For those waiting for the other promised books, I am working on them. This is the project of my heart I save for an hour or two on the weekends.
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Bright morning sunshine filled Allophane’s laboratory, sending sharp glints through the crystal beakers and delicate glass vials before being reflected by the magic mirrors. Even the metal instruments reflected the light, giving her a sense of hope. The fireplace remained unlit on such a warm, glorious day. She had opened the laboratory windows to clear out the noxious fumes from her latest brew. But the light and fresh air meant nothing if she and her sisters couldn’t find a cure for the king.
The clock on the mantel ticked away the time with its silver pendulum. Shadows and reflections shifted across the room as she measured and stirred and poured. Heating part of the solution over a silver Bunsen burner until it turned pink. Cooling another part in a silver bucket of winter ice from the laboratory’s icebox until it also changed from clear to blue.
Her stomach rumbled, but she couldn’t stop working. The Kingdom of Oz could fall into civil war if King Pastoria died, especially with his daughter and only heir merely a few months old. Two of her sisters, Beryl and Willis, had proposed the sisterhood should take control and act as the princess’s regents until she reached the age of majority.
Allophane knew exactly how the governors of the four lands of Oz would react to that idea. It was the same reaction she had when Beryl and Willis proposed their plan. Power of any kind could be misused. Magic most easily of all. With the queen’s death from delivering her daughter and the king dying of what everyone assumed was heartbreak, the princess needed love and care, not to be a pawn among the nobility or the witch protectors.
Allophane shooed away her wayward thoughts and concentrated on what she was doing. She carefully poured the now-cooled pink liquid into a clean empty vial before she added the chilled blue solution.
The two liquids swirled together until the lavender mixture started fizzing. It bubbled and foamed while she carefully fed her magic into the potion so it wouldn’t run over the top of the vial.
At the rapid knocks on Allophane’s study door, her concentration shattered. So did the glass vial holding the potion she’d spent the morning brewing. The contents spilled across her work table, searing the antique wood. Drops of her elixir dripped from the edge of the table, splashed upon the flagstones of her study, and spread across the floor until the brew ignited the small blue braided rug by her favorite chair.
Holding her breath against the billowing acrid smoke, she summoned a tiny raincloud to extinguish the flames before she stomped across the drier parts of the floor. Her azure skirts and white apron whipped around her ankles with the force of her bootsteps. She yanked open her study door.
“What?” She glared at Jamina. The diminutive maid wore her household uniform of navy dress, matching leather boots, and her pale blue apron.
“This just arrived from the capital, madam.” Jamina dropped a curtsey as she held out the pure white envelope, its surface marred by a blob of brilliant green wax. In the middle of the seal was the stamp of the royal vizier, not Pastoria’s personal sigil.
With dread dragging down her soul, Allophane broke the wax and scanned the contents twice. She was too late. The king was gone.
Her entire body sagged, and she grasped the edge of one of her cabinets to remain upright. “Wh-when?”
“The messengers literally just arrived,” Jamina murmured.
“Does my sister know?”
“Jellia took Lady Beryl’s envelope to her.”
It was the mannerly thing to do. However, worry twisted Allophane’s innards. What would Beryl and Willis do with the king dead? And which way would their sister protectors jump?
“And the messengers?”
“The human is caring for his horse,” Jamina reported. “The poor thing ran for three days straight.”
Allophane nodded. “Please see that they both are given a gold coin for going above and beyond their duties.
“Yes, m’lady.” The maid curtsied for a second time before she left and closed the laboratory door.
Allophane made her way to her chair by the dark fireplace and dropped onto the soft cushion. Her tears rolled down her cheeks. How could this have happened? She, Locasta, Amber, and Glinda had been researching and brewing and—
It had all been for nothing.
Now, the baby princess would grow up without either parent. Would she even have real love with the governors and the protector witches fighting over who would be the girl’s regent until she was old enough to take the throne.
A horrible thought occurred. Would the child live long enough to become queen of Oz?
Someone knocked on the laboratory door. Someone with force. Someone who didn’t bother with respect. It could only be the one person in Munchkin Country who didn’t respect her.
Allophane wiped the tears from her cheeks with the hem of her apron before she strode across the floor and yanked the door open.
Beryl took one look at her and sniffed. “You had to have expected this news, sister.”
“Just because your compassion is non-existent, it doesn’t mean mine is,” Allophane murmured.
“This needs to be a private conversation.” Beryl stepped into the laboratory and yanked the door from Allophane’s tight grip. Once the door was closed, Beryl whirled to face her again. “This isn’t the time to wallow in emotion. The deaths of the queen and king will throw the nation of Oz into chaos.”
“Excuse me for taking a moment to grieve the passing of a good person.” Allophane glared at Beryl.
“If Pastoria was good, he would have put aside his own grief to care for his child and his people,” Beryl snapped. “Instead, he wallowed so deeply he died of a broken heart. He is at fault for the current crisis!”
“I don’t wish to argue about this right now.” Allophane looked over her shoulder at the mess in her laboratory. “Give me an hour to clean up here. I’ll have Jamina and Jellia pack one bag each for us.”
“We’re not taking a proper carriage?” Beryl’s expression turned from her typical haughtiness to outright annoyance.
“This is too important for a three day trip to the capital,” Allophane pointed out.
“Not all of us have adorable silver shoes with which to travel in an instant,” Beryl sneered.
Allophane lifted her right eyebrow. “I told you I’d help you enchant a pair.”
Beryl made a very unladylike sound deep in her chest. “Fine. I’ll make my maid packs appropriate mourning clothes.”
“Her name is Jellia,” Allophane retorted. “She’s more than a maid.”
“I don’t know why you care so much about servants.” Beryl yanked the laboratory door open and flounced out of the room.
“Because you don’t,” Allophane whispered.
And suspicion at her sister protector’s behavior dropped a seed in her heart. What if Pastoria’s death wasn’t from simple heartbreak?
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