Page 94 of Alchemised
“Yes, I did. Do you know why? Because she is the last member of the Order of the Eternal Flame, which means that she is important. Infinitely more so than you will ever be. More important than Lancaster dreamed. My job is to keep her mind intact. When your father had you educated, did he ever mention that the eyes have a nerve connecting directly to the brain? What do you think happens if you just rip them out?”
Aurelia glanced towards Helena in horror.
Ferron kept talking in his cold, unsympathetic voice. “I’ve tried to be patient with you, Aurelia. I’ve been willing to overlook your indecent behaviour and petty interferences, but do remember, aside from being somewhat decorative, you are useless to me. If you ever go near her again, or speak to her, or so much as set foot in this wing again, I will kill you, and I will do it slowly, perhaps over the course of an evening or two. That isn’t a threat. It’s a promise. Now get out of my sight.”
Aurelia scrambled up clumsily, her face contorted in fear and pain as she fled, limping, from the room.
Ferron stood, breathing deeply before he turned back to Helena. His eyes were still blazing silver.
He approached her slowly and knelt, turning her face up towards his again, studying her eyes. “The pupils are different sizes,” he said. “I’ll call a specialist. See if there’s anything else to be done.”
She stared back at him. He looked haggard, his skin pallid grey, his eyes too bright in contrast, but maybe it only seemed that way because of how her vision blurred.
“Were you in the house when you—” She gestured at the wreckage of the room.
He glanced over. “No. Or I might have managed it more neatly. I’d reached the edge of the property.”
“How—?”
He gave a tired grimace. “The ability came compliments of Artemon Bennet, although he didn’t have any idea at the time of what he was doing. It was intended to be a punishment.”
Helena’s eyebrows furrowed. She had no idea what could be done to make a person’s resonance so powerful that they could control iron from a distance like that.
“How could anything—?”
“I don’t want to discuss it right now,” he said, cutting her off.
There was a pause. She still felt like she should say something.
“How did you know I’d be able to fix my eye?”
“You were a healer.”
“Yes, but …” Her voice faded. She was unable to explain why she felt dissatisfied with the answer.
“Where did you learn to heal?” she asked, thinking back not only on how easily he’d imitated her directions but also how he’d dealt with Aurelia, and repaired the nerve damage on his own.
“Well, you see, there was a war, and I was a general. Picked up a few things.”
A headache was developing in Helena’s temples from her imbalanced vision.
“Well, you—you have a natural talent for it. In another life, you could be a healer.”
“One of life’s great ironies,” he said, glancing towards the door, his jaw tight.
The maid had returned carrying a satchel, the kind that field medics wore, strapped over the shoulder and belted at the waist.
Ferron took it, rummaging through the pockets. She heard the rattle and clink of glass vials.
“Just atropine?” he asked, looking towards her with a vial in hand.
She shook her head. “Five drops of atropine diluted in a teaspoon of saline.”
There was more tinkling, unscrewing, pouring, and then he pocketed something and snapped the satchel shut. The maid immediately took it back.
Helena started pushing herself unsteadily to her feet.
“I should—lie down so it doesn’t run,” she said. Her balance felt off and her hands and arms shook, refusing to bear her weight. She sank back to the floor. Perhaps she’d just lie there.
