Alchemised

by SenLinYu

“You know,” Ferron said, jolting her from her thoughts, “when I heard it was you I’d be getting, I was looking forward to breaking you.” He shook his head. “But I don’t think it’s possible to exceed what you’ve done to yourself.”

“I should have refused your mother’s pleas and had you killed in the womb,” Atreus said, his face contorted with rage. “You deserve none of the suffering we endured for you.” Ferron seemed unfazed, even slightly bored. “A pity you didn’t, if it would have spared me this tedious conversation.”

Helena just looked at him. She thought she should say something. What she’d tried to tell Lancaster. “Ferron always comes for me,” she whispered. He stopped short. His jaw locked, fists clenching, saying nothing for a moment. Then his throat dipped, and he sighed.

She stared out the window at the enclosed courtyard, her inescapable prison, pressing her trembling hand against the cool glass and iron lattice, reaching for the power that was no longer there. There was nothing. It was gone, like everything else. She gave a broken, despairing sob and then drew her head back and smashed it against the glass and iron as hard as she could. She did it again. And again. There was blood streaming into her eyes, but she kept going.

“Yes, I remember Ferron,” she said, realising that Ilva was waiting for an answer. “Kaine Ferron has offered to spy for the Resistance,” said Crowther.

“He wants you, Marino,” Crowther said. “Both now and after the war.”

“I must admit,” he said in a low voice as though making a confession, “if anyone had told me you’d become so lovely, I would never have come near you. I was rather blindsided when I saw you again.” Her eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “You’re like a rose in a graveyard,” he said, and his lips twisted into a bitter smile. “I wonder what you could have turned into without the

“I can’t—I can’t—” he kept saying over and over. Helena didn’t know what to do. She ran her fingers through his hair and just held him. “I can’t—I can’t do this again—” he finally gasped out. “I can’t care for someone again. I can’t take it.”

“What do they want?” His voice was almost a whisper. She looked back. “What?” “Is it—actual crawling? Or was there something more constructive Ilva had in mind?” Her throat closed. “I—I’d have to ask.” “Find out. I’ll do it.” He looked exhausted, but now there was an edge of something seething in him.

“After you nearly bled to death here, I thought, at least I can keep her alive. She deserves to have someone who cares enough to try to keep her alive.

“I’m sure there’s something poetic in it all, but right now all I feel is a new set of manacles.” He let go and stepped away from her, heading for the door. “So forgive me if I dislike looking at you. I’m still adjusting to the ways these new ones chafe.”

A pale, long-fingered hand dripped red with blood as it pulled out a gleaming piece of metal from Blackthorne’s chest cavity.

“She’s dead,” he said. “You are not. My loyalty was to those least responsible for her suffering, but if the Eternal Flame has decided that you are an affordable casualty, I will not be noble or understanding. I can exact dual revenge. I will make them pay if they get you killed.”

He wouldn’t let go. He gripped her tighter. “You are not expendable. You don’t get to push everyone away so that they’ll feel comfortable using you and letting you die.”

“Well, thanks to you, I’m worth less now. They added all these new healers after you asked for me. I had to train all my replacements.” She gave a bitter laugh. “You made me as expendable as I am now. And you didn’t even want me, either.”

“You are not replaceable,” he said, his hands trembling against her shoulders. “You are not required to make your death convenient. You are allowed to be important to people. The reason I’m here—the reason I’m doing any of this—is to keep you alive. To keep you safe. That was the deal.” He searched her face. “They didn’t tell you.”

He touched her cheek, tilting her face up and kissing her. “Use the ring, call me, if you ever need anything.”

“I think I’ve nearly memorised you,” she said. “Especially your eyes. I think I learned to read them first.” The corner of his mouth twitched, and he caught her hand, capturing it against his chest. “I memorised yours, too,” he said after a moment, and then sighed, looking away. “I should have known—the moment I looked into your eyes, I should have known I would never win against you.”

He pulled her close, crushing her to his chest. “You’re mine. You swore yourself to me. Now and after the war. I’m going to take care of you. I’m not going to let anyone hurt you. You don’t have to be lonely. Because you’re mine.”

She reached out, her fingers brushing back his hair. “Don’t worry. I’m always going to come back to you.”

“Don’t go,” he said softly. “You know I have to.” He shook his head. “No, I don’t. They don’t care about you.”

She missed Kaine. Whenever she thought of him, she felt as though a piece of her was missing.

Kaine took her hand. “You can run. Say the word, and I’ll get you out.”

“I thought you said if I ever burned you—” He captured her hand and pulled her close. His other hand slid possessively up her throat, fingers tilting her head back, and he kissed her, long and deep, before he drew away to meet her eyes. “Call me, and I will come.”

She was almost asleep when she heard the faint whisper of his voice. “I’m going to take care of you. I swear, I’m always going to take care of you.”