Page 185 of Alchemised
“You gave me to him,” she said, her voice full of fury. “Now, and after the war. Those were the terms. You said it was Ferron or lose, and so I chose him. When was he ever expected to let me go?”
She drew a shaky breath. “You said to make myself the mission for him. He is changeable right now, and this may be the only moment in which he ever will be. If you think what I’m doing is too dangerous, then give me a different option, because this is the only way I can give you what you asked for.”
She could see anger in Crowther’s eyes, but he said nothing.
What had he expected her to do? Had he really believed that vivimancy could create obsession in Ferron without a sense of need? That it was a faucet she could turn on and off? Did no one understand what vivimancy was?
Crowther sat staring at her, and she could almost see the pieces moving as he adjusted his strategy, weighing what to do. When he said nothing for several minutes, she eventually turned to leave.
The corridors of the Tower felt too warm and enclosed in the summer heat. Helena could barely breathe.
She went out onto a skybridge.
Down below, Luc and Lila were sparring against their unit while Soren was calling out critiques of their forms. A small crowd was gathered to watch.
Knowing Ilva, she’d probably told Soren or Lila to do something to preoccupy Luc and keep him from fretting over the West Port Lab.
Combat alchemy could be so beautiful, it was almost hard to remember the violence of its purpose, and the ceaseless ugliness left in its wake.
Helena watched, listening to the cheers below, heart aching.
She’d always thought that she could do anything for her friends. She didn’t need recognition, just the comfort of knowing she’d done what was necessary. Pragmatism had stolen away any lustre of heroism from her, and she kept telling herself it was all right …
But she was so lonely.
Her fingers wrapped around the empty amulet, the points catching on her palm. There was a dull sense of emptiness that never went away now, a slowly growing wound that she couldn’t heal.
She couldn’t fix herself anymore, and no one else seemed inclined to even notice she was breaking.
You are all alone, and when the war is over, you will still be alone.
She blinked as the figures below blurred into halos of gold and silver.
THAT NIGHT, SHE STUDIED THE array with a renewed sense of urgency. It had become a familiar sight, but when she paused to take it in, it was horrifically stunning. Designing it had required the work of a meticulous alchemist.
Which Ferron had been, prior to becoming an assassin.
She couldn’t imagine designing something so intricate, knowing that every line drawn would be an incision into her own skin.
“I think I can close the wounds soon,” she said.
He was silent for a strangely long time. “Really?”
His voice was so toneless, she couldn’t read his reaction.
“It will be experimental, the procedure,” she said as she applied ointment. “But I’m familiar with how your regeneration works now, and how it intersects with my resonance. There’s only one thing …”
He tensed. She watched the subtle ripple of his back, incisions widening.
“What?”
“The Abeyance. Resonance will be at its lowest ebb. It would make working with the lumithium in the alloy on your shoulders easier, but I’m not sure if completing the array with its effects reduced is safe or not.”
“It shouldn’t matter, but with low ebb, I’ll regenerate slower.”
“That’s fine. Preferable actually.”
She was at the door when he spoke up behind her. “Marino.”
