Chapter 1
Princess Hellebore stared at the collection of death she’d amassed in front of her, grinning. Her mirth, however, was hidden beneath the goggles over her eyes and the mask over her face, filtering the air she breathed in. She lowered her charcoal as she finished recording her observations of the withering, dying plants.
She didn’t envy them. Rotting from the inside out couldn’t be pleasant. Although, it wasn’t as though Princess Hellebore had ever asked the plants. Not that it mattered. Their only purpose was to suffer.
She looked at her batch of little pots on the end of her table, given the best position in the sunlight in her lab. Well, maybe it wouldn’t be so bad for those. Even if they had any awareness—which they didn’t—wouldn’t it be better to be born with the rot and to never know anything else?
Better that than to be one of the other plants she’d gathered for her experiment, which she had purposefully spread the rot to. They had once known health and would have continued knowing it, if not for their misfortune to have ever encountered Hellebore.
She finished recording the states of all her specimens before tucking her notebook into its assigned pouch on her belt. Then she reached into another pouch and pulled out a labelled vial. With slim metal tweezers and thick leather gloves she went to her first specimen and plucked a few yellow, browning, dry leaves.
She continued on, humming slightly beneath her mask. Its job was to keep any impurities or toxins from getting into her system, but it could not fully shield her from the stench of death. Not that it mattered. She was an alchemist. She’d stopped being bothered by such trivial inconveniences since she’d turned five.
If she hadn’t toughened up then, she would have when she’d started attending the Royal Alchemists Academy eight years ago when she’d turned twelve. The Royal Alchemists Academy only took the best, and weak alchemists didn’t last long anywhere, much less there. There was no such thing as a squeamish or emotional alchemist.
Once Hellebore had collected her vials for closer observation, she tucked the last vial into her belt and made her way to the door. She could see through the glass someone was already in the other half of the lab, watching Hellebore with sharp eyes. The putrid filth of the slowly dying plants dirtied the glass and made it hard to make anything more out, not that Hellebore needed more than a glimpse to know who it was. The King’s Alchemist. Headmistress Palladia.
Or, as Hellebore knew her, Aunt Palladia.
Hellebore stepped into the antechamber where she shut the door firmly behind her. Then she set about pulling her goggles from her head, reaching up and unlatching her mask, taking a full deep breath as she set them on their shelf before she pulled off her thick leather gloves and set them aside as well. Once her hands were free, she lifted them and touched them to the transmutation formula already engraved into the wall andpoured her power into it, and the water and soap sitting on the ground glowed. Hellebore closed her eyes as her alchemy went to work, using the materials and cleansing her and her clothes from anything lingering on them. Once the mist faded and she was fresh and new, she opened the second door and stepped out of the antechamber and into the rest of the lab.
Aunt Palladia unfolded her arms and raised an eyebrow. “So?”
Hellebore reached into her belt and pulled out her notebook, passing it over. “See for yourself.”
Her aunt took the notebook and started flipping through it as Hellebore pulled a stand closer to the edge of the table and began taking her vials out of their pouches and organizing them. Once Hellebore was satisfied, she grabbed the large magnifying glass that had its own long, arrangeable neck and positioned it so she could examine her first vial in a better light. She touched the formula engraved on the side, tracing it and pushing her power into it, pulling the light coming in from the windows to focus on her vials.
She would never get tired of what alchemy could do.
As Hellebore studied the vein patterns on the leaves in her second vial, her aunt closed the notebook and set it on the table. Aunt Palladia said, “Even after you’ve turned in your dissertation, here you are still pursuing the project. You’re nothing if not dedicated to your project.”
Hellebore looked at her through the distorted reflection. “I should hope so. What kind of alchemist would I be if I stopped studying simply because the school year came to a close? But the real question is—”
“You know full well you’re going to graduate with honors.” Aunt Palladia grinned. “I just spoke with your teachers and got your results. Your hard work has paid off.”
“That was a given. That wasn’t my question.” Hellebore’s stomach turned. Was it really her hard work? Or was it because her father was the king and her aunt headmistress?
“Then what is?”
Hellebore swallowed her real question and hid it behind a smirk. “Will they be publishing my results and sending it to the other academies?”
While they might boost her marks in order to ensure her graduation regardless of her merit in order to please her family, surely her teachers wouldn’t publish her work if it didn’t call for such acclaim, right?
“I haven’t yet heard anything about publication, but I have no doubt it will be nominated and in the next rounds, as it deserves,” Palladia said, a sharp edge lining her words.
If Palladia took that tone with Hellebore’s teachers, then they absolutely would publish her work no matter how undeserving.
Hellebore pulled back, stifling her sigh and ensuring she kept her face impassive as she walked around the table. When she passed the window, she paused and looked out of it. Her lab faced the northeast and with how high up she was, she could see past the walls around the academy and out into the rolling green hills that shifted into rockier craigs, marking the border of Chymes.
The scene was a stark contrast to the rotting plants around her. The vivid green grass and healthy vibrant trees blended with bushes of orange and yellow flowers in full bloom. Even as the terrain shifted into the rockier grounds, flowers and grass could be seen amidst the craigs, brimming with life.
Just beyond it was Iubar. The kingdom of the Sun Elves.
Now a real experiment would be if she could get her hands on one of their famous Sunrise Irises. Being able to see how a magical plant—especially one that was just brimming with the same magic that raced through the Sun Elves’ blood—faredagainst Hellebore’s poison and rot would change the game. Using alchemy on a magical plant or creature was a lost art and even in its heyday, something only the best could master. If she could manage it, she’d prove her worth as an alchemist had nothing to do with her blood. And that would only be the beginning. There were so many ways she could use Sunrise Irises.
No living alchemist had ever studied a magical plant or creature. Alchemy, while “magic,” was completely different in its structure, unlike the Sunrise Irises or the elves, or even the witches, where magic sang in their blood. Alchemists manipulated, they didn’t create. Chymes didn’t have magic in its makeup the way Iubar did.
What better way to prove herself worthy to be Palladia’s successor than to eclipse her?
