Page 47 of Alchemised
“You’ll regret this. The High Necromancer will remember that you did not volunteer yourself.”
“The High Necromancer knows exactly where I am and what I’m doing. If he wants something, he won’t have it relayed by the likes of you. After all, how many times did you manage to fail him to be banned from receiving a corpse with iron resonance? Was it the second time or the third?”
There was a snarl, followed by the sudden scream of metal and a thud. She peeked out again. Atreus was on the ground; one of the bars of iron in the floor had caught around his leg, pulling him back towards the main wing of the house.
He was clawing at the ground, scrabbling, trying to escape but only succeeding in nearly ripping his fingers off. Atreus screamed with rage, mouth frothing, the noises practically animal.
Ferron idly followed. “I’d be careful with that corpse. Pyromancy is a rare ability, you know. Give yourself a few more months, and I’m sure you’ll manage a spark.”
HELENA SCUTTLED BACK TO HER room once they were gone; just a glimpse of the house in action had made her far more wary. She’d understood in theory that it was malleable, but seeing the reality of it turned every bit of wrought-iron filigree ominous.
It was not her imagination: The house was almost alive.
And so was Atreus—or reanimated. She would have sworn he’d been executed before the Undying had appeared.
She kept trying to piece together the bits and pieces of her missing memories, but it was difficult to know if she’d forgotten something or never been informed in the first place. After all, a healer didn’t merit much in the way of security clearance. Her only knowledge of the battles and military strategy was trying to staunch the sea of blood that followed.
Despite knowing how dangerous it was, she couldn’t help but try to unravel the mystery of what she’d forgotten. Her mind itched for context. Yet she was playing a cat-and-mouse game with Ferron, and her ignorance was her only defence. But it didn’t feel protective. It felt like walking blind, with her skin sheared off.
Her mind circled relentlessly, treating every new piece of information as a potential clue, turning it one way and then the other, trying to see if it fit into any of the gaps. What could she have possibly known that would need to be hidden like this?
Stop thinking. She slotted her feet under the wardrobe and began doing sit-ups until her abdominal muscles burned. Lila used to do it in their room when she was anxious and off duty.
Helena needed to focus on Ferron, on finding some way to provoke him into killing her.
He had to have some kind of weakness she could exploit.
Kaine Ferron, where is the chink in your perfect armour?
As if on cue, the door opened, and he walked in.
He stared down at where her feet were tucked under the wardrobe and the way she was laid out, panting from exertion.
“You’ve found something to do with yourself, I see.”
She forced herself to roll over and stand, biting back a wince when she pushed herself up.
He was early for their walk, and this aberration in the daily routine made her suspicious.
“Come here,” he said, withdrawing a vial containing several small white tablets, watching her reaction to it.
“What are those?” she asked when he unscrewed the top and tapped one out.
He raised an eyebrow. “I’ll tell you if you swallow it like a good girl.”
Helena pressed her lips tightly together.
Despite healers generally lacking formal medical training, Helena was intimately acquainted with medicine. She knew very well the power and danger in something as innocuous as a small white tablet.
“You know I’m not going to kill you,” Ferron said, his eyes glittering with amusement. “After all, if I were, you’d feel obliged to come running.”
Helena glowered at him. Poison was only one of the innumerable possibilities.
Ferron didn’t give her an opportunity to choose between compliance and resistance. His resonance settled in her bones and pried her mouth open. He lifted her chin with a finger and dropped the tablet onto the back of her tongue, forcing her to swallow.
It slid like a pebble down her oesophagus.
She expected him to release her immediately, but instead he pulled off his gloves and took her face in his hands, fingertips pressing along her jaw.
