Page 53 of Heir of Autumn
I tittered, my blood and my muscles still electrified, thinking how cheesy it would be if he’d added that I’d also captured his heart. And instead of formulating something beautiful and perfect to say, something to encapsulate the moment, my stupid mouth blurted out the first thing that came to mind.
“You know, I think your mother tried to kill me earlier today.”
Sylvain only laughed. “I did warn you, didn’t I?”
22
We awokethe following day feeing refreshed, which surprised me, considering how thoroughly Sylvain had ravaged me that night. His words, not mine. His private garden was even lovelier by daylight.
I would have loved to sleep in, to doze a little, but there was work to be done. We came to the Verdance with a purpose, after all. Following a proper bath and an invigorating breakfast of fresh fruit and flowers, we headed to the laboratories of the court alchemists. Satchel came, too.
Strange liquids gurgled and bubbled in even stranger vessels, a network of glass gourds, phials, and pipes working together in the noble name of alchemy. Magical chemistry, potion-making, call it what you like. The alchemists of the Autumn Court were very well-equipped. And quite friendly, too.
The noises reminded me of when I’d nearly drowned in the Oriel of Water, a memory that managed to be both frightening and exhilarating. I still hadn’t untangled the mystery of how I’d managed to breathe saltwater.
Hell, I’d even considered dunking my head in a basin full of water just to see what would happen, only it was such a ridiculous notion. I must have cast the water-breathing spell more effectively than I thought, its magic clinging to me even after I lost my amulet. Nothing more, nothing less.
I nodded along politely as Dulcifer lectured and gesticulated, Sylvain’s favorite among the royal alchemists. I realized how impolite it was to only go through the motions of listening. I wrinkled my forehead, determined to pay attention.
“Your John Dee, your Nicolas Flamel, your Paracelsus? Brilliant minds. Yes, even we have the humility to confess that humanity made its own strides in alchemy. Back when travel was still freely permitted through the membrane, between our worlds, who was to say that fae and human alchemists alike did not trade in secrets?”
I beamed, understanding instantly why Sylvain liked him and his laboratory. A rare instance of another fae who not only tolerated humans and our culture, but even admired us.
Though to be fair, almost everyone I’d met in the Verdance had been kind to me so far. The palace servants were a given, possibly fearing for their job safety. The courtiers needed to show face and play by the rules of fae etiquette. Though of course, there was the matter of the queen and princess who’d basically threatened me.
Okay, so maybe not everyone had been very nice. Not in a genuine sense, at least. That made Dulcifer a damn gem as far as I was concerned.
“It really is fascinating,” I told him, watching as his eyes bulged with interest through his jewel-tinted safety goggles. “One of my dearest friends is an alchemist by trade. Your equipment is so different, and yet still so familiar. It’s as if humans and fae had started their study of the art at wildly separate points, but somehow still arrived at the same destination.”
Dulcifer grabbed me by the shoulders, his face so close I could smell the odd sweetness on his breath. Was that caramel? Everything smelled so sweet in here, actually, deceptively so. I had to keep an eye on Satchel, make sure he wouldn’t chug anything down by accident. He would, too.
“You get it.” Dulcifer released me, then turned toward Sylvain, his graying hair sticking up in places, the very picture of a mad scientist. “He gets it, Prince Sylvain. Where did you find such a fine, intelligent specimen?’
I felt myself blush and chuckled nervously. Me, fine and intelligent? Hey, I was happy to take the compliment.
“Lochlann is a rarity, I think,” Sylvain said, grinning as he leaned against the wall. “His curiosity often brings us close to danger.”
“You know that’s not true,” I grumbled. Okay, maybe it was a little bit true.
“Ah, but curiosity is a virtue, something to be proud of, for certain. And what’s life without a little bit of danger?” Dulcifer thumped his chest, showing off the old scorch marks on his leather apron. “Behold. My battle scars. Don’t try to tell an alchemist about danger, sweet Prince Sylvain, and definitely don’t do it to your fine, handsome human here.”
“Careful there, Dulcifer,” Sylvain teased. “You get any more complimentary than that and I might start to think that you’re trying to steal my little human away from me.”
I bit down on my tongue, trying my best to stop the reddening of my face. I couldn’t decide if I was more embarrassed by Dulcifer’s exuberant proclamations or Sylvain’s possessiveness.
Dulcifer sighed. “My wife does tell me that I am far too friendly at times, that it borders on flirtation. Imagine that, a man who flirts with flirtation itself. A recipe for disaster, both in the laboratory and the bedroom.”
Sylvain clucked his tongue and shook his head, but the smile he saved for Dulcifer was fond. “You’re a silly, strange man, Dulcifer.”
Those were just some of the words I might use to describe the royal alchemist. Dulcifer looked like a man in his forties, handsome in a scruffy sort of way, someone who forgot to shave and brush his salt-and-pepper hair because of his obsession with his work.
Constant exposure to caustic and volatile concoctions probably didn’t help, either, explaining the scorch marks on his apron and the mild singing on the ends of his beard. I couldn’t say what color his eyes were, hidden behind the curious emerald of his goggles.
More than anything, though, here was a man who wasn’t necessarily part of Sylvain’s family, but who treated him with just as much acceptance. The non-family part was pretty important, though. I liked Dulcifer enough and had to hope that he wouldn’t end up threatening me at some point in the day, too.
As casual and candid as Dulcifer seemed, it was clear that he and his assistants took their work very seriously. The phials of Wispwater we’d delivered were already arranged neatly around the lab, secreted along the shelves and secured in cabinets.
“Silly and strange I may be, Prince Sylvain, but that is to be expected in my line of work, after all. I believe one of those human scribes put it best, if I may be allowed to paraphrase. Genius cannot exist without a touch of madness. And it certainly takes a touch of madness to deal with something as atrocious as this Withering.”
