The King leaned in. “You are not a normal citizen anymore. You are working for me.”
“Why does that matter?”
“Kings always have enemies, and when you work for me, you become a potential target.”
“Many people work for you. Must guards accompany them all when they leave the palace?”
“You are a master alchemist whom I hired to end this rot. You're more important than the other people who work for me.”
After considering his point, I nodded. “I understand. I won't leave the palace unaccompanied again.”
“I appreciate that.”
A cry came from outside, and we both turned to look out the window. A streetlamp had fallen into a pile of silver rubble, its light orb still activated within the glass case, but the steel pole holding it was gone.
I looked at the King.
“Finish your meal, Master Sevarin. It's time to go.”
Chapter Eight
The laboratory was more magnificent than any I'd worked in before. Several worktables lined the walls, with a massive one running down the center of the room. Everything I requested was there and more. Beakers, burners, jars, tools, and even a shelf full of components. A work sink sat at the end of a counter against the wall, and the cabinets above contained towels, pots, plates, and mugs. A small round table with two chairs sat in a corner near the fireplace, and a small bed against the wall next to the table. It was a lab and living quarters.
I lifted my eyebrow at the bed.
“In case you need to rest and don't want to leave the lab,” the King explained.
“Thank you. That was incredibly intuitive of you.”
“There are other alchemists here. I know how they can get with their experiments.”
I set my satchel down on the central table and unloaded the samples I'd taken from Eberein and the armory door. The King came up beside me and set a key down.
I looked from the key to the King. “Thank you.”
“Shall we investigate the second armory?”
“Perhaps I should analyze these first. It may help if there's a trace of rot in the old armory.”
“There shouldn't be.”
“Still, it's better to be prepared.”
“Very well.” He sat down at the dining table and flicked a finger toward the fireplace. The wood waiting there caught fire.
I smiled to myself as I went to gather the equipment I needed. He was showing off. For me. How amusing. Images of the night before came to me, and that same strange shivering rose; this time it filled my chest. I didn't know him, but I was beginning to. Perhaps I even wanted to know him.
No, I couldn't allow myself to get distracted. He was the Dragon King. His interest would fade. I couldn't let him impede my work. A casual affair based solely on sex would have been wonderful, but I had the bad luck to find a Dragon King who didn't want casual sex.
Setting him from my mind, I set about processing the samples. From studying them beneath a scope to boiling them in different elixirs to note their reactions, I used all the identifying techniques I knew. My conclusions didn't surprise me. I'd been correct in deducing that this wasn't an organic rot. The reactions I'd observed pointed toward a magical origin. Magic killing magic.
“You work so smoothly,” the King said.
I flinched, having forgotten that he was there.
“It's as if you were born for this.”
I cleared my throat, unsettled. Generally, I received recognition for my results alone. I didn't know what to do with praise for my technique. “In a way, I was. I was born to alchemists.”
