The flower I’d gotten out of my encounter with the stag was undeniably beautiful.

  Its stem and leaves were bright orange. Three separate flowers branched off to the side, a bit lower on the stem, with a central flower at the top. Each bloom consisted of an outer layer of long, brown petals, cradling an inner layer of shorter, yellow ones. The flowers reminded me of lotus blossoms, with better defined layers and slightly pointier petals.

  When I first acquired the flower, I’d been enchanted by the mana it radiated. It was unspeakably pure, for lack of a better word, and potent.

  Only later did I realize that the plant had not reached its full potential. Once I really pushed to understand it, the flower felt hungry to my senses, like it was missing something essential that it required to thrive.

  I had tried to take care of it, of course. Water, fertilizer, even an actual, well-crafted pot from Alys instead of the wooden ingredient box I’d stuffed it into initially.

  None of that worked. I’d been forced to use mana to keep the plant from starting to decay, carefully rationing my leftover mana crystals to do so. I could infect them with my mana ever so slightly and use them as the medium to nurture the plant. This had kept it healthy, but it wasn’t a long-term solution. I would eventually run out of mana crystals. Then I would have to watch the flower waste away, or else risk using my mana directly… which would probably just make the plant waste away all the faster.

  I was genuinely surprised that the small bits of poison it was getting, in spite of my best efforts to shield it, hadn’t already caused the flower to die. Perhaps its own potent nature was protecting it well enough.

  I let out a hiss of frustration as I tried to cast a diagnostic spell on it and failed yet again. Had I proper equipment, I could have discovered all the flower’s secrets Seasons ago.

  Alternatively, the support of a proper gardener would have done wonders. This path was no longer open to me, but there were gardeners among my family who looked after our ingredients. One of them could have taken a single look at the frustrating plant and told me everything I needed to know.

  I gnawed on my lower lip, looking at the plant from every angle. Then, with a sigh, I accepted what I would need to do.

  First, I took a moment to cast the spell that collected contaminants out of the air, eliminating the worst effects of my daily brewing. Then I grabbed one of my wooden ingredient boxes, ventured outside, and filled the box two-thirds of the way with dirt. I fetched a bit of fertilizer and mixed an excessive amount of it into the soil. After adding some water, I finally returned to my lab.

  I put the box next to the flower pot and rummaged through my storage bag for a pure silver knife and some mana crystals, eyeing the plant as I did so. It didn’t take me long to decide which of the flowers I wanted to cut. The side flower with the longest stem was the best option.

  I took a deep breath as I gently cupped the flower. My knife flashed out, and then I was holding the bloom in my hands.

  A brief pulse of mana escaped the plant, startling me. The next moment, I paled.

  Both the main plant and the flower in my hand were bleeding mana.

  Cursing in a way that would have made a Courtier faint, I rushed for the mana crystals I’d left on the table. I barely kept myself from flooding them with my mana. Instead, I wove strands of it into the crystals before crushing them and releasing the powder over the damage to the plant’s stem, where a thick, yellow sap was also flowing out. I focused, doing my best to limit the poisonous potency of my mana as I urged the plant to heal.

  To my utter surprise, it did so with no resistance at all.

  The cut sealed like it had never been there to begin with, leaving only the sap as proof of what I’d done to the plant. As much as the sap called for me to study it, I turned my attention swiftly to the flower I’d taken. It was worse off than the main plant by far, but its mana was also draining away much more slowly. The flower petals were only just starting to curl and wither at the tips.

  I hesitated for just a beat. The flower had lost so much of its mana already. If I didn’t do something immediately, I risked losing the bloom as anything more than a curiosity to study and glean the main plant’s properties.

  So, deciding to take a risk, I flooded my mana into the flower and ordered it to cling to life.

  A gasp escaped my lips as my mana dipped a shocking amount. My body moved on instinct. I treated the short stem more as a spear than a plant as I thrust it into the soil I’d prepared, my mana continuing to drain into the flower.

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  I felt the bloom’s life stir. Slowly, ever so slowly, the bottom of the cut stem squirmed. Tiny, wispy roots stretched out, burrowing into the soil and searching for sustenance they failed to find.

  The flower practically wailed at me for more mana. With another brief moment of hesitation, I let the full extent of my power out to play.

  My mana did not change colors. It didn’t suddenly have an aura of death and malice to it. It simply grew heavier, becoming less vapor and more like a thick liquid that dripped and squirmed. I lost none of the speed or precision of my spellcasting, but my mana was now an actual impediment to people trying to approach me. Or to flee.

  The reason I normally refused to do this became apparent as discolored patches appeared everywhere my mana touched the wood of the table. The pure silver knife I’d left there turned entirely black.

  The flower, however, rejoiced.

  Its drain on my mana reduced significantly as the flower gorged on the poison within the substance. Roots shot out and thickened in mere seconds. The damage to the petals began to reverse rapidly.

  No, not just reverse. Before, the petals had been a rather dull brown and a passably pretty yellow. Now, as I watched, those yellow inner petals became a luminous golden color that looked almost molten. The brown darkened into a pitch black that cupped the inner light protectively.

  The orange stem also began to turn golden as red patterns crawled up its length from the roots. The patterns reached the black petals and etched into them, making them glow as well. The flower was now a fascinating study in gold, red, and black. A miniature sun caught in a protective cage, filling the space of my laboratory with an odd sort of warmth.

  The drain on my mana disappeared. I slumped over the table, staring at the flower like it had personally insulted me with its beauty.

  I felt like laughing. Or maybe cursing some more.

  With my mana added to its reserves, the flower no longer rejected me. In fact, I now possessed an innate insight into its properties. These were healing, life, and purification. The flower would excel as an ingredient in every potion that had something to do with those fields, and many others that didn’t.

  It was a ridiculously potent ingredient, ludicrously relevant to so many of my projects… and it fed on poison.

  A shiver ran down my spine as my mind briefly flashed back to the memory of the stag spirit. I had assumed the flower was a bit of good fortune, a chance encounter that ended on a good note.

  Yet here I was, with a flower tailor-made for someone like me to raise. A flower with properties that might very well assist me with the potion I was trying to craft for Alys, and would definitely help me complete the potions for the birth of Nelaeryn’s child.

  If either one of those two statements had been true, I would have been content and moved on with my day. Yet with both? My inherent ability to nurture the flower, and the fact that its effects were so particularly beneficial for my work? I wasn’t willing to write that off as mere coincidence.

  Then another thought thundered through me, and I shuddered again. The flower fed on poison, yes, but I was a single fae. The number I could raise would be limited. How convenient, then, that there were suddenly three glades nearby with highly poisonous trees. Trees which might be able to establish a symbiotic relationship with the flowers.

  Everything, absolutely everything, was lining up for my benefit.

  And I hated it.

  I hated dealing with powerful beings who might or might not be positioning me for some kind of a plot in the future. I hated suddenly feeling like I was dancing to the tune of someone else’s song.

  And I absolutely loathed the feeling of waiting for the other shoe to drop.

  Creatures like that didn’t just go around handing out favors. There was a cost to everything. Everything. And I had implicitly agreed to pay that cost by snatching the flower up.

  I felt like the biggest fool in the world. I’d been out of the Court for less than a year, and I was already making mistakes that would have gotten me killed back there.

  What might the stag want from me? My skills as an alchemist were advanced, especially for the frontier, but that couldn’t be it.

  Could it?

  Was it my bloodline, then? I wasn’t in the line of succession, but I did have Autumn’s blood hidden away deep inside of me.

  Or, and the possibility sent murderous wrath coiling through me, was it Alys the stag was trying to ensnare? The flower was likely to end up in a potion meant for her, after all.

  And what about that other presence, the one I’d felt lurking beneath the manchineel trees? Was it connected to the stag? Was one working for the other, or were they working together? Were they against each other?

  More importantly, did they both have plans for me? For Alys?

  I almost marched into the forest that instant to demand answers and hurl threats, but I was wise enough to stop myself.

  The stag would squish me like a bug. A bug that could release enough poison and plagues to scar the stag’s forests for a very long time, true, but I wasn’t fool enough to think I could harm the spirit itself.

  No, I thought, gritting my teeth with the effort to stand still. I’ll just… do what I can, for now. I’ll warn Alys, and we can plan for the future. Maybe her grandmother could help?

  It would be poor manners to demand help immediately after meeting The Molten Expanse, but I was panicking just a bit.

  In all the stories I’d heard about a powerful fae handing out gifts like what I’d received, events didn’t end well for the recipient. Now, I knew the stag wasn’t a fae. I strongly suspected it was some sort of ancient nature spirit, one likely to have been worshipped in the past. But that didn’t mean the same logic couldn’t apply.

  Gods and spirits were often just as prone as fae to offering poisoned chalices disguised as invaluable succor.

  I scowled. All I had wanted was to focus on my alchemy, at long last. I’d hoped to make progress towards doing something nice for my dragoness while simultaneously impressing her grandmother. And now I had a crisis on my hands.

  I made myself stop and think for a moment. Once I decided I was not overreacting, the next step was clear.

  Alys needed to know everything I had just discovered.

  Immediately.