Page 29 of Alchemised
She leaned against the door, palms and fingers tracing the grain of the wood as the enclosed space settled around her.
Helena was surprised to find the room like hers. Two windows. A bed and wardrobe, but a desk and chair rather than an armchair. It could have belonged to an ascetic.
She went to the desk by the window. There was a neat stack of paper.
She lifted the top sheet of paper, holding it up in the dim light to see if Ferron’s correspondence might have pressed through to the lower page, but the paper was thick and pristine. She ran her fingers across the surface of the desk; there was delicate silverwork across it, intricate leaves and vines set in the wood with perfect alignment. Undoubtedly the work of a talented silver alchemist.
The desk was perfectly maintained. A stark contrast with the cobwebs coating the iron filigree throughout the rest of the house.
She turned away, tense and trapped inside a room she was nearly certain she was not supposed to be in. She doubted she could make it back to her own room, and if Aurelia caught her disobeying, she was sure to do something nasty.
But what might Ferron do when he found her? Would intruding into a locked room merit lethal punishment? She doubted he was that impulsive, and if Stroud knew so many vivimancy punishments that weren’t technically torture, Ferron undoubtedly did, too.
Her mouth went dry.
She still didn’t know what transference would entail. Despite the frequent references made to it, no one had explained to her what Ferron would be doing. Helena could only guess based on the comments Shiseo had made, even though they made no sense because Helena had been the one who’d healed General Bayard when he was first injured. She’d tested the limits of her knowledge and abilities trying to save him, painstakingly regenerating the damaged brain tissue. When he’d survived, people had called it a miracle, declaring Helena’s hands to be blessed by Sol.
That praise had ended when General Bayard woke. He was like a child. A huge, powerful general with the emotions of a toddler. A once brilliant tactician who couldn’t find his way through a door without help.
Helena had saved his body and learned the bitter lesson that a mind was a thing apart and she had not saved it. She’d tried and failed for years to fix what she’d done. Somewhere in the hidden spaces of her memory, Elain Boyle had materialised, a cure in hand, a procedure then used on Helena as well. Now the Undying had learned of it.
The door clicked, breaking Helena from her thoughts. She turned as Ferron strode in. His hand was at his throat, pulling the collar loose.
He stopped short at the sight of her.
“Well,” he said, “this is a surprise.”
CHAPTER 5
HELENA SAID NOTHING. SHE HAD NO IDEA what to expect or what to do, so she watched Ferron like a cornered animal.
His eyes flicked from her to the door.
“Aurelia brought you here, I presume.” He sighed. “I suppose it is time that we begin.”
He came forward. Helena stiffened, but he strode past her to the wardrobe and jerked it open.
Apparently, he was not quite an ascetic. The door of the wardrobe held an entire row of decanters. He snatched one up and poured several fingers of amber liquid into a tumbler before turning back, taking a long sip as he stared at her over the glass, his gaze starting at the floor and working slowly up.
His attention turned away when he reached her shoulders. He looked down at the tumbler with another sigh as if the situation were deeply inconvenient for him.
“Let’s get this over with.”
Helena didn’t move.
His gaze lifted. “Come here.”
When she didn’t obey, a slow smile curved along his lips. “I can make you, if you don’t.”
He raised his hand and gestured lazily, long fingers curling with perfect precision, knuckle by knuckle.
Helena’s limbs began moving against her will, like a puppet manipulated across a stage. Her legs bent, lifted, weight shifting, step, another step. She fought against it, tensing, but it only made her bones feel like they’d snap.
It stopped once she was within arms’ reach. He tilted her chin up with a fingertip, their eyes meeting.
“See?” he said. “It’ll be easier if you obey.”
She would have spat at him, but when she tried, her jaw clenched, teeth locking together. His eyes gleamed.
