Chapter 20

Elouera

The air in the Under Market smelled of wet coal, roasted burnt coffee, and old sewage.

I kept my head down, pulling my oilskin hood farther over my face so the flickering shadows of the underground streets could hide me. Every step across the wet cobblestones felt like a struggle against my own body. The terrible heat caused by Holden's black pill had faded into a dull fever, but my skin was still painfully sensitive. Even my linen shirt brushing against it felt rough, like sandpaper.

Stirling and Callan's fight in the gallery had given me the small chance I needed. While the two Alphas were arguing over rules and bloodlines, I slipped away through the forgotten sewage tunnels and made my way into the hidden parts of the city.

I was running out of time.

The pill Holden had forced down my throat wasn't a suppressant. It wasn't just causing a temporary reaction. My body was changing.

Deep inside my stomach, a strange cold feeling was spreading through me. It pushed against the heat already building inside my body. It felt like something heavy and unnatural was moving through my veins, changing whatever was left of the real me.

I stopped in front of a rotten wooden door hidden beneath the arches of the Old Bridge. I knocked three times quickly, waited, then knocked twice more.

A small opening in the door slowly opened with a creak. One pale, cloudy eye stared at me from the darkness.

"The Weaver sends her respects," I whispered. My voice was rough, and there was nothing royal about it anymore.

The heavy iron bolts slid back, and the door opened.

The apothecary smelled of dried herbs, old candle wax, and vinegar. Dusty glass jars filled with dark liquids and dried roots covered the shelves, almost reaching the low ceiling.

Master Bram sat behind the old oak counter. He was an old man with purple stained fingers from years of handling ink and poison. He was one of the few people in the capital who knew the Weaver was real. He didn't care about royal titles. If he was paid, he was willing to help.

"You look like a dead man who crawled out of a swamp, boy," Bram grunted.

His voice was deep and rough. He didn't ask me to sit. He just crossed his arms. One eye was cloudy and white, while the other watched me carefully..

"What did you bring me?"

I reached under my cloak, my hand still shaking. I pulled a small piece of wax paper from my pocket and slowly opened it on the scratched oak counter.

Inside was a single black pill.

It was the same pill I had managed to steal from Holden's velvet coat before I escaped. Under the weak lantern light, the pill didn't shine. It seemed to swallow the light, looking dull and oily.

"I need to know what's in it," I said, leaning against the counter to keep my knees from giving out. "Not tomorrow. Now."

Bram stared at the pill. He didn't touch it with his bare hands. Instead, he picked up a pair of brass tweezers, carefully lifted the tiny pill, and held it up to the lantern.

"It's a suppressant," I said quietly, trying to calm my racing heart. "Or at least... it was supposed to be."

"This isn't a suppressant," Bram muttered.

His good eye widened slightly. He brought the pill closer to his nose and smelled it. Then he dropped it into a small porcelain bowl.

He picked up a heavy glass pestle and crushed the pill.

A small cloud of dark purple dust rose into the air. The smell hit me immediately. It was sharp and bitter, like metal mixed with burnt sugar. My throat tightened.

Bram reached for a dark blue bottle on the shelf and poured three drops of clear liquid onto the crushed powder.

The powder didn't dissolve.

Instead, it began to hiss.

Thin, oily smoke curled up from the bowl. The smoke slowly changed from dark purple to a sickly white.

All the color drained from Bram's face.

His hand shook so badly that he almost dropped the bottle. He stepped away from the counter, staring at the bowl as if something dangerous might come crawling out of it.

"Where did you get this?" Bram whispered.

His rough voice was now filled with fear.

"What is it, Bram?" I demanded, gripping the edge of the oak counter. "Is it poison?"

"Poison would be a mercy, child," Bram whispered.

His good eye was wide as he looked at me.

"This is Night bloom root mixed with crushed iron-gall and distilled mercury."

I swallowed hard. My throat felt dry.

"What does it do?"

"It doesn't hide an Omega's heat," Bram said.

He leaned over the counter, his breath smelling of old tobacco.

"It makes the body destroy its own hormones until the reproductive system starts to harden and shut down."

He paused.It's an eradication agent, Weaver. Whoever takes it will lose their heat within three weeks."

His voice became quieter.But their mind...

He stopped and shuddered.

"What happens to their mind?" I asked, stepping closer.

A terrible coldness spread through me.

"It takes away their sanity," Bram whispered. "They slowly lose themselves until they're nothing more than an empty shell that obeys orders."

A cold wave of fear hit me.

Holden wasn't trying to hide my secret from the court.

He wanted something much worse.

He wanted to destroy my mind and turn the "idiot prince" into a permanent puppet, someone who couldn't think for himself and could be controlled by him forever.

"Bram," I choked out, grabbing his sleeve. "Is there an antidote? Can you neutralize it?"

Before the old man could answer, the heavy wooden door behind me exploded inward in a shower of splintered oak and iron.

Four men in dark leather armor poured into the tiny room, their faces hidden behind steel visors. But it wasn't their weapons that made my breath lock in my throat.

It was the silver crest stamped into their chest plates.

Archduke Holden’s elite private guard.

The lead soldier didn't draw a sword. He held a heavy iron crossbow, the broadhead bolt pointed directly at my chest."The Archduke sends his regards, Your Highness," the soldier said sharply, his voice muffled behind his helmet. "He knew you'd come here. Take them both.”