“Of course…” he breathed. “You afflictedyourselfwith this amnesia.”
“Unintentionally,” I insisted.
“The Bluehelm did not drug you. Neither did the Toolkeepers.” Finally, Desmond wrapped a cloth around his hand and lifted the kettle from the fire. He sounded both relieved and confused. “Then why…?”
“Why what?”
“Amber.” He carefully poured hot water into both cups, then he set the kettle on a cloth folded on the table and sat on the chair across from me. “Wilder…he was mired in something.”
“What? Mired in what?”
“I don’t know, precisely. But last year one of his typical misadventures landed him in significant trouble. The Bluehelm summoned him, and he would not disclose to me the result. All he would divulge was that he’d accepted an offer that would allow him to stay at the Alchemary. And afterward…he affixed himself to your side, at every opportunity.”
I shrugged, denial sharp on my tongue. “We were best friends, Desmond. We had been for years.”
“Yes, but you’d grown apart during your Fundamentals year. You were the darling of the academy, if not of your classmates, while Wilder struggled academically, despite an unerring talent. And he and Petyr quit their relationship about the time you and I became…physically intimate.” Desmond sipped cautiously from his cup, seeming to consider his next words. “Wilder spun into a bit of a dark spiral for a while, retiring from the Dusty Beaker with a different student—or barmaid—every weekend. Breaking rules and curfews. Until the Bluehelm summoned him. Then, suddenly, he was reformed and was affixed to your side, despite his utter loathing of our relationship.”
I shrugged and scooped a spoonful of sugar into my own teacup. “Sounds as if he were trying not to be expelled.”
“Yes, but he said he’d accepted anoffer, presumably from the Bluehelm. And I think it concerned you.”
I frowned as I blew over the top of my cup. “Why would you—?”
“Because she’d already askedmefor updates on your progress, and I’d politely refused.”
“You think she was using Wilder to spy on me?”
“To observe you, certainly.”
I shook my head, careful not to slosh my tea. “He would never—”
“He would, if his only choices were to inform on the progress of your research or be expelled, wherein he might never see you again. He loved you, Amber. Even if he didn’t also love alchemy—and hedid—he would have done anything to stay here with you.”
The truth of that hit me like a blow to the gut, and I set my cup carefully on its saucer. “That’s why I wrote in code.…” Past Amber had known. At least, she’d suspected. “I didn’t trust you either. That’s why I wrote all of my research notes in a language no one else could understand.”
He nodded. “I think that’s true. I thought you were being paranoid at the time. That it was another way this place was changing you. But maybe you knew the Bluehelm was trying to keep tabs on you.”
I arched both brows at him. “Well, Past Amber was certainly no imbecile.”
“Neither isCurrentAmber.” His frown faded. “I don’t think he stopped observing you after your memory loss. I thought it was odd, at the time, how the Bluehelm knew to appear at Dr. Winhoof’s office during your examination. Wilder wanted to deliver you straight to her, but—”
“You insisted I go to the Panacea wing.”
He nodded. “And yet the Bluehelm appeared there and observed most of your examination. I think Wilder alerted her.”
“Seconds before he died, he looked relieved.” I blew over the surface of my tea again, letting the fragrant mist wash over my face in an attempt to calm the pitching of my stomach.
I did not like thinking ill of the dead. Especially of Wilder.
“Relieved?”
“Yes. When the staircase opened in the Conservatory foyer. He looked distinctly relieved. I remember thinking that was odd, because I’d expected him to look as surprised as I was that the staircase even existed.”
“He was going to tell the Bluehelm,” Desmond concluded. “That’s why he rushed in. You’d had no luck recovering your memory, and they didn’t know you had completed the formula for the Philosopher’s Stone. Wilder was running out of things to report, and your potential was looking…” He shrugged.
“Dubious. Which meant his time at the Alchemary was likely nearing an end. But he thought he could buy more if he brought her whatever we’d found in Lord Calyx’s secret hiding place. And instead, it killed him.”
“Do you think it’s his formula for the Stone?” Desmond asked.
