Page 79 of Alchemised
No hint of breathing. He was completely still.
He jerked, a garbled gasp rattling in his lungs as his chest began pulsing. He convulsed as though drowning, coughing up blood, as he pushed himself off her.
“I-I will not f-fail you, I swear.” His voice shook, barely more than a whisper, and he rose unsteadily back to his feet.
“Be sure that you don’t,” was all Morrough said.
Ferron reached down, fingers spasming as he pulled Helena up from the ground again. Her head lolled back.
“Watch her carefully. The Eternal Flame will come for her soon, I am certain of it.”
“I will die before I lose her,” Ferron said, his grip tightening.
“I want them alive this time, High Reeve. These last embers who dare mock me. You will bring them to me, to kill at leisure.”
“You will have them. As I have given you all the rest.” Ferron’s voice had grown steadier. He bowed low.
Helena craned her neck, peering through her swimming vision at the green, rotted faces visible on the throne, terrified of how many she’d recognise if she could see them clearly.
She tried to rip herself free, but she couldn’t escape. Ferron squeezed harder as he dragged Helena out of the hall, pulling her through winding tunnels, not stopping even when her legs failed, feet tripping. He wouldn’t let go.
Finally he stopped and, without releasing her, allowed Helena to slide to the floor. She crumpled, gasping, still struggling to breathe. The air was cleaner, damp and swampy, but there was no more scent of blood. The stones in the tunnel were dry.
Her head hurt so much that trying to think was like touching a raw wound, but she had so many questions.
“I—” Her throat closed, convulsing. “I—attacked a prison?”
“It was after the final battle,” Ferron said, sounding far away. “Seems you were captured after levelling more than half the West Port Laboratory. You’d disguised yourself as a Hevgotian during the attack, and then disappeared into that tank afterwards, resulting in contradictory reports. The investigation was considered inconclusive until my father realised where he recognised you from. He was present that night.”
She shook her head. “I was a healer,” she said. “I wasn’t—they didn’t let me fight.”
Ferron said nothing.
She still didn’t understand. “And Lila was there?”
“Yes.”
“But she was dying when you—caught her.”
“The West Port Laboratory was Bennet’s experimental research site.”
A low sound of horror tore from Helena. She doubled over, retching. Ferron had to prop her up.
“Drink this,” he said, pressing a vial of something into her hand. “It’ll help.”
Helena’s hand shook, but she swallowed without question. There was nothing he could give her that could make things worse. Instead pain relief so bitter it was mouth-numbing washed across her tongue. She sat breathing unsteadily as it took effect.
She tried to focus but felt concussed. With brain injuries it was important to remain conscious. Conversing was supposed to help, keeping patients talking. She kept herself talking.
“Did this happen to you?” Her tongue was sluggish. She felt Ferron look at her, his pale eyes gleaming briefly in the darkness.
“More than once …” he said after a long silence. “My training was rigorous.”
“Why?”
He shifted, muffling a low groan. “To see if I’d be better than my father, or if I’d break under interrogation, too.”
She furrowed her eyebrows. “Was that—before you killed Principate Apollo?”
