pick the soldier," I said as a hasty idea was beginning to form in my mind, and I wasn't sure if it was pure genius or the stupidest thing I had ever done.
