Alchemised

by SenLinYu

She thought at first if she waited long enough, some glimmer of light would appear, or someone would come. Yet no matter how long she waited, there was nothing. Just endless dark.

Helena remembered that detail. Remembered that she’d been placed there as a prisoner, kept preserved, but someday, someone would come for her.

Waiting for someone to come for her. No one ever did.

“Mhmm. And the war. I’m sure you remember that. Did you help the Holdfast boy burn down the city? Your darling Luc, as you all liked to call him?” Helena’s throat tightened. “I didn’t—fight.”

“I believe she was a healer,” he said quietly as he returned his attention to his case. Helena fought back a wince.

Yet there was something hidden, changed about her. A secret so painstakingly concealed, Helena could not even guess at what it was.

Luc, who’d gone up onto the roof of the Alchemy Tower the night before becoming Principate, standing alone on the very edge. Helena had followed him and stood as close as she dared, promising him that she would do anything for him if he would just step back and take her hand. He hadn’t listened, not until she swore that if he jumped, then she would, too. He’d stepped back to save her.

It also made Spirefell the perfect trap. If anyone tried to save Helena, they would assume they were attacking a guild heir; they’d have no idea who her captor truly was.

As she looked down, she discovered scars that she had no memory of.

“You’re scared of the dark?” His silver eyes were burning, his voice thick with disbelief.

I kept thinking that eventually someone would come but—” She shook her head. “When I see dark places and I don’t know where they end, I feel like I’ll disappear inside them, but this time, I’ll never be found.”

HE ALWAYS COMES FOR YOU. HE COULDNT FIND YOU

What could she have possibly known that would need to be hidden like this?

He had to have some kind of weakness she could exploit. Kaine Ferron, where is the chink in your perfect armour?

you babe. it's you

When she reached the courtyard, Ferron appeared on the veranda, observing her like a scientist with a test subject.

“I hate you,” she rasped out, and let him feel every ounce of her loathing. If there was a time to provoke him, it was surely now. During a procedure this dangerous, he couldn’t afford to make any mistakes, but she couldn’t move. I hate you. Traitor. Coward. I hate you.

He touched her jaw, and she felt warmth under her skin where the muscles were so rigid that they might crack, coaxing them to relax.

She pressed her face into the warmth of the hand, wanting to cry.

Who are you?” she slurred through her teeth. Myriad emotions flashed across his face. He opened his mouth, then shut it firmly. “I’m in charge of your care,” he finally said very slowly, saying each word precisely. His hand slid across the side of her neck, making her tremble. His fingertips touched the dip at the base of her skull. “Go to sleep. You’ll remember when you wake.” Helena wanted answers, not sleep, but the warmth seeped under her skin like water. The room blurred, the edges disappearing. The face softening as it faded away. “Do I know you?” she asked as her eyes slid closed. “I suppose you do.”

She was not so foolish as to mistake calculation for kindness.

“If he wanted handmade paper clips, I’d do that with equal devotion.”

He wasn’t even looking at his wife anymore. His gaze passed over Aurelia’s head, staring at a mirror that reflected himself and Helena.

“The world already knows she’s mine,” Ferron said, his words pointed, “but if you’d like, I can remind them. I wouldn’t want you to think I’m hiding anything, my dear.”

The creature was still snarling, and then a low gusting howl emerged, a sound like moaning wind.

Then Lumithia rose. She was a waning crescent, but still more than double Luna’s size and so bright it hurt to stare directly at her. She ascended into the sky like a white sun, the constellations vanishing behind her light until only the planets and a few stars remained visible in the black abyss of sky. Glimmers fine as diamond dust.

Ferron drifted towards her. His gaze seemed to be cataloguing her, as if there was a checklist he was reviewing. He idly pulled his gloves off, pocketing them.

Ferron laughed, his lips close enough to her neck that his breath ran down her spine. “And here I thought you’d use poison,” he said, his voice mocking.

The Resistance terrorists believed to have been wiped out had reappeared in a spectacular manner, before an audience that could not be as easily cowed into silence as the national press was.

His silver-white hair became the only thing visible in the dark. She reached out, trying to ground herself by finding a wall to touch.

He wouldn’t let go.

“Are you wanting a confession?” he finally asked. “Shall I tell you everything I’ve done?”

A question rose to her lips, and she felt as if it was vital that she ask. She leaned forward, trying to see his face. “Do you want to?” He was silent for a long moment, and then stood without answering, pulling her to her feet. Her body was half numb, and he had to nearly carry her the rest of the way to the motorcar.

“Ferron, will you come here?” The maid stared at her, and then looked away, leaving without acknowledgement, but that evening as she was picking at her dinner, the door opened and Ferron entered. “You called?” His tone was sardonic.