After its founding, Paladia had courted foreigners from the world
over. The Holdfasts had wanted the Institute to be the alchemy capital
of the world, where alchemists of every kind might come and study and
share their techniques and methods. Paladia had quickly outgrown that
dream, though.
Especially once the Institute neared capacity, sentiments of welcome
soured.
After Principate Apollo's death, when talk of war began, Helena's
father had wanted to return south. He'd said it wasn't their fight, and his
responsibility was keeping her safe, but Helena had already promised
Luc she'd stay, and so her father had stayed because of her.
And died because of her.
She drew a sharp breath, tracing along the scar on her throat as she
stepped out of the shower.
As she towelled off, she froze at the sight of her reflection.
Since the meals had improved, she'd begun avoiding her reflection,
hating the changes she saw, as the version of herself that she knew van-
ished.
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Alchemised • 201
In her memories, she'd been gaunt from stress. Her skin sallow from
the absence of sunlight. Her nearly black hair always been carefully re-
strained by two tight braids coiled at the back of her head. Bony and
thin- limbed. Her eyes, large and dark, but with fire in them.
When she'd come to Spirefell, there was still something of that girl
in her reflection.
Now her face was no longer gaunt, or her cheeks hollowed, and her
eyes weren't sunken from exhaustion. Her colour had improved. With-
out a comb or ties for her hair, it hung loose, cascading past her elbows.
Her bones barely jutted out.
She looked healthy.
Pretty, even.
A Helena from a different life.
But her eyes—
Her eyes were dead. There was no fire in them.
The spark she'd once regarded as the most intrinsic part of who she
was had gone out.
She was a vibrant corpse, hardly different from the necrothralls
haunting Spirefell.
Ferron reappeared a day later while Helena was eating dinner.
He was wearing his "hunting" clothes, but they were clean, so she
assumed he was heading out rather than returning. She watched him
warily as he entered. Without his coat and normal layers, he was notice-
ably slender.
As he came closer, her eyes narrowed. His clothes were a dark grey,
made to blend into the city shadows, but there was a metallic sheen in
some places. It was most obvious over his forearms, chest, and legs.
A woven body armour. That was why she hadn't been able to stab
him.
He stopped in front of her, his expression unreadable, hands some-
where behind his back. "What made you realise?"
The tines of her fork caught against the plate. "Realise what? That
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202 • SenLinYu
Morrough's dying or that he's been creating the Undying as some sort
of power source?"
His mouth curved. "Let's start with the latter."
She looked towards the window. "Everyone always acted like the war
was inevitable, a part of the cycle in the eternal battle of good and evil,
but I just—never understood. Why did Morrough want Paladia? The
Council thought Hevgoss was involved, that they were creating a pre-
text for their military intervention so they could absorb Paladia into
their borders. But what did Morrough get out of it then? No one ever
seemed to wonder. There's just always an evil necromancer somewhere
that the Eternal Flame needs to kill. No one talks about why, what
could drive someone to that." She shook her head. "I just don't think
immortality seems like much of a gift, especially not one that someone
would give away like Morrough does, unless there was more of an ad-
vantage for him than everyone who got it. Things that seem too good to
be true usually have a price you don't know about until it's too late."
Ferron said nothing.
"Am I right?" she asked.
His expression and posture gave nothing away. "Does it matter?"
She looked away.
"Actually, I'll tell you . . . if you tell me what it was that ended up
being too good to be true for you."
She swallowed hard, staring at the mountains. "Paladia."
She drew a deep breath and looked at him. "Well?"
He met her stare, eyes glittering with a strange look of satisfaction.
"Yes, he's dying."
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CHAPTER 15
Helena's captivity sank back into monotony.
She only saw Ferron when he came to check her memory, and then
a few days later to perform transference again.
She didn't struggle. Her mind still felt tenuous as spider silk. She was
afraid that if she unravelled, Ferron would have free rein.
He didn't try to push into the hidden spaces but simply settled him-
self into the landscape of her mind and stayed there. He blinked, and
her eyes fluttered. Her left hand rose; she watched it open and close.
Her consciousness was split between herself and him, but with every
passing second, she felt more like him than she did herself. Slowly de-
voured.
She tasted blood.
It was streaming from her eyes and nose.
When it was over, she stayed limp where she was, head tilted back,
gazing at the ceiling until the necrothralls came and picked her up, put-
ting her to bed.
Because of her lack of resistance, she was only mildly feverish for a
few days. It seemed she was the animancer after all.
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204 • SenLinYu
The realisation lay like a stone on her chest. She'd been sure her
memory loss had been part of the Resistance strategy, intended to pro-
tect some vital secret for Luc. That it was something grandly self-
sacrificing that she had cooperated with, entrusting her mind and
memories to the mysterious Elain Boyle.
Had it just been her, hiding herself all this time? Was that all it was
in the end? Surely there was something, but nothing she remembered,
none of her glimmers of returning memory, hinted at anything of im-
portance.
Ferron was constantly busy, spending most of his time trying to hunt
down the last members of the Eternal Flame. When she did happen to
see him from the courtyard windows, he looked visibly ground down.
Sometimes he came back covered in blood.
She couldn't help but notice the strain around his eyes and the stiff
way he often moved.
She began to suspect that Morrough was torturing him regularly.
Since Ferron couldn't stay dead, Morrough got the pleasure of killing
him over and over.
He wasn't returning to house pale with fury; he was in shock from
torture. The symptoms showed more distinctly every time she caught
sight of him. It was as though he were mentally eroding as the physical
ramifications vanished.
She tried not to notice. When she couldn't help it, she tried not to
care.
He was trying to hunt down the Resistance. Every time he was tor-
tured was a sign he had failed. Hadn't she wanted him punished?
He'd chosen this, after all. Morrough was dying, and Ferron knew it,
and yet he still chose to serve him, carrying out everything that Mor-
rough now lacked the strength to do himself.
He deserved to suffer.
When she found spots of blood between her legs, she sat staring in
total incomprehension until it dawned on her that she was menstruat-
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Alchemised • 205
ing. Even the before the war, the stress of her scholarship had kept her
irregular. It had stopped completely after the assassination.
She'd forgotten that it was something her body was supposed to do.
When she'd been sterilised, Matias had wanted her womb removed,
but Ilva had insisted that the procedure be as non-invasive as possible.
A ligature. Which meant she could still bleed.
She shoved a cloth between her legs, and when her lunch was
brought, she had to ask the maid if she could have something for her
monthlies. If it had happened sooner, she might have enjoyed thinking
about Ferron's discomfort at being forced to deal with the reality of a
female prisoner, but now Ferron's discomfort was something she tried
not to think about.
Ten days after transference, when he came to her room to check her
memories again, he seemed less on edge. When he encountered Hele-
na's reluctant but fixated concern over him, he broke the connection.
She blinked and found him staring down at her.
"Worrying about me?" His face twisted into a gloating smile. "I never
thought I'd see the day."
Her face burned. "Don't take it as a compliment. I hate torture."
"What a saint," he said dryly, laying a hand across his chest. "I'm sure
sweet Luc would be touched by your tender heart."
"Don't use his name," she said sharply. "You were never his friend."
She sat up even though her head was still swimming.
He leaned against the bedpost. "You know, I wonder sometimes
who's responsible for more Resistance deaths, Holdfast and his morals
or me. What do you think?"
"It's not the same."
His fingers twitched. He almost managed to hide it by crossing his
arms. "Is there really a difference between having someone die for you
and killing them?"
Anger flared in her chest. "Yes. I'm sure you'd love to imagine there
isn't to soothe your conscience, but you are nothing like him."
He gave a thin smile. "I don't believe I have a conscience, but tell me,
do you wish I'd kept them alive?" He asked the question softly. "Leaving
the Eternal Flame members alive, letting people hope, would that be
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206 • SenLinYu
kinder?"
"They should hope, because there is someone out there. Someone
from the Eternal Flame that you haven't caught."
"Not for long."
The blood drained from her face. "Did you—?" Her voice shook.
He shook his head. "Not yet. But I can guarantee it." There was anger
in his smile. "Whatever happens to Morrough, the killer will be dead
and gone long before he is."
"You don't know that," she said fiercely.
"I do, though," he said, his expression so hard he could have been
carved from granite. "This is a story with only one ending. If your Re-
sistance wanted something else, they should have made different
choices. Perhaps some hard, realistic ones, and given up their fantastical
notions that the righteousness of their cause made their victory inevi-
table. They were fools, every one of them." He sneered. "If the gods were
real, they would have made Apollo Holdfast harder to kill."
Helena stared at him, watching the way his face twisted, the tangible
fury in his eyes.
"Who do you hate so much?" Until then, she hadn't realised the
depths of his anger. It was like the ocean that went on and on, and all its
promises were death.
He seemed briefly startled by the question, then his emotions van-
ished like a box snapped shut.
"Many people," he said with an insolent shrug. He smiled, mouth
curving like a scythe. "Most of whom are dead now."
Lancaster's visits to Spirefell resumed as winter faded. Helena
paid little attention. If there was any chance that he was a member of
the Resistance, Ferron would have gone after him by now.
When she heard frequent footsteps, she knew that the Ferrons must
be hosting some new event. The main wing of the house was bustling
with activity. New necrothralls were brought in, and the decaying
corpses constantly stationed outside the main doors were banished else-
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Alchemised • 207
where.
There were boxes of flowers scattered all over the foyer being ar-
ranged. They were shipped from somewhere farther south or grown in-
doors; Spirefell's garden beds were still bleak.
Helena calculated the date and realised that it was the vernal equi-
nox.
Aurelia would have a party.
There were large braziers set alight in the courtyard as the motorcars
began pulling in. Helena watched from a high window as the guests
emerged. It was a smaller party than the winter solstice. The solstices
were Paladia's most significant celebrations, while the equinoxes tended
to be heralded more in agricultural countries. Novis was said to have
grand parades each spring in celebration of the Tellus, the earth god-
dess.
When all the guests were inside, Helena waited for half an hour
before she slipped towards the main wing. The thralls were too busy
with the guests to supervise her, leaving only the eyes in the walls to
watch.
She could hear the voices before she reached the dining room. The
party sounded drunk. She crept into the next room. The voices were
muffled through the walls, but when she strained, she could still make
out the conversation.
"It's a ghost, I'm telling you. Holdfast has come back for vengeance.
No other explanation," came a loud slurred voice. "Straight through the
damned walls."
"Do shut up," drawled someone. "There's no such thing as ghosts,
you fuck."
"You wouldn't say that if you'd seen Vidkun. He'd bricked himself up
in his house with nothing but his thralls with him. A rat couldn't get in
there. How'd anyone kill him?"
"Just because you can't transmute anything that isn't half copper
doesn't mean the rest of the world can't. Everyone knows the Holdfasts
collected alchemists from all over. It's probably one of those freaks. Be-
sides, Vidkun was an idiot. He stayed home and lived alone. If you don't
want to die, just fuck someone in their bed instead of your own."
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208 • SenLinYu
There was braying laughter.
"Speaking of fucking," came a new, sly voice, "how many of you have
been to Central lately? Stroud show you the works?"
There was audible chuckling.
Helena went still, not even breathing.
"Always glad to perform my civic duty. Paladia can never have too
many alchemists," replied a leering voice.
"Stroud lets you have anyone you want?"
"Well," the sly voice replied, "it probably depends on your repertoire.
She'll give you a list of room numbers to choose from. There's this one
girl, pretty thing, scars weren't too bad. Little bitch managed to bite me,
but she was very cooperative after I broke her jaw. I told Stroud to let it
heal the old-fashioned way." There was a dramatic sigh. "I'll go back
again this week, make sure she's knocked up, and if not, I guess I'll try
again. I rather hope it didn't take, I think I'll like her better with her
mouth wired shut."
Helena felt as though someone had stabbed her. Pain twisted
through her chest and stomach.
"Is that all? I thought from the papers that there'd be more of a pro-
cess. I'll have to go see what I can get."
There was more laughter then.
"You been in, Ferron? With your repertoire, they must have you
working through every room."
Helena's mouth went dry.
"No," came Ferron's cold voice. "I've better things to do."
"Right, no need to commute to the city when you've got one here."
"The prisoner's not for that," Aurelia broke in. "We'll be done with
her soon, anyway. And really—she's nothing to look at. All she does is
skulk around like a rat. I had to threaten her just to make her wash."
"I saw the picture in the paper. Bit feral but I don't think I'd mind,"
the sly voice replied.
There was raucous laughter then.
"Have you noticed the flowers?" Aurelia asked loudly.
A woman's voice, much softer than the men's, replied, and then Au-
relia's voice dropped, too. Helena strained her ears but only made out a
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Alchemised • 209
few words about import taxes.
The conversation returned to the most recent murder.
"Ghastly. Couldn't even sleep after I saw him. Cut him to bits, sliced
so thin, light shines through the pieces. Stuffed it all down his throat."
"After, though? Right?" A new nervous voice. "He was already dead
when— "
"No, they did it before. He had the alloy in his blood. Blocked the
regeneration. Whoever we missed, they're psychotic."
"You've noticed the pattern, haven't you?"
There was a pause and uneasy muttering.
"The Celebration Purge," Ferron said when no one spoke. "The kill-
er's imitating the executions. Vidkun was a copy of Bayard and his wife."
"So it's all revenge then?" It was the nervous voice again. "Durant,
Vidkun, and all the rest, those are the Undying who were there that
night. The rest of us are safe."
There were murmurs of relief.
"Fuck . . ." came the sly voice. "That means they won't go after that
frigid little bitch. I was hoping she'd be next."
"Well, I'm not risking it," boomed another voice. "Just had a safe
room built. Inert iron and solid lead for the walls, ceiling, and floor. I'm
the only one with the combination. Nothing can get through that."
They spent a long time describing various precautions they were
taking— trick steps and hidden defences within their homes, all keyed
to their repertoires.
Helena tried to listen carefully, but the conversation splintered into
several smaller ones overlapping into an unintelligible murmur. Finally,
there came the sound of chairs moving, and Aurelia saying something
about flowers in the hothouse, and the voices dispersed into another
room.
Helena slid down against the wall, unable to do anything but sit
frozen with horror at the thought of everyone in Central.
There had been so many women in the Resistance. Not many in
combat, but everywhere else; they'd staffed the hospital, went to the
front lines as field medics and dragged the wounded bodies to safety,
operated the radios and relayed messages, washed and repaired the
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210 • SenLinYu
clothes and uniforms, and cooked the meals. All the ordinary tasks that
never ended, not even when a war began. It had been women doing
them.
They would have been in Headquarters, and they wouldn't have been
important enough to execute.
All this time, Helena had thought her imprisonment terrible. Now
she was left guilt-stricken by how little she'd had to endure.
The house was quiet, the conversation a buzz several rooms away.
She slowly headed back to the west wing, still in the stupor of horror.
She was almost around the corner when she heard footsteps pound-
ing behind her.
She turned just in time to see a blur. Something struck her.
The breath left her lungs as she was slammed to the ground, head
striking the wood floor. The world swung out of view, the arched ceiling
a cavernous maw hanging above her.
She lay half dazed, trying to breathe as the thing on top of her
righted itself, revealing the face of Lancaster.
"Got you," he said, panting, his weight pinning her in place. He
laughed quietly. "Who knew slipping off to take a piss would make me
so lucky? Ferron always has your wing crawling with his thralls. I didn't
know if I'd ever reach you. Had to get a party big enough to keep 'em all
busy."
His thumb dragged across her chin and cheek, his breath hot and
thick with wine. "Fuck. Look at you. You've filled out since last time."
Helena's head was swimming. Do something.
"If I was Ferron, I'd keep you chained to my bed." A hand slithered
down to her breasts, squeezing hard, and then harder. "You were sup-
posed to be mine. I'm the one who caught you while you were busy
gutting Atreus. When I saw you in the ruins of the lab, everything in
flames, the sky blazing, and all those thralls around you. You looked like
Lumithia born from fire."
Helena tried to shift and twist free but couldn't make her arms move
properly. She wanted to scream, but knew he'd smother the sound too
fast. She had to wait for the right moment.
He leaned close, whispering. "I should have been made Undying
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Alchemised • 211
then; they wouldn't have caught you without me. But you disappeared.
I won't lose you this time. We're finally going to have our fun."
Helena's heart was slamming against her ribs. She bit her tongue,
biding her time.
One chance.
"You've heard me scream plenty now," he said huskily. "I wonder,
what it sounds like when you do." He laughed softly. "I guess we'll have
to stay quiet for now. Don't want Ferron interrupting us again."
He reached into a pocket, fumbling as he searched for something.
Helena rammed her hips up, knocking him off balance, slamming
her elbow into his jaw. She scrambled up, pain searing through her
wrists as the core of the manacles bit against muscle and bone. Agony
lanced up her arms bright as fire.
She ran. The door at the end of the hallway was closed. Her hands
were on fire, and she could barely feel the knob, fingers fumbling, scrab-
bling for purchase.
Her head was wrenched back as she was dragged away by her hair.
Stars flashed in her vision, and an arm crammed hard over her mouth
when she tried to scream, a thick coat muffling her terror.
"Clever little bitch." He dragged her backwards a little farther and
jerked her head to one side. A needle sank into her neck.
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CHAPTER 16
Something wasn't right about this.
Helena's thoughts were dim, struggling to arrange themselves as she
was dragged across the floor and shoved into a dark corner.
"Don't make a sound," someone said.
A shadow closed in. A mouth pressed against hers, thick and wet,
the tongue pushing past her teeth until she choked on it. A sharp pain
consumed her lip, hot, salty blood filling her mouth.
"I've got to get the gate open. Wait here," said the shadow, but then
it lingered, closing in and around her throat.
Her fingers twitched, spasming. Sharp pain like a fresh wound radi-
ated up her arms as teeth sank into the side of her neck. Her body
jerked. A hand clamped over her mouth, muffling her scream.
The shadow finally let go. "Wait here. Don't make a sound."
She sat. Pain clustered along her neck and shoulders. When she
tried to brush it away, her hands grew sticky and wet.
A thought dangled just out of reach as she sat waiting in the dark.
The shadow came back. She tried to speak, but the shadow clamped a
hand over her mouth and dragged her outside. Both moons were nearly
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Alchemised • 213
full, hanging like two luminous disks in the black.
Her wrist was yanked, pulling her forward. Pain shot up her arm as
she stumbled.
She was dragged through the gravel as a strangled scream escaped
her. A gaping mouth loomed over her.
The gate. It was open.
"Almost there. Gods, I'm going to turn you inside out."
The shadow's face was close again. She could see it in the moonlight.
Red lips and teeth. Lancaster. A grin like a jackal.
She tried to speak. There was something she needed to say, but the
words wouldn't form. They were trapped, pulsing in her throat. There
was a sudden jerk. Her legs gave out as Lancaster vanished.
Then a loud crash.
She turned, eyes dazed, and found Lancaster crumpled against the
wall as Ferron stood over him, kicking so violently that bones cracked
each time.
Ferron picked up Lancaster by the throat until they were eye-to-eye.
The moonlight illuminated them both as if they were cast in silver.
"Going somewhere, Lancaster?"
Lancaster's lungs gave a wet rattle. "I assumed you wouldn't mind if
I borrowed her, seeing how you let Aurelia out to play. I'm the one who
caught her. She should be mine."
"She'll never be yours."
Without lowering Lancaster from where he was holding him, Fer-
ron shoved his hand into Lancaster's abdominal cavity as easily as if his
hand were breaking water. He pulled out Lancaster's organs, winding
them slowly around his fist.
Lancaster screamed, his legs thrashing.
Ferron drew out the intestines so far that they twitched, glittering in
the moonlight.
"If I ever see you again, I will strangle you with these," Ferron said in
a voice of deadly calm. "Pity you're not immortal yet. I could do it so
slowly then."
He dropped the intestines so that they hung down Lancaster's front
like watch chains, then pulled out a handkerchief and wiped his hands
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214 • SenLinYu
as Lancaster stumbled through the mouth of the gate, whimpering and
trying to stuff his organs back into his stomach.
When Lancaster had disappeared, Ferron turned towards Helena.
His face was rigid with fury.
"You idiot—why did you come out tonight?"
Helena just looked at him.
She thought she should say something. What she'd tried to tell Lan-
caster.
"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.
"What did he do to you?" he asked in a low voice, kneeling next to
her.
Helena looked down at herself. Her dress was ripped open, her
stockings shredded. All her things were ripped. There was blood and
white gravel all over.
Ferron reached out towards her, just barely touching her shoulder,
and she felt a little flush of warmth. She huddled towards him, but he
drew away.
"Drugged," he said. "Did he make you swallow something?"
She shook her head.
"An injection then. Let's go to your room." His eyes went briefly out
of focus, and then he helped her up to her feet. Helena gasped as pain
shot up her arms.
Ferron said nothing, but he draped his coat over her shoulders, cov-
ering up her ruined dress.
The necrothrall woman was in Helena's room with a bowl of water
and a cloth in hand.
"Clean her up," he said, going to the window, standing still as a statue
while the necrothrall led Helena to sit on the edge of the bed and began
dabbing at the gravel and blood.
The necrothrall's fingers were cold, and she smelled vaguely of raw
meat left out too long. Helena flinched away, but every time she shrank
back, the woman followed until Helena was trapped against the bed-
post. She started shaking.
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Alchemised • 215
"Stop," Ferron finally said, his voice tense.
Helena froze and so did the necrothrall, stepping back as Ferron
came over.
Helena stared at his shoes. They were so perfectly polished, they
shone.
"What's wrong?" he asked.
Lots of things were wrong. More things than Helena's brain could
presently remember.
"I don't like when people are dead," she said in a small voice.
He sighed and sat down beside her, taking the cloth away from the
necrothrall.
"I'm not going to hurt you," he said in a tense voice. He took her by
the shoulders, turning her towards him.
She knew he wouldn't. He only hurt her on certain days, and this
wasn't one of them, so she sat very still.
Moving slowly, he started along her shoulder, removing the bits of
white gravel and washing the wounds before his fingers brushed across
her skin. She felt a tingle of warmth as the skin knit together, regenerat-
ing into delicate new tissue. He worked across her shoulders and up her
neck, to her throbbing lip.
His lips were pressed into a flat line, his expression clinical and in-
tent.
When he finished, his attention turned to her hands. Her wrists
were throbbing, the skin hot and taut.
He turned one hand over. Her palm was scraped raw, pocked with
bits of gravel.
It took longer to fix her hands and wrists, and even when the cuts
were gone, they still hurt. He kept going over them, making her move
all her fingers.
He finally sat back and looked away. "Did he do—anything else to
you?"
She shook her head.
He exhaled slowly. He was staring across the room. "I'm required to
spend the next several days in the city. I think it's best that you stay in
your room until I return."
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216 • SenLinYu
Helena said nothing. Eventually he stood and left. She heard the
door bolt for the first time.
She sat staring blankly at the wall, not sure what she felt. Her mind
only seemed to work in fragments.
She was dirty.
She went and stood under the water, letting it stream hot down her
face and over her shoulders.
She still felt teeth sinking into her skin, the way the flesh tore under
the pressure. The places were still oversensitive. She wanted to stick her
fingers inside them and tear it all out.
She found a cloth. She scrubbed and scrubbed until all her skin was
so raw the water hurt.
There was a white flannel nightgown draped over the chair, and a
cup of tisane by the bed. She recognised the scent of chamomile, but
when she sipped it, it was bitter enough to make her tongue curdle.
Laudanum.
She drank all of it before sinking into a deep, empty sleep.
The mental fog was gone the next morning.
Her lungs contracted, chest heaving, panicking over what had al-
most happened, and her lack of comprehension at the time.
If Lancaster had gotten her out of Spirefell, what would he have
done to her? What would she have just lain there and let him do?
She huddled in a tight ball and didn't get up when she heard the
door unlock and the maid came in, setting the tray beside Helena's bed.
Breakfast and a pot of tisane with the recognisable scent of chamo-
mile. The maid poured a cup and then pulled out a small vial with a few
drops of reddish liquid inside.
She shook her head but regretted the choice once the maid was gone
and she was left with her thoughts.
She kept thinking about the girls in the repopulation program, lured
in by the promise of food and pardon.
If Helena hadn't been sterilised and missing memories, she'd be
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Alchemised • 217
there, too.
Compared with what the rest of the survivors suffered, Ferron was
almost kind. It was a such a horrible thought.
How was it that the High Reeve was somehow one of the least mon-
strous of the Undying? No. That wasn't true. She'd witnessed his killing,
watched him calmly unspool Lancaster's organs with his bare hands.
There was plenty of monster in Ferron, lurking beneath the surface.
Her head throbbed, and she closed her eyes.
The door was rebolted each time the servants left, and so Helena
made no effort to leave her bed. She lay curled beneath her blankets,
smothered in her despair, until the quiet was split by the sudden scream
of metal and the door burst open.
Helena shot up to see Aurelia stride in, a newspaper clutched in one
hand, the iron short staff in the other. There were several necrothralls
out in the hallway. They all moved to follow Aurelia.
Aurelia stopped short, turning back, then she gripped the staff, twist-
ing it against one of the iron bars running through the floor. The door
slammed shut, nearly severing one of the maids' arms. There was a grat-
ing sound of metal as the frame around the door warped, sealing the
room.
Aurelia turned back to Helena.
"Come here." Her voice was bright with anger.
Helena slipped out of bed and walked over without a word, heart
pounding.
Aurelia was pale. Brittle as a stalk of grass in midwinter. She was
impeccably dressed and groomed as always, but there was a sense of
unravelling about her. Her earrings, intricate little chandeliers of tiny
pearls, trembled.
"Did you know I was the third daughter my mother had?"
Helena didn't know anything about Aurelia.
"My family's been pure iron for nearly a century, had a guild member
in every generation, but we never got very high. It's hard, competing
with a family like the Ferrons. My father always said that in Paladia, you
have to be satisfied with scrap metal until you can make something of
it. We were going to make something of it."
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218 • SenLinYu
Aurelia drew a quick breath. "People thought there was something
wrong with Kaine when he was born. Thought maybe he was a Lapse,
or he didn't have iron resonance. No one was sure, just knew the family
was secretive about him. My father saw an opportunity. My mother and
father were cousins. He thought they could easily have a girl with pure
iron resonance, and the Ferrons would be desperate to marry Kaine to
her. To stay in control of the guild."
Aurelia gave a panting breath, her chest heaving.
"Mother said the first two were tiny. Little bits of things." Her blue
eyes shone. "My father paid a vivimancer to come in early to see if they
were girls, but when they didn't show any signs of iron resonance in the
womb, he didn't let her keep them. If they'd come to term, he said an-
other iron family might beat us to the marriage contract. I was the third
girl. My mother always said the first two babies were hers, and I was—
Kaine Ferron's. She burned them in the fireplace and buried the ashes
in the garden. Spent all her time out there with them."
Helena studied Aurelia in stunned sympathy, but that only seemed
to enrage her.
"I know you snoop. Have you seen this story?" Aurelia lifted the
newspaper up so that Helena could see the front page.
It was a gruesome photo, even in black and white. Kneeling down,
his face plain to see, Ferron was calmly disembowelling Lancaster in the
lobby of the Central Hospital.
She could only stare a moment before Aurelia twitched her hand,
folding the newspaper away, knuckles whitening as she gripped the
short staff. The house groaned, trembling.
"I have to admit," Aurelia said in a voice of unnatural calm, "when I
first heard that Kaine had killed Erik, I was so happy. I thought, He's
finally noticed."
The chandelier earrings were trembling more visibly.
"I tried to be a perfect wife. I knew it wasn't a love match, but I
thought he'd realise I was made to be his wife. How many men can say
that? I did everything, all the things, just the way I was supposed to."
She tossed her hand, still clutching the paper, her alchemy rings
gleaming dully.
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Alchemised • 219
"People don't know, but he didn't live here. On our wedding day, he
left me in the foyer. Disappeared for a whole month before I heard he
was back in the city. I thought it was a test. I decorated and threw par-
ties, but he never came to them. Then I thought I'd get his attention if I
made him jealous, but he didn't care. I figured he preferred men or pre-
ferred nothing, and I couldn't do anything about that but accept it."
The bitterness in Aurelia's expression grew ugly.
"I accepted it." Her voice shook with resentment. "Until you came
along, and suddenly he moved in, and he turned every inch of this estate
upside down for you; took you out for walks and gave you a tour of the
house."
Helena opened her mouth, trying to explain that Ferron was ordered
to do all those things.
"Shut up! I don't want to hear from you!" The newspaper crumpled
in her fist. "Then Erik Lancaster started paying attention to me." Aure-
lia looked on the verge of tears. "He was so sympathetic, kept me com-
pany at all the events that Kaine never showed for. He wanted to know
all about me. He noticed all the things I did to impress Kaine. He
wanted to see the house, how I'd decorated it. He was the one who said
I should throw all the parties again so everyone could see how wonder-
ful I was, even if Kaine didn't. The winter solstice was all his idea. That
big guest list. And all the dinner parties. Even the equinox party."
Aurelia's voice trailed off and she stared towards the windows for
several moments.
"When I heard Kaine had killed Erik, I thought, He's finally noticed.
He was just busy before. He does care. But then—" A tremor ran through
Aurelia. "—then it crossed my mind that Erik approached me the week
after that vile article was written about you being here. He was always
wanting to come here, even in the winter when it's ghastly. Then I
thought about how he'd disappear. During the solstice party, and the
dinner parties, and equinox. And he'd always be so worked up when he'd
come back and find me."
It was a terrible silence.
"It was all because of you," Aurelia said at last. "Erik came here be-
cause you. Kaine killed him because of you. Erik was using me! He used
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220 • SenLinYu
me so he could get to you!"
She flung the paper onto the floor, the pages splayed out, revealing
Ferron and his pale hair and skin. Hands stained black with blood, and
Lancaster's blank stare, face still contorted.
kaine ferron publicly kills initiate
"Why do they care so much about you?" Aurelia demanded, stepping
towards Helena. "What's so special about you that Kaine would move
here, into this house he clearly hates? With all these servants he can't
stand to be around but won't ever get rid of ? Why would Erik spend
months using me to reach you? Why does anyone care about you?"
"I— "
Aurelia slapped her across the face, the iron rings cracking against
her cheekbone. "I don't want to hear from you!"
There was a loud bang outside the door, as if someone was trying to
break it down. Aurelia jumped.
There was another boom.
Aurelia smiled. "I think he's noticed I'm in here," she said. "But
they're never going to get through that door in time. Not when I have
this."
Aurelia set the short staff directly onto one of the iron bars in the
floor, and they twisted up like vines, wrapping around Helena's wrists
and jerking down. Her knees hit the floor with a sickening lurch that
shuddered up her spine.
Aurelia stood over her. "I told you not to cause problems for me."
The banging on the door had grown louder. Aurelia tilted her head
to the side.
"You know, Kaine's terribly hard to shop for. I can never find any-
thing he wants, but there is one thing that he started collecting . . . Do
you know what it is?"
Helena's heart was racing. She shook her head.
Aurelia nodded towards the far corner of the room. "Eyes. There's
one right over there. I bet he's watching right now. I don't think he's got
any brown ones."
"Please don't." Helena tried to wrench her hands free, but the iron
around her wrists did not yield.
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Alchemised • 221
"Don't worry," Aurelia said. "This way Kaine will still have pieces of
you once you're sent back."
Helena tried to jerk free, but Aurelia made the iron pull her lower
until her shoulders threatened to dislocate.
Ferron will come. Ferron will come.
The words ran through her mind in a relentless loop. He would; he
had to know what was happening. He wouldn't let Aurelia—
He was in the city. She knew how long that journey was.
Aurelia grasped Helena by the chin. Her rings had lengthened into
threatening points. "Open your eyes wide."
Helena trembled. "Please— "
"Shut up," Aurelia said, dropping the short staff and gripping Hele-
na's jaw tighter, the tips of her rings sinking into Helena's cheek.
The banging outside the door grew louder.
Aurelia pressed the tip of one of her ring spikes against the outer
corner of Helena's left eye, digging the tip back into the socket. She
smiled, eyes alight with malice. "I hope I'm there when Kaine sees you
next. Even if he kills me, the satisfaction of this will be worth it."
Helena jerked her head back as Aurelia's ring sliced along her cheek.
"Aurelia!"
The scream shattered the air. Not one voice but several all at once.
All in unison.
"Aurelia!"
The thralls were screaming through the door. Inhuman, tearing rage
in their voices.
Aurelia started and gave a panicked laugh as she glanced towards the
door. "I didn't know they could do that. Guess you get all the special
treatment."
She turned back to Helena, her fingers digging into Helena's hair to
hold her in place as she dug the spike into the side of Helena's eye again.
Pain and pressure grew, Helena could feel that her eyeball was on the
verge of being pulled from its socket. The thralls were still screaming,
but Helena barely heard them above her own heartbeat. She was struck
by the surreal thought that Aurelia Ferron's face would be the last thing
she ever saw.
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222 • SenLinYu
She was going to be left in the dark forever.
Her eye gave, and her vision became one-sided.
The whole house shook as the floor rippled, like a creature come to
life.
Aurelia let go, turning in bewilderment. Before she could do any-
thing, iron bars tore themselves out of the floor and walls, darting to-
wards Aurelia like striking serpents, closing around her and dragging
her away.
Aurelia screamed in terror as she was dragged off the floor, fighting
to free herself with her own resonance, but the iron bars wrapped tighter
and tighter until Helena heard bones breaking and Aurelia went limp,
her iron- taloned fingers splayed and contorted where they'd been trying
to push back against the bars.
Everything stopped.
As quickly as it had come alive, the house sank back into stillness.
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CHAPTER 17
Helena's arms were straining against the implacable
iron, the edges scraping across her skin, shoulders screaming as she
struggled, trying to wrench herself free. The room around her was only
half visible, and all in ruins. Her terrified breathing was the only sound.
The house was utterly quiet.
It seemed an eternity before Helena heard the distant sound of foot-
steps in the hall. The door warped, opening, and then Ferron was kneel-
ing in front of her, blocking the ghastly sight of Aurelia from view as
the iron around her wrists melted away. She collapsed towards him.
Her chest was spasming with suppressed panic.
He tilted her face up towards his, and his expression grew horrified.
He touched her cheek and held her face as he drew several deep breaths.
"Your eye is out of the socket, and you have a deep puncture in the
white," he said, his voice shaking. "How do I fix it?"
Helena stared dazedly at him, shuddering as tears tracked down her
face, running along his fingers. Her breath came faster and faster.
She should know the answer to the question, but she couldn't re-
member. She could only feel the spot where Aurelia's iron talon had
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224 • SenLinYu
punctured her eye.
Ferron gripped her firmly by the shoulders. "Look at me. I need you
to stay calm and tell me how to fix this. You know how to do it."
She choked back a sob.
Think, Helena. She was a healer. Someone had an injured eye. She
needed to work efficiently if she was going to preserve their sight. Focus.
"F- F- For a punctured sclera," she said in a wobbling voice, casting
her mind back, trying to recall the technique. She had no idea how to
explain it to a novice vivimancer; she'd never taught anyone to heal.
It was pointless anyway. Ferron might be able to repair damaged tis-
sue, but he wouldn't restore her vision. She'd still be blind in one eye.
She crumpled.
Ferron gripped her tighter, holding her firmly upright. "Come on.
You know how you'd do it. Tell me."
She swallowed hard. "The resonance has to be very close," she said,
her voice barely more than a whisper. "You start at the deepest part and
replicate the tissue exactly like the surrounding tissue; it won't matrice
the way skin will on its own. You have to regenerate each structure fully.
Layer by layer."
That answer alone would have been enough to deter any knowledge-
able healer. Basic regeneration was one thing, but matricing tissue was
technically taxing and mind-numbingly repetitive, like watching one's
skin being rubbed off. It made the brain itch, but concentration had to
be maintained the entire time.
Ferron was ignorant of this.
He placed his hand over hers, their fingers aligning, and she could
dimly feel his resonance through her own fingertips before it cut off at
her wrists.
"Show me."
Her wrists were ringed with bruises. Pain shot through the bones as
she moved her fingers. She ignored it, focusing on the intuitive sensa-
tion that had been absent for so long, dimly feeling her eye where his
resonance ran through her fingertips.
Transmutation always started with an initial touch to forge the con-
nection. Once it was established, the alchemist could allow their fingers
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Alchemised • 225
space to manipulate the channel.
Her fingers moved cautiously, prompting his, weaving invisible fila-
ments of energy into a lattice of fragile tissue.
Ferron's silver eyes were almost luminous as he imitated the motions.
A tug came from the centre of her eye.
She whimpered, trying to hold still.
It was like a needle being poked into the puncture, a thread pulled
through, on and on.
It took all her willpower not to jerk away, to focus on the feeble sense
of resonance, to keep creating the complex regenerative structure.
Despite how small the wound was, it took ages. Ferron didn't stop
even when Helena's fingers cramped and failed and fell away, the sensa-
tion leaving her ready to scream.
"And now?" Ferron asked the moment it was finally over, not giving
her even a moment's respite.
She drew a deep breath.
"For— for a— a luxated eye," she said in a voice far calmer than she
felt, "you have to morph and retract it carefully or you'll strain the optic
nerve— more."
The motion was like turning a dial. Her eye slid back, squeezing and
morphing before settling back into place with a nauseating pop.
She blinked slowly. Her eye hurt; it had grown dry and sticky after
being so long exposed.
"H-How much can you see?" Ferron asked, tilting her face up to-
wards his, his fingertips pressed against her jaw, his thumb ran along the
place where Aurelia had sliced her cheek open.
She stared at him and covered her right eye with her hand. His face
was mere inches away, but there was only a dark blur.
"I can't— " Her voice cut off, chest constricting. Her hand slid from
her eye to clamp over her mouth as she fought not to sob.
"What else do I need to do? How do I fix it?" He gripped her shoul-
ders, still not letting her slump.
She shook her head, pressing her hands against her temples. "The
optic nerve's probably damaged. I can't—help, though—it'll be too—"
His fingers pressed around her eye socket, and she could feel his
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226 • SenLinYu
resonance moving along the nerve towards her brain. Her body con-
vulsed violently at the sensation, but he held her still. She felt heat and
the same agitating regeneration process as he found the damage hidden
between her eye and brain. An animal-like whimper escaped through
her clenched teeth.
He pulled his hand away and stared at her. It was lighter now, like
peering through a heavily fogged window.
"Anything?' His voice was hoarse.
"Your hair's pale. I think—I can make out your eyes and mouth a
little— "
"Good, we're getting somewhere then. Now what?"
He wanted to do more?
"Um . . . Atropine drops, from belladonna. It would dilate the pupil,
keep it from straining while the tissue's recovering."
"Get the kit," Ferron said to the servants, all of whom had been fro-
zen in place, inanimate while Ferron's full attention was on Helena.
One of them sprang to life and hurried down the hallway.
"I need to deal with Aurelia now," Ferron said. "Wait here."
Helena nodded, slumping back.
She watched through her blurred vision as Ferron turned to face his
wife.
He didn't even need to touch the twisted metal that wrapped around
her. A flick of his hand and the tangle of iron slipped away, slithering
back into the floor and walls.
Ferron knelt, pressing two fingers against Aurelia's neck.
The imbalance in Helena's vision made it hard to track how injured
Aurelia was as Ferron began setting bones and popping dislocated joints
back into place as easily as if he were assembling a puzzle.
He set a hand on Aurelia's chest, and Helena expected to watch Fer-
ron create a new necrothrall. Instead, Aurelia screamed, lurching up
from the floor, her eyes wild with terror.
"What? How did you—?" Aurelia was spluttering, her hands flying
to her chest and sides, touching herself all over in confusion. "How?
How are you here?"
"This is my house." The rage in Ferron's voice was palpable in every
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Alchemised • 227
word.
"But you— you were in the city!" Aurelia seemed more hysterical
about that than anything else.
Did she not remember what Ferron had done to her? Or was it sim-
ply too much for her to comprehend?
"Yes, I was. It was incredibly inconvenient of you, forcing me to leave
in the middle of a ceremony."
"But— how did you—" Aurelia looked around the ruins of Helena's
room.
"Did you think the thralls were the only things I can control from a
distance? This is my house, and my family element."
Helena stared at him in shock. What he was claiming wasn't possi-
ble.
There was no way that anyone could possibly transmute iron from a
distance, especially not in that manner.
Ferron's resonance might be beyond anything Helena had ever seen,
but even he couldn't reach all the way from the city and control the
inner workings of Spirefell with such accuracy. He would have been
acting blind, with no idea of what he was doing, unless—
She looked towards the eye in the corner.
No. It still wasn't possible, even with that. Every inch of distance
from a transmutational target increased the effort. Even if he'd merely
been in a different wing of the house, he'd be dead, dissolved into noth-
ingness like a collapsing star to use that much power.
It happened sometimes in the factories when the transmutational
array sourcing was too powerful. The alchemists would disintegrate.
"That's impossible," Aurelia said, echoing Helena's thoughts.
"Underestimating your husband twice in one day? That's not very
wifely of you."
"Oh, are you here for me? No, you aren't, you're here because of her."
She pointed accusingly at Helena. "You nearly killed me, and you did
kill Erik Lancaster, because of her!"
"Yes, I did. Do you know why? Because she is the last member of the
Order of the Eternal Flame, which means that she is important. Infi-
nitely more so than you will ever be. More important than Lancaster
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228 • SenLinYu
dreamed. My job is to keep her mind intact. When your father had you
educated, did he ever mention that the eyes have a nerve connecting
directly to the brain? What do you think happens if you just rip them
out?"
Aurelia glanced towards Helena in horror.
Ferron kept talking in his cold, unsympathetic voice. "I've tried to be
patient with you, Aurelia. I've been willing to overlook your indecent
behaviour and petty interferences, but do remember, aside from being
somewhat decorative, you are useless to me. If you ever go near her
again, or speak to her, or so much as set foot in this wing again, I will
kill you, and I will do it slowly, perhaps over the course of an evening or
two. That isn't a threat. It's a promise. Now get out of my sight."
Aurelia scrambled up clumsily, her face contorted in fear and pain as
she fled, limping, from the room.
Ferron stood, breathing deeply before he turned back to Helena. His
eyes were still blazing silver.
He approached her slowly and knelt, turning her face up towards his
again, studying her eyes. "The pupils are different sizes," he said. "I'll call
a specialist. See if there's anything else to be done."
She stared back at him. He looked haggard, his skin pallid grey, his
eyes too bright in contrast, but maybe it only seemed that way because
of how her vision blurred.
"Were you in the house when you—" She gestured at the wreckage
of the room.
He glanced over. "No. Or I might have managed it more neatly. I'd
reached the edge of the property."
"How— ?"
He gave a tired grimace. "The ability came compliments of Artemon
Bennet, although he didn't have any idea at the time of what he was
doing. It was intended to be a punishment."
Helena's eyebrows furrowed. She had no idea what could be done to
make a person's resonance so powerful that they could control iron from
a distance like that.
"How could anything— ?"
"I don't want to discuss it right now," he said, cutting her off.
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Alchemised • 229
There was a pause. She still felt like she should say something.
"How did you know I'd be able to fix my eye?"
"You were a healer."
"Yes, but . . ." Her voice faded. She was unable to explain why she felt
dissatisfied with the answer.
"Where did you learn to heal?" she asked, thinking back not only on
how easily he'd imitated her directions but also how he'd dealt with
Aurelia, and repaired the nerve damage on his own.
"Well, you see, there was a war, and I was a general. Picked up a few
things."
A headache was developing in Helena's temples from her imbal-
anced vision.
"Well, you—you have a natural talent for it. In another life, you
could be a healer."
"One of life's great ironies," he said, glancing towards the door, his
jaw tight.
The maid had returned carrying a satchel, the kind that field medics
wore, strapped over the shoulder and belted at the waist.
Ferron took it, rummaging through the pockets. She heard the rattle
and clink of glass vials.
"Just atropine?" he asked, looking towards her with a vial in hand.
She shook her head. "Five drops of atropine diluted in a teaspoon of
saline."
There was more tinkling, unscrewing, pouring, and then he pocketed
something and snapped the satchel shut. The maid immediately took it
back.
Helena started pushing herself unsteadily to her feet.
"I should—lie down so it doesn't run," she said. Her balance felt off
and her hands and arms shook, refusing to bear her weight. She sank
back to the floor. Perhaps she'd just lie there.
A hand closed around her elbow and drew her to her feet.
"I'm not leaning over you on the floor," Ferron said in an irritated
voice. Rather than pull her over to the bed, he led her out of the room
and down the hallway to another room.
The air was stale, the bed stripped and bare. Ferron wrenched a dust-
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230 • SenLinYu
cloth off a sofa, and Helena lay down flat on it.
He leaned over her, vial in hand. His face went in and out of focus
every time she blinked. Dark. Light. Dark. Light.
"How many drops?"
"Two, twice a day, for two days. Then euphrasia compresses for a
week."
Ferron leaned closer, dripping two drops of the belladonna atropine
into her eye. She closed her eyes to keep from blinking it away.
His fingers brushed against her cheek, and she felt the vanish. "The
servants will have this room made up."
She counted his receding footsteps, covering her left eye so she could
see him before he left.
He stumbled as he left the room, catching himself against the door-
frame and righting himself slowly, as if unsteady on his feet.
She closed her eyes again, listening to the heavy silence of the house.
Don't cry. Don't cry, she told herself.
She listened as the servants arrived and the bed's mattress was flipped
and made up with fresh sheets and bedding. The radiators were turned
on, hissing as the room warmed. Helena's few possessions were brought
in and put into a new wardrobe. The curtains were left drawn, permit-
ting only a splinter of light.
When they were gone, Helena made her way over to the bed and
tried to sleep.
Ferron returned a few hours later, followed by an older man with a
case filled with innumerable contraptions.
"I warn you, sclera punctures are quite a nasty business," he said with
a wheezing voice as he glanced over Helena. "Not much that can be
done. We'll be lucky if she can keep the eye. I brought some patches, or
if you're willing to spend the money I have some glass ones which will
do nicely."
He sat down heavily in a chair that the butler had brought over.
"She instructed you in the vivimancy to try to repair it?" he asked
Ferron, who was leaning against the wall, watching beneath hooded
eyes.
Ferron gave a wordless nod.
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Alchemised • 231
The optician leaned closer, prying Helena's eye open and holding
various mechanical contraptions up, peeling the lid back as he studied
the injury.
He was quiet for a long time.
"This is—quite exceptional work," he finally said in a voice full of
surprise. "Vivimancy, you say? Well."
He sat back heavily and stared at Helena, rubbing his chin. "Where'd
you learn this trick?"
"I was a healer," Helena said.
The doctor made an incredulous wheezing sound. "But you're—" He
gestured towards her wordlessly. "How would you know about medical
procedures like that?"
"My father was a surgeon, trained in Khem, before he moved to
Etras."
"Khem? Really. They have doctors there?"
Helena gave a tight nod.
"Fancy that. I've never known anyone from Khem. And he crossed
all the way from the lower continent? I can't imagine. The sea is—" He
shuddered. "Tides like mountains? No thank you. Even during the
summer Abeyance, they say it's a treacherous passage. I can't imagine
living in the coastal regions. You must be grateful to be inland now,
away from all that."
Helena stared at him.
He peered at her through a series of lenses, muttering to himself and
twisting various screws and then holding a small light near her face
before sitting back. "I believe you may make a full recovery."
He glanced towards Ferron. "Keep her out of the light, apply the
belladonna twice a day, and there's a good chance she'll have little im-
pairment."
Helena watched one- eyed as he stood, packing his instruments away
before he turned to Ferron, straightening his coat pompously.
"I must say, that's an exceptional healer you have there. When you
told me what happened, I didn't think there was much chance of keep-
ing the eye. We have a few vivimancers at the hospital now, and they
cause more trouble than they're worth. Always sure they know better
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232 • SenLinYu
than the doctors, but then only addressing the symptoms and never
bothering to understand how anything works. Useless lot."
The doctor looked down at Helena again. His eyes resting on the
manacles around her wrists.
"What a pity," he said to himself. "Such a waste of talent."
Ferron made a noncommittal grunt. The doctor turned to face him,
flushing. "And you, sir. Remarkable that you could manage such delicate
healing through imitation. Very impressive. You should work in the
hospital."
"So I'm told," Ferron said with an insincere smile. "Do you think
they'll still hire me after I murdered someone in the lobby?"
The man blanched. "Well— what I mean is—"
"If there's nothing else, I'll see you out," Ferron said, striding away.
Helena wore a patch over her left eye. Ferron came like clockwork to
administer the atropine drops, apparently not trusting even his servants
around Helena with belladonna. Once she no longer needed the eye
drops, she was brought cool compresses made from eyebright.
She'd just stopped wearing the patch when Stroud returned.
"You've had a rather unfortunate month, I hear," she said as Helena
automatically stripped for the examination.
Helena's vision was still imbalanced, making things swing out of
focus as Stroud began examining her. Stroud noted something in her
file, and then made Helena lie back and spent more than a minute
kneading her stomach and lower abdomen.
"Perfect," Stroud finally said, stepping back and taking several more
notes. "You're finally ready."
Helena stared dully at the ceiling, debating whether to give Stroud
the satisfaction of asking what she meant. Stroud stood waiting, and
finally she relented.
"Ready for what?"
"Enrolment in my repopulation program."
Helena looked at her blankly.
"Didn't I mention it?" Stroud inclined her head smugly. "It must
have slipped my mind."
Helena blinked slowly. Her uneven vision left her off kilter, as if real-
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Alchemised • 233
ity itself were out of alignment. "I was sterilised."
"Yes, I know." Stroud just nodded. "I believe I may be the first vivi-
mancer to manage a full ligature reversal."
The room threatened to tilt. "No. They said it would be—"
"Well, they did try to make things difficult. I had to practise several
times on a few of the extra girls we had in the program. It wasn't any
loss, don't worry. Not every resonance is worth replicating, and it's good
to have a few spares for consolation; some of the sires don't take it well
when we don't have any availability for their repertoires."
Helena's throat convulsed. "What?"
"Anyway, I didn't want to say anything until I was sure. I thought
you'd figure it out. I suppose you're not as bright as everyone says."
Helena tried to scramble up and escape, but Stroud paralysed her
limbs with a careless touch.
"The High Necromancer is convinced that you're an animancer. If
he's right, we can't let a girl like that go to waste. Do you have any idea
how rare they are? And here you are at the critical moment, when we
need one most."
Her body shook. "I thought—the transference—"
"Oh, so now you want to cooperate with transference?" Stroud
laughed. "Don't worry, we'll still try to recover your memories after-