Page 97 of Alchemised
Stroud went to the door where the maid was waiting. “High Reeve, a word.”
Helena lay there, unable to move. Ferron wouldn’t let this happen. He’d spent months practising transference; Stroud couldn’t come and upend everything.
She tried to make herself breathe steadily. If she started hyperventilating, Stroud would probably sedate her or knock her out completely. What if she woke up back in Central, waiting for someone to come through the door to—
Her vision swam, terror crawling through her like insects.
What was she going to do? Try to argue that her memories were more valuable than a pregnancy?
If she had to choose one or the other, what was worse? Cooperating with Ferron’s extraction of the Eternal Flame’s secrets, or letting herself be raped to produce the child Morrough needed for his own transference?
Even if she did stop resisting transference, if she cooperated with Ferron, wouldn’t they just forcibly impregnate her afterwards?
“You called,” Ferron said as he entered, his tone clipped with irritation.
“High Reeve, yes, I wanted to inform you that I’ve been able to reverse Marino’s sterilisation. The High Necromancer wants her transferred into the repopulation program,” Stroud said.
Ferron’s expression did not so much as ripple, but he went uncannily still.
“You did what?” he finally said.
Stroud laid a hand proudly on Helena’s stomach. “You know how rare animancers are. If she really is one, it would be a waste not to use her. I’ve spent the last few months experimenting with a reversal process, and it’s finally complete. They were careless, really; they should have taken out the womb, although I would have replaced it if they had. I have plenty of healthy subjects to choose from. It was a relatively minor process compared with what Bennet and I used to do to the chimaeras.”
“You didn’t mention this.” Ferron’s voice had grown dangerous.
“The program is not your purview, and you talk so frequently of how fragile she is, I thought it better to wait until I was sure. However, the High Necromancer wants her enrolled immediately. The matter of transference will resume once we have the child. I suspect she’ll be much more cooperative about it then.” She looked down at Helena. “Won’t you?”
Ferron was silent.
“Now, I could take her back to Central. We have a long list of promising sires, and Marino here has such an unusual repertoire that we could pair her with practically anyone.” Stroud looked squarely at Ferron. “However …” Her voice was idle, meandering like a summer brook. “When it comes to resonance, there is one candidate who stands out from the rest.”
“Get to the point,” Ferron’s voice was flat, but Helena could hear murder ringing underneath.
Stroud straightened imperiously. “It’s time you had children. I know your family’s concern is with iron, but you have a wife for that. As our other animancer, the High Necromancer has chosen you to be the first to make an attempt with Marino here. If she becomes pregnant, we’ll look for signs of animancy. Your father was a great help in detailing your mother’s condition, so we know just what symptoms to look for. However, given how tight our timeline has become, the High Necromancer considers it best to keep alternatives under consideration. You’ll have two months to produce results, or she’ll be transferred to Central, and we’ll see if we have better luck with other candidates.”
CHAPTER 18
EVERYTHING AROUND HELENA BLURRED. STROUD REMOVED THE paralysis after Ferron icily excused himself, but Helena still didn’t move.
The grating, scratching sound of Stroud’s pen on paper was the only sound in the quiet room.
Helena’s mouth had gone parched, but she struggled to swallow, trying to think of some way to reverse what had so suddenly happened.
Her fingers flexed, running across the linen sheets as she tried to focus on external sensations. A half-whimpering rasp escaped her throat.
She thought she might scream. Just scream and scream and never stop.
“What’s wrong?” Stroud asked, glancing up from Helena’s medical file.
Helena stared at her.
“I would have thought you’d be pleased to have a break from transference. With the way you’ve been resisting, you’d likely have liver failure before the year’s out.” Stroud tapped absently on Helena’s file. “I’m very particular about the alchemists in my program. The war cost us so many priceless lineages. You should be grateful to still provide something with such lasting significance.”
“You’re having me raped, and you expect me to be grateful about it?” Helena’s voice was dead, coming from far away.
Stroud’s expression soured. “I’m giving you an opportunity for your life to mean something.”
Helena’s rage was the only thing keeping her from losing her mind. “If it’s such a great thing, it’s a wonder you don’t volunteer yourself.”
