Page 119 of Alchemised
Alister shifted and forced a smile. “It was a joke. I think we’d all be acting just like her if we needed a hearing to resume combat. I just don’t know why she’s worried. She could have lost an arm, too, and she’d still fight better than most of us.”
Soren relaxed, rolling his eyes, but Luc stared stonily at the fire.
Penny Fabien had shifted her legs to the side and, meeting Helena’s eyes, patted a spot next to Luc, but Helena hesitated.
Sit there and in a matter of days, Ilva Holdfast would call Helena in “just for a chat,” and during the conversation she’d make a series of remarks about how tenuous things presently were. About the need to make sacrifices, and how sometimes caring about someone meant staying away from them. She would talk about loyalty, how the members of the Eternal Flame had followed the Holdfasts for generations. The Principate was held to certain standards, and it would be devastating to the cause if their faith in Luc was shaken; if he seemed to prioritise others more than them.
Helena shook her head, mumbling something about finding Lila as she backed away.
The next room was quieter, filled with more severely wounded convalescents. They paid no attention to her.
Sitting among them was former general Titus Bayard.
Although he’d never been a paladin himself, he was taller and broader than his brother, with a wide forehead filled with furrows and creases. He’d served as military commander for the Eternal Flame for most of Luc’s life, training and approving new members, including his own children, choosing their positions and combat designations.
Now, with that same intense care and concentration, he very slowly wound a ball of yarn in his huge hands.
“Hello, Titus,” Helena said in a low, even voice, kneeling beside him. “It’s Healer Marino, do you remember me?”
He gave no indication of hearing her. He only ever minded Rhea.
“Do you mind if I look at your brain? Won’t hurt a bit, just a little touch.”
He gave a noncommittal grunt. She slipped a glove off and reached out, fingers trailing along the wide scar that started at his temple and disappeared into his hair. Her resonance unspooled from her fingertips like tendrils of energy cast in a net, examining the tissue and bone and into the brain, looking desperately for any signs of change.
Everything was the same.
There was almost nothing wrong with Titus physically. Even his brain showed little sign of anything being wrong with it except inactivity. All the carefully, perfectly regenerated tissue Helena had spent shift after shift reconstructing had saved his life but trapped him inside his own mind. She didn’t know how to get him out. If he was even still in there.
“You’re very strong,” she said conversationally as she smoothed his hair to conceal the scar again.
His concentration on the ball of yarn broke off briefly so he could give her a grimacing smile. Their eyes met, and she felt the same pang in her chest again, an overwhelming desire to tell him, I’m sorry. I was trying to save you. I didn’t mean to do this to you.
“Helena.”
Her stomach clenched in dread as she turned to face Rhea Bayard. Titus’s wife was a tall woman with raven-like features, all long and sharp, and deep-set green eyes that Soren had inherited. According to the stories, she’d been an alchemist at the Institute, and a good one, but she’d retired to marry and have children.
“You came in so quietly, I didn’t realise you were here. Have you already seen Titus?” Rhea was smiling, but it was strained.
Helena knew when she received the invitation that this was why she was invited. Rhea lived in the desperate hope that eventually Helena would find a way to heal Titus. She used to bring him to the hospital constantly, even after everyone else had given up, convinced that with time and new science, someone with Helena’s abilities could restore him.
Helena had been afraid that Rhea would blame her for failing to heal Titus, but her enduring conviction that Helena would find a cure felt worse at times.
“Yes, just now,” Helena said, even though she knew that wasn’t what Rhea was really asking. “You take such good care of him.”
Rhea’s smile faded when Helena added nothing else. She looked down, twisting her fingers.
“Good. Good. Yes. That’s good to hear.” Rhea cleared her throat as she stepped over to a shelf and took a package down, holding it out. “I’m glad you came. You missed the earliest festivities, but this one’s for you.”
Helena stared at the outstretched gift, her face growing hot. “Oh, but I didn’t—I didn’t realise there’d be—presents. I didn’t bring—”
“You keep my children alive. We’ll call it even.”
Helena sat down and pulled off the paper string, opening it. Inside the package lay a knitted green pullover, intricately made with raised patterns reminiscent of alchemy symbols. “Oh. This is beautiful. This is too much; I can’t take something like this.”
Rhea seemed pleased by how stunned Helena was. “I wasn’t sure about your colours, or your resonance aside from titanium, but Lila mentioned you like the barrens, so I thought the green would suit.”
“This must have taken so much time.”
