A Kingly War

Quaos was surprised by the sudden appearance of an elderly woman in the middle of Malexandra‘s room, but only for a moment. “Good disguise,” she said when she realized the toothless old woman smelling of sewage was, in fact, Malexandra.

“Alas, the smell’s real,” Malexandra said. She removed the spell and returned to her normal appearance.

“Are you alright? You look… drained.”

“Nothing a few day’s sleep won’t cure. Unfortunately, that’s a luxury we can’t afford right now.”

“You found what you were looking for?”

“And then some. Get Anonymous.” Malexandra hesitated. “And tell him to bring the king.”

*****

King Skyler had been in the Magiary once before, and even in that dire emergency, he had not exactly been made welcome. So when Anonymous told him of Malexandra’s summons, he knew it was serious.

A tall girl with cropped black hair met the two men at the door of the Magiary. She introduced herself as Quaos, and led them up into the tower.

The room stank. Malexandra was sitting at her desk, scribbling furiously and looking exhausted. Anonymous went up to her, waved his hands around, and the smell disappeared.

“Wow, I wasn’t aware you could do anything practical,” Skyler told him. Malexandra stifled a laugh.

“I’m sorry about that; I just got back from Balirmind and I spent most of the day in the sewers, and I’ve had more important things to worry about.” She looked at Skyler. “They’re preparing for war.”

“Against us?”

“Yes.”

There was silence.

“Can Majardea survive another war against them?” Quaos asked. “I didn’t live here yet, during the last war, but I heard it was… close.”

“No,” Skyler admitted. “That was only three years ago, we’re still recovering. If we were attacked now--it’s not quite a sure thing that we’d be defeated, but even if not… another war would take its toll.”

“Is there a reason they’re attacking?”

“It’s because of what happened with your crown. The thieves that stole it used it to destroy a Balirmindian plantation. That wouldn’t be enough to start a war, except that it was owned by King Codroy’s nephew, and he was killed.”

“Could we give them the thieves?” Skyler suggested.

Malexandra shook her head. “Even if you could find them, and capture them, there’s no guarantee it would work. They blame you; it was your crown, and a Majardean subject who used it.” She looked at the paper she’d been writing on, “I’ve been trying to think of some way to stop it, but there’s not much. We could kill him, maybe.”

“Killing kings isn’t easy,” said Quaos. Skyler looked at her.

“You might not want to talk about that,” Malexandra warned her.

“What, it’s not like Majardea was on the best of terms with Sarca under their old king.”

“That was you?” Anonymous asked incredulously.

“The point is,” Malexandra tried to bring them back to the subject at hand, “Having Codroy assassinated might prevent the war. Except that, as Quaos said, it’s difficult, and his son is the cousin of the plantation-owner who was killed and might feel the same way, especially if he got an inkling that Majardea was behind the assassination. So that’s pretty much out.”

“We could try to treat with Balirmindian,” said Anonymous.

“No,” said Malexandra. “If Codroy would even agree, his terms would be too high a price--from what I gather, he wants to rule the country, or at least have control over it, get revenge on you, Skyler, bring slavery to Majardea…. We’re not that desperate.”

“Aren’t we?” Skyler said quietly.

“No! I don’t believe kings should have the absolute authority to rule over everyone else, but since you do, you should at least take responsibility to protect your people from that tyrant!”

“So you agree that not all rulers are tyrants,” said Skyler.

“I never said otherwise. I just don’t think that anyone should have that kind of authority.”

“Is this really the time to be having a political discussion?” Anonymous asked. They ignored him.

“What’s wrong with having power, if you do the right thing with it?” Skyler demanded of Malexandra.

She hesitated before answering. “It wasn‘t a tyrant that made me realize how oppressive power is. There was once a king, a decent enough king, who thought he might not like me very much. He sent soldiers to bring me to the palace, to decide what to do about me. I stood before his throne, in chains, a trembling rabbit in the hands of a hunter. We both knew he had complete, absolute control over my fate. It was his whim whether I lived or died. He let me live, obviously.”

“I don‘t understand,” said Skyler, “If he let you go…?”

“It shouldn’t have been up to him,” said Malexandra.

There was silence for a moment, then Anonymous said acidly, “We were discussing how to prevent a war.”

“Any ideas?” She matched his tone.

The four of them tried to come up with plans, but they didn’t really get anywhere. Finally, Malexandra said, “Could we continue this tomorrow? I’m going to pass out if I don’t get some sleep.”

“We’ll all keep thinking about it,” said Skyler. And then, more quietly, “Unless we come up with something, we’ll have to start preparing for war.” On that somber note, they left.

Skyler told the news only to his advisors, who had no ideas on how to prevent a war, but started making plans on how to fight one. He had to leave the meeting to stop himself from screaming at them. They had to find a way to avoid war!

That night, Skyler dreamed he was very small, and something--a giant hand?-- was descending on him, about to crush him, and then suddenly it wasn’t and he was looking up into a giant smirking face.

The dream was still vivid when he woke, and he understood what Malexandra had meant the previous evening. And then he realized he had a plan.

When he returned to the Magiary, it was not Quaos but Aniya who let him in.

“I miss you,” Skyler said suddenly. She looked away.

“Have you heard?” he asked her.

“About Balirmind? Yes. If you’re going to tell me it’s my fault--”

Skyler cut her off. “I wasn’t. It isn’t. I just wanted to tell you I have a plan.” He told her his plan.

“Are you sure?” she asked.

“Yes,” said Skyler, holding his breath and telling himself he shouldn’t care so much what she thought.

“I’ve missed you too,” said Aniya.

They went up to the tower. Malexandra, Anonymous, and Quaos were already there. None of them looked any more hopeful than they had the night before.

“Skyler has a plan,” Aniya said.

“Codroy wants revenge on me,” Skyler said. “Not on Majardea, but on me. Instead of Majardea fighting Balirmind, I’ll fight Codroy.”

“And if you lose?”

“Then I die, not thousands of people fighting for their country.”

No one argued against it. Malexandra gave Skyler paper and a pen and wax for his seal, and he wrote a missive to the king of Balirmind.

To His Majesty, King Codroy of Balirmind,
It has come to my attention that there are unsettled differences between the two of us that could lead to war between our countries. If you are of this mind, I hope you will agree for the two of us to settle the matter like gentleman, in single combat. I do not feel it necessary to involve any innocent citizens of my country or yours in this matter, if matter there is.
Sincerely yours,
King Skyler of Majardea

He folded the paper and sealed it. Malexandra touched it lightly, and it disappeared.

They waited tensely. For hours, there was no reply. Malexandra had food brought up. Skyler pushed his around his plate. It was nearly dusk when a letter appeared in the air in front of Skyler. It was sealed with the seal of Balirmind, and read simply,

Yes.
When and where?

The details were arranged, and two weeks later, Codroy arrived in Majardea with an entourage.
Skyler had spent most of the intervening weeks practicing his swordplay. He was already good with a sword, and he was confident that he was in practice, but then, Codroy would be as well.

The fight took place in the square where executions were held. That was not, Skyler thought, a good omen, but practically, it made sense; there was plenty of room for the fight, and for an audience.

The crowd was far larger than that at executions. Skyler tried to ignore it and concentrate on fighting. He and Codroy were about evenly matched. The fight dragged on. They sweated and grew tired and blocked and dodged and hit and bled.

Finally, just when Skyler thought he couldn’t fight anymore, Codroy lowered his guard, and Skyler stabbed him in the chest.

The crowd cheered. Skyler tried to focus only on the fact that if there had been a war, the cheering people would be the ones killing and dying. He moved stiffly through the crowd, ignoring the cheering and congratulations and efforts to bandage his wounds, and went started home towards the castle.

Halfway there, he changed direction and went to the Magiary instead.

“You’re dripping blood,” Aniya told him. She had the beginnings of a black eye.

“Oh. Right.”

She gave him some bandages, and watched as he wrapped his wounds. None were major enough to require anything more.

“Were you there?” he asked.

“I went. I was too bust fending off people who recognized me to see much of it.” She gestured towards her eye.

“I’m sorry,” Skyler said. “You’d think people would have gotten over it by now.”

“Have you?”

“I voided the warrant. You’re not wanted for treason.”

“Maybe not officially. And you didn’t answer my question.”

“I don’t know if it’s that I’ve gotten over it… but I think you were right to destroy the Talisman. Funny how little that matters, what I think about it.”

“It matters,” said Aniya.

The Crown

"What happened, Malexandra?” Anonymous demanded, rushing across the lawn to the dark corner she was standing in. “Don't tell me nothing- something happened, something huge and horrible- I can still feel it."

"Of course something happened, and I wouldn't tell you otherwise, but this is hardly the place. Come with me." Without giving him a chance to respond, she hooked arms with him and began to walk, saying loudly, "I know some people think the Jaelic style is more elegant, but you know how I prefer actual aesthetic beauty over whatever happens to be the style of the hour, surely you agree?" Some of the elegantly dressed people sipping drinks turned to look as they walked past, but there was nothing unusual in her manner. She was speaking in the exact way she did when she really was drunk- she did such a perfect imitation of her intoxicated self that he began to wonder if she really had been under the influence any of the times he'd thought she had been. He wouldn't really be surprised if those times were as fake as this, knowing her.

"I don't give a toss about that kind of thing!" he replied loudly, slurring his words.

"No, but surely even a philistine like you can't find anything to appreciate in it. Even if you don't like the one, anyone must agree that the other is even more undesirable-" They were past the people now, and she abruptly cut off her sentence, let go of his arm, and led him up into the tower.

They climbed the stairs in silence. It was not until she'd led him into the room at the top of the tower, barred the door, and checked under the bed for good measure that she finally returned to their true topic of conversation. "Yes. Something's happened."

He waited just a moment, then said, "I knew that."
"Yes. I'm just not sure how to say it."

That surprised him- he'd never seen her at a loss for words, and could hardly imagine it.

“He used the crown.”

Anonymous paled. “He wouldn’t! And even if for some reason he felt he had to, he’d consult with me first! Malexandra, whatever you think of him, Skyler is a good king and he would not unleash that if it weren’t utterly necessary. And anyway, he couldn’t have used it, he’s on the way to my party!”

Malexandra was unfazed. “What else could have done that, then?”

“Any number of things. The crown’s not the only thing with that much power. It hasn’t been used since Skyler’s great-grandfather’s time, Malexandra, and then only during the worst war the world’s ever seen. We aren’t even at war now. Why would he s use it?”

“Let’s go ask him,” said Malexandra, gesturing towards the window. Anonymous looked out and saw the king approaching the party.

“I will do the talking,” Anonymous told Malexandra firmly as they climbed down the tower stairs. “I have no wish to see you executed.” He knew Malexandra too well to take her silence for consent, but he’d warned her, and he’d try to stop her from saying anything treasonous.

They met King Skyler on the lawn. He was about twenty five, and looked the part of king. Anonymous introduced Malexandra to him. She did not curtsey or bow, but didn’t say anything rude either, which was about as much as Anonymous could hope for.

“I’m pleased to finally meet you in person,” King Skyler said to Malexandra. “Anonymous, how did you do it with the floating lights? It’s a great effect, I might copy it sometime if you don’t mind.”

“We are not here to talk about the decorations,” Malexandra snapped coldly.

“Something’s happened,” Anonymous told the king before he could react to Malexandra.

“He knows,” said Malexandra. To the king, she demanded, “What the hell were you thinking?”

Skyler blinked several times. “I beg your pardon?”

Malexandra merely stared at him, waiting for an explanation.

“It’s about the crown,” Anonymous began, but broke off when Skyler’s expression changed to one of utter shock.

“How did you know?” the king whispered.

“How did we know? How did we know?” Malexandra said angrily. “How can you have expected anyone not to know? Did you really think that you could use that much power and nobody would know?”

Skyler’s expression grew even more shocked. “You mean… you mean it was used?”

“You didn’t know,” Malexandra stated. “But what else could it be? You didn’t use the crown, the Talisman was destroyed, the Locket of Amir is… safe. There isn’t anything else with that much power.”

But Skyler was shaking his head. “I didn’t use the crown. Someone else must have. It was stolen.”

“When?” Anonymous asked him.

“Last week. I was keeping it quiet. I assumed it had been stolen for the jewels; I never thought anyone would use it. Do you have any idea of the destruction it can cause?”

“I was there last time it was used,” Malexandra said.

“But that was a hundred years ago!”

“Yes,” she agreed matter-of-factly. “Have you tried scrying for it?”

“It can’t be scried for,” Anonymous told her. “That way a king can wear it and not be found by enemy magics.”

“Ah. How unscryable is it?”

“We did some experiments a few years ago. It’s beyond my power to find it, or anyone wearing it.”

“Past, present, and future?”

“Um… I only tried finding it in the present. But the past would be no help, and even ordinarily it’s hard to see into the future.”

Malexandra ignored that. “We’ll have to go back to my place, then; there’s too much going on here to do such a delicate spell.”

“I’ve never been to the Magiary,” King Skyler said with interest.

“And you never will,” Malexandra told him.

“I could make you let me in.”

“You could try.”

“You’re right, I couldn’t make you,” he admitted.

“Won’t you need him as a focus?” Anonymous asked.

“Yes,” Malexandra admitted grudgingly, after consideration. “I’ll just get the supplies from home, and find somewhere else to do it.”

“Wouldn’t it just be easier to let me in?” the king asked.

“Yes. Look, I’m sure you’re aware that some of the people there are on the wrong side of your laws.”

“Of course. I won’t do anything about it, if that’s what you’re asking.”

Malexandra studied him closely, then nodded, and suddenly they were standing in the room at the top of her tower. As Anonymous and the king got their bearings, she took out a large ceramic bowl and some vials. She poured a shimmery silver liquid into the bowl, then a dark blue liquid that floated above the other. She stirred them together, muttered something over the bowl, and stared into it. After a minute she shook her head and took out a pin. She held it in a lit candle, then handed it to the king.

“A drop of your blood.”

Skyler looked at Anonymous, who nodded. He pricked his finger and allowed a drop of blood to fall into the bowl. Malexandra stared into it again.

Just then, the door opened and a head peaked in. “Malexandra, have you seen—oh.” Aniya stared at the king. She started to duck back out of the room, but Skyler grabbed the door and opened it all the way.

“Aniya,” he said quietly. “It’s been a long time. It’s good to see you again.”

“It would be better to see you again if you hadn’t ordered me killed,” Aniya replied.

Malexandra looked up. “Remember your promise,” she warned Skyler.

“I know. Aniya, I don’t want you dead. We used to be friends, remember?”

“Until you signed a warrant for my execution.”

“No, until you destroyed Majardea’s chance for peace and prosperity!”

“Stop it,” Malexandra ordered. “If I’m going to find something that’s impossible to find, I need to concentrate.”

“What are you looking for?” Aniya asked.

“The crown. It was stolen. And someone used it.”

“Why are you telling her? She’d probably just go and destroy that too!”

Aniya ignored him. “But it’s unscryable.”

“I know! That’s the problem. But really, didn’t you feel that earlier? Anything that unleashes that much energy has to leave some kind of mark. At least if I can find out what’s been destroyed, or will be destroyed I can trace it.”

Aniya frowned. “But you’re not having any luck?”

“I think if I make the spell strong enough, and look into the future rather than the present—”

Aniya interrupted her. “Do you remember the woman who was her for a few days, maybe three weeks ago? Who wanted to learn about getting past magical obstacles?” Malexandra nodded. “Well, she was telling me that her friend had the Mirror of Azerbjingardolinderia… that would be able to find the crown, maybe he’d let us borrow it.”

Anonymous drew in a sharp breath. “That would probably have the capabilities to find it,” he admitted.

“Do you know where to find… what’s her name, Rakayl? Or her friend?” Malexandra asked Aniya.

She nodded. “I’ll go ask them,” Aniya said, and left.

Malexandra tried scrying for it a few more times, then emptied the bowl and put it away. “If Aniya can’t borrow the mirror, we’ll have to get it through nonmagical methods.”

Anonymous and King Skyler agreed, and then the three of them stood around awkwardly. However, by the time Aniya returned three hours later, Malexandra and the king were in the midst of a heated debate, with Anonymous making occasional comments.

They dropped the conversation when Aniya returned, carrying a sack. Out of it she pulled the crown, and handed it to Skyler. “See, I didn’t destroy it,” she said.

“So you were able to scry it and get it back?” Anonymous asked curiously.

“Yes, that is exactly what happened,” Aniya told him, not meeting his gaze.

“Who stole it? And what had it been used to destroy?”

“Just a plantation in Balirmind. It was stolen by a former slave who wanted revenge. You don’t have to worry about it happening again.”

“That’s going to be a lovely diplomatic mess to smooth over,” groaned the king.

“You’ll manage,” Malexandra told him. Once he and Anonymous were gone, she asked Aniya, “What really happened?”

“Well, they didn’t actually need to scry it,” Aniya admitted. “But Rakayl was done with it, so they gave it back to me. Besides for that, it happened exactly as I said.”

Alchemy

“To what do I owe the pleasure of being interrupted in my studies?” Anonymous demanded sourly. He clearly had been engrossed in whatever he’d been doing—his robes looked as though they’d been slept in, or more likely, fallen asleep in a chair in, and he had several days worth of stubble.

“Don’t be like that; I can assure you this will be far more interesting,” Malexandra told him. “When was the last time you ate?”

“Yesterday? Maybe. I was busy.”

“You don’t want to do blood magic on an empty stomach; I’ll have someone get you something.”

“If you’re already fortifying your magic with blood, I fail to comprehend why you need a confederate.”

“I’ll explain once you’ve eaten.” She drew a circle in the air with her finger, which, once closed, became a shimmery window looking into the kitchen. She stuck her head through, and Anonymous could hear her talking to someone. After a moment she withdrew, and a platter containing a bowl of rice and vegetables and a mug of tea was handed through. “Thanks, Devrin,” Malexandra said through the window. “When you see Aniya, can you tell her to go through the wards when she comes up?” She received a reply, and pinched the edges of the window together, closing it.


Anonymous asked between bites, “So, what is it that we are doing?”

“You’re eating. I’m sitting here waiting for you to finish.”

“You know what I mean. You said we’re doing blood magic,” he prompted her.

She nodded. “In more ways than one.”

“Which cryptic phrase means ever so much to me,” he said sarcastically.

“To put it plainly, we’re going to be undoing a work of alchemy.”

His fork clattered to the table at the word. “Alchemy??? But that’s.... The secret of alchemy has been lost for centuries.”

“That’s never been true,” Malexandra replied solemnly. “Such a thing is very hard to lose. It can be forgotten, yes, but then at some point someone turns it up and no one has any idea what to do about it. So there are people who guard that secret, in case something like this happens.”

“Then why isn’t one of them doing—oh.” He gave her a long look. “You know alchemy.” He said it half-disbelievingly.

She nodded. “Me, and two others in the world. But you understand, none of us would ever do such a thing.”

“But someone did?”

“Are you done eating?”

He nodded, and she reopened the magical window, shoved his dishes into it and closed it. She then opened her door, hung a sign that said, “Do Not Disturb on pain of very bad things,” and put up a ward around the room. Once finished, she took a small, ornate glass vial out of her desk and poured it into a small bowl.

Anonymous leaned closer to look at it. “Don’t touch it,” she warned him.

“I’m hardly an idiot,” he answered sharply, probing at it with his magic. He shuddered and sat back. “Gods,” he said under his breath.

“You see what it is?”

“Pure power, created through pure evil. I knew the fundamentals of the concept of alchemy, but I never realized how… much so.”

“You understand what I’m trusting you with then, in asking for your help?”

He did. Alchemy was the ultimate temptation, the ability to create infinite wealth and eternal life. Such a thing has, of course, an even greater cost.

“Malexandra?” he asked tentatively. “They say that you’re immortal…”

She gave him her very coldest glare. “If I thought you believed I would do such things, we would no longer be friends,” she told him. “They’re wrong. I’m long-lived, yes, but I come by it naturally, as you should well know.”

“I do,” he assured her. “I was only speaking of your reputation. Has it never been suggested that you’ve employed alchemy?”

“Considering that even you thought the knowledge lost, it has not occurred to the gossips that speculate on such things. And I would appreciate if that remains so. Now back to what I was saying before, can I trust you with this?”

“Of course; I would no more commit such acts that you would.”

“And you will tell no one what you know, or even that you know it? Not even your friend?” She put a slightly sarcastic emphasis on the last word.

“If by my friend you mean the king—”

“Do you have other friends?”

“Yes, as a matter of fact. I was under the impression we were friends, as well as—”

“We are, but I don’t refer to myself in third person. And I was going to say, do you have other friends who I won’t call by name?”

He rolled his eyes. “He’s really not such a terrible person, you know. And he’s the best king we’ve had in the last two hundred years.”

“We have better things to do than argue politics, dear, especially as we won’t change each other’s opinions. Do you mean to tell him about this?”

“I hadn’t thought about it. Do you want me not to?”

“Of course I want you not to! Kings are the very worst people for wanting eternal life and gold, and the very best at justifying doing anything to get it. After all, it could help their kingdom, what does torturing a few children to death matter?” Her last sentence was, of course, sarcastic.

“Gods, is that what it takes?” Anonymous murmured, the sight of the liquid now making him feel slightly queasy. “He’s not like that, though, Malexandra. But I won’t reveal this to him, or anyone else. You have my word on that. Now what must we do?”

“I could destroy this by burning it or dissolving it in acid. But that wouldn’t tell us anything that could help us find the maker. We need to—”

She was interrupted by a young woman suddenly appearing in the beginning of the room. “Ah, Aniya. I was just telling Anonymous how we’re going to go about this. I’m going to need you to take charge of the timer again.”

Anonymous looked at the woman suspiciously. “Isn’t there a warrant out for-”

Malexandra gave him her most intimidating look. “Aniya will assist us with this. Now, what we need to do is take the spells that make this up apart strand by strand, looking for any traces of its creator’s magic. With something as powerful as this, it will be difficult, so we will take turns adding drops of blood to the spell.” She paused, then continued, “I should warn you, this could be… emotionally difficult as well.”

“I am prepared to proceed whenever you are.”

She lit a candle, pulled out two pins, and held them in the flame to sterilize them. She handed one to Anonymous, then took out a sheet of paper, saturated it with her magic, and held the candle to it. As the paper caught fire, Malexandra dropped it onto a plate and blew out the candle. “Aniya will tap the table every thirty seconds, at which time we’ll take turns adding a drop of blood.”

“I’ll tap once when it’s Malexandra’s turn and twice when it’s your turn,” Aniya told him. She was without doubt who he thought she was, but he let that matter rest and agreed.

Aniya tapped the table once and Malexandra pricked her finger with the pin and allowed a drop of blood to fall onto the paper, which was burning with unnatural slowness. Anonymous felt a surge of magic, and the two of them sent their magic into the fluid.

Malexandra had been right; it was emotionally difficult. Hatred and fear pushed into his magic, and it took more strength than he would have guessed to keep it out. He began to prod at the strands of magic making up the liquid, untangling them. He habitually took apart spells to study them, so it was not difficult. He examined the first strand he’d separated for anything that could lead back to the alchemist—and heard two taps. He plunged the pin into his finger and shook the drop of blood into the fire, then continued his examination of the magic.

It was just after his second drop of blood that he felt something, a sense of magic not part of the spell. He wrapped it in his own magic to isolate it, and began to test its properties. Two taps on the desk, he added another drop of blood to the flames, and was suddenly aware that he was doing most of the work. Malexandra’s magic was no longer picking at the spell. Anonymous felt its presence, but not its activity. He glanced up at her, but she was in deep concentration, so he shrugged it off and continued with the thread of magical energy he was examining. He cautiously sent a bit of his magic down it—

And a surge of fire and hate surged down the thread and engulfed him. A scream flew from his throat, and now he could feel Malexandra’s magic, just for a moment, because then he was unconscious.

He opened his eyes. The ceiling was that of the room he’d been in, though darker—hours had passed. “Malexandra?” It came out as barely more than a croak, but as he managed to look up, she was there.

“I guess I should have warned you about that.” He couldn’t tell whether she was kidding or she really had expected it. Knowing her, probably both.

“What happened?”

“You found the alchemist. He found you right back.”

“I knew that much, Malexandra. I am quite aware that I didn’t lose consciousness due to your sense of humor. Probably. But what happened?”?

“He’s dead.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.” Her tone allowed no argument.

“How?”

“Does it matter?” she asked, and he knew she’d killed him.

“You have no doubt?” he asked, just to be sure.

“Yes, Anonymous, I have no doubt,” she said with less exasperation than she would have shown had he been able to sit upright. “I am completely sure. I would show you whatever bits of ash are left of the body if I knew where they are, but I don’t, and I hardly care enough to try to find them.”

“What about me?” He only meant to ask what his condition was, but before he could clarify she warned, “This’ll hurt,” and it did, so much so that he couldn’t pay attention to what she was doing, but when the wave of pain passed he felt almost normal.

“Thank you,” he told her, though less graciously than he would have had it not been her fault in the first place. “I’ll just leave now.”

“No. I already have one of the rooms set up for you. I know you well enough to not trust that you’d actually get sleep, if you went home.”

He glared at her.

“Anonymous, remember that you’re one of only four living people who know the secret of alchemy. Surely that’s worth it to you.”

It was, of course, but he’d never admit it to her.