Page 58 of Poison Nights & Twilight Alchemy

Eventually, though, they left the warmth of the cottage, pulled from their bliss and thrown back into the cold reality of their journey. Neither spoke as they gathered their things and saddled the horses, the animals having wandered back to them in the night, perhaps sensing it was these humans, and Dulce in particular, who could protect them from whatever mysterious magic was destroying the world around them.

Soon Dulce would face La Bisou Morte, would try with everything in her to convince the witch to reverse the havoc she’d created. Reed vowed to do all he could to keep her safe, and with the kiss she’d given him after eating the poison berry, he hoped the spell would be enough to combat the witch’s magic if need be. The thought of Dulce’s life being endangered in any way madehis chest tighten. Was this what it meant to love? Anguish at the very thought of another’s unhappiness?

Dulce rode in silence, her dark hair streaming behind her like silk ribbons, the landscape around them continuing to grow more devoid of life as they rose out of the valley to pass over endless rolling hills.

They stopped only to rest the horses and eat, determined to keep up their strength, knowing they would need all the advantage they could get.

The day wore on until at last, in the distance, their destination slipped into their view for the first time.

A fortress, as large as ten of the Duke’s palaces, lay like a giant’s discarded crown along the cliffs of the Crowmare Sea, its water reaching out beyond the horizon in midnight blue waves. Here was not an abandoned castle. There would certainly be guards protecting its walls.

Halting their horses within the shelter of a row of stone oak trees, they looked on in gloomy silence, Reed’s heart galloping against his sternum.

Dulce’s lips formed a tight line as she glanced up. “The sky isn’t painted in blood. That could be a good sign… Possibly.”

“Please tell me you have a plan of entry, Majesty,” Reed said, imagining an army of guards with giant spears, eager to impale any unwanted visitors.

“As a matter of fact, I do.” Dulce turned to grin at him, and Reed stared, the desire to kiss her overwhelming his every thought. “But I must warn you, it will be somewhat disorienting.”

“Expound ondisorienting,” he uttered. “Do you mean disorienting like seductive, murderous ghosts, rabidtaxidermy animals—or disorienting like fireballs falling from the sky?”

“Disorienting like … you may not be able to feel your limbs properly.” She patted his shoulder.

“Oh, just that?” Reed arched a brow. “Sounds like every successful fight night.”

“You may experience nausea.”

Reed nodded. “Mmm, enticing.” His voice came out laced with sarcasm.

“And dizziness,” Dulce added.

“I survived the fever plague as a child,” Reed confessed. “How much worse can this be?”

Hopping from her horse, Dulce retrieved her satchel from where it hung and searched through it. She placed worn utensils and mysterious ingredients along the rocky ground as she consulted her spell book, muttering to herself, an adorable frown of concentration on her face while she mixed and stirred ingredients.

“The horses will be spotted from miles away.” She sighed, grinding something crunchy into a small bowl with a rock. “But I hesitate to feed any horse this. Did you know so many things are poisonous to them? Alsike clover, ivy, yellow star-thistle, foxglove, oleander, hemlock, yew—the list goes on and on. I cannot in good conscience make them consume it.”

“So we let them go.” Reed dismounted his horse and placed a hand on her shoulder. “They’ll find their own way back home.”

Dulce’s eyes were wide as she turned to look up at him. “What if they’re turned to stone? What if—”

“If we fail, they die along with everyone else anyway.” Reed crouched to face her and kissed her softly on thecheek. “Nothing matters more than breaking this spell.”

A smile played along her lips. “Nothing…?”

He watched her, his lungs unmoving, as Dulce brought her lips to his. She’d begun this journey a stranger to him, yet how quickly that had changed. Now she was an integral piece of him, and he would give up his life to make certain she was still alive in the end.

“If La Bisou Morte doesn’t want to play nice, you will defeat her,” Reed whispered. “I know you will. This whey-faced assassin strumpet has no idea what she’s about to encounter. Truth be told, I almost feel sorry for her.”

Dulce laughed as tears filled her eyes, the sound an alluring melody. She brought her lips to his once again, soft as feathers.

“Truth be told,” she started, “I have no idea what I’m doing, Reed. My mother said in her last letter to me that everything I need to know is already in my heart, but what does that evenmean? Yes, she taught me alchemy, tricks, and I have her book. But, if I’m honest, most of what my heart contains is fear. Fear that I will fail, and everything we know will be destroyed…”

Reed lifted Dulce to her feet before brushing her tears away and taking her hands in his. “Then you’ll make a spell like no other. Your mother believed in you. And so do I.”

Dulce reached into her satchel and held up two dark feathers. “Let’s hope the raven’s feathers have enough magic left in them for this spell to work.”

It was true that Reed could hardly feel his limbs as they flew across the open plain, but he soon became accustomed to the strange sensation while they soared toward the looming castle in the distance. Dulce warned him that to shift into animal form through alchemy was to be at one with the elements around him, and seconds after following her instructions—wrapping a strand of his hair around a feather and adding a drop of his blood to the drink she offered him—he merged with his surroundings. Which were mostly rock. The trees, their shape stuck in a perpetual summer, turned to stone, their branches heavy and blooming stone fruit in the warm light of the sunset. Even the wheat stalks had become stone, frozen in time, leaning in wind that once blew across the land, the air now fallen still but for the fog swirling against the ground like ghostly fingers, purple smoke moving with each footfall.

---