Coming away with a scoop

Very well, Vrine said. Come with me to my chambers. Excellent, he said. He followed her through another hallway. She reached a door requiring a key, which she used, leading him in. He stopped the moment he was through. The chambers were dark, with shelves and shelves of jars, some having animal heads, others with animal limbs, many with liquids that he could not fathom. In the center of the room was a great cauldron, glowing green. Vrine closed the door, locking it, and then she circled around him, stepping behind the cauldron, a mirror behind her back that stretched to the ceiling. Wellington could see his reflection over her shoulder. Now, she said, looking at him, what did you learn from the stable girl? Wellington was breathing heavier. How was he to proceed?

Should he draw on her, demand answers? Or should he try to talk his way through? Was this woman truly a witch? Could she really control a dragon? She said, and I found it unbelievable, perhaps even untrue, that you were a witch, that you could control a dragon, that you might call for it to slay the prince. Vrine smirked. Go on. And she revealed to me that she impersonated Princess Celeste during the masquerade ball, and that she did not kill the queen, that Princess Celeste herself did that. Is that all? Actually— Vrine acted first. She grasped a vial of powder on the shelf nearest to her, throwing it down on the ground at Wellington's feet. Wellington was startled as it burst into green dust. His hand came to the pommel of the sword at his side, taking one step forward. Vrine's hands were already in the air. Vine, vine, grow and grow, and bind about the limbs of thy foe!

The green dust turned to vines, slithering and wrapping around his legs, tripping him, spreading up his body, wrapping around his chest and pinning his arms to his side, the sword clutched in his hand. He struggled to lift his head. Vrine came around the cauldron, looking down on him. You foolish, little man. Did you really think you could challenge Sorceress Vrine? The thought had crossed my mind, Wellington said. She laughed, and then she picked up a few golden hairs from the shelf, tossing them into her cauldron. She dipped a ladle into the bubbling liquid.

Wellington had no idea what she intended to do with it. He was terrified she was going to pour it on him, but then she splashed it on the great mirror, the liquid running down. Mirror, mirror, reveal to me the one I seek, The face of the king's child, her spirit, oh, so meek. Within the splashed liquid, an image appeared, the image of Sienna being led to the gallows. Vrine turned her head, smirking at him. Now, watch as the prince's precious little stable girl is hung until she is dead, and as you watch, quiver to know you will follow, and the prince will be on your heels this very night!