The Way We Fall

Chapter 13 (Roche)

TW: Brief mention of racism

The Irulian ambassador had arrived and Roche could feel a sense of urgency clouding the air. Not just because the king seemed oddly set on war, but because she knew that there was no better time for poisoning than when foreign company was present.

Everything made sense in Roche's mind. It was the perfect set up, really. Poison the king at the meeting. Blame Irulia. Throw the kingdom into war and the kingdom would be weak. The king would be humiliated if he survived the poison.

But there was one problem.

"What is that?" Verita spat at breakfast, setting down the grey sludge Roche had come to recognize as porridge. Roche looked up, stifling a yawn. On the table was the golden petal she'd recovered. It hadn't wilted at all. If anything, it seemed to glow brighter in the daylight. The wrongness radiating from it made Roche queasy and glad she hadn't eaten breakfast yet.

"This is what the intruders left behind after meeting in the halls." Roche explained, rubbing her eyes. Exhaustion was wearing on her. She hadn't been awoken by footsteps of intruders recently, but the thought of someone skulking outside her chambers had made it difficult to sleep. She'd spent most of the night poring over books she'd found regarding different types of datura flowers.

So far, none of them matched.

Verita sat beside Roche on the bench with a groan. She held out her papery hand. "Let me see that." the librarian insisted grouchily. Roche obliged easily. As expected, Verita's brows knitted together with disapproval. "What have I told you about staying out of these intruders' business? I'll find them soon enough. How am I supposed to keep you safe, as I promised you mother, if you won't stay out of trouble?"

The note of irritation in her voice made Roche wince with guilt.

"I'm sorry, Verita. Truly, I don't mean to get you in trouble." Roche apologized sincerely, "I didn't mean to overhear the conversation. I just thought something seemed strange and I followed. Besides, don't you sense that?"

"Sense what?"

Roche pointed at the perfectly curled petal. "Inkblood. And it feels strange, just like the inkblood I felt from those strangers."

Verita set the gold petal down carefully. "Inkblood often radiates the energy and intention of the most recently used incantation until the incantation fades, usually with time. If this petal feels so strangely after a day of idle sitting, the incantation used on it must be powerful." the librarian explained thoughtfully.

Roche stretched her fingers out towards the petals and nearly gagged as the sensation rolled over her. She snatched her hand back quickly. "It feels... wrong." she admitted, "Inkblood usually doesn't feel like that."

Verita raised a brow. "Do you usually feel inkblood?"

Roche's cheeks warmed. She felt foolish admitting it aloud. "Sometimes. Mostly it just feels wild and playful. But this? It feels like it's trying to take something from me. Something important."

Verita stared at Roche intently until Roche began to squirm.

"Only the most powerful of inkblood wielders can sense previous incantations this way," Verita said after a long moment, "The feeling you're describing means that someone has enchanted this flower with malicious intent."

"Enchanted?" Roche repeated incredulously. Her skin itched at the word. Her eyes widened with horror. "We touched it! Have we been enchanted?"

Verita bit her lip, looking far less concerned than Roche would have liked. The librarian plucked the flower off the table again and Roche hid behind her hands in fear.