CHAPTER 45
Decembris 1786
CROWTHER WAS STILL ABSENT FROM HEADQUARTERS, SO Helena had no choice but to take her report to Ilva.
As she ascended the floors to Ilva’s office in the main building, she kept thinking about all the things Ilva knew about her. She’d been on the board that had approved Helena’s scholarship each year, and likely the admissions board, too.
The particular interest Ilva had personally taken in her since her father’s death felt much less warming now.
Ilva was staring down at a report, a pen dangling from one hand as she read, and didn’t look up when the guard let Helena in.
“Marino,” she said, her voice cool. “Sit. I’ll be with you in a moment.”
Helena waited, fingers flexing.
“How is your work on the nullium with Shiseo progressing?” Ilva asked, flipping the file closed and looking up.
The Council had named the lumithium-mo’lian’shi alloy nullium for the sake of convenience. While the knowledge of the alloy was not widespread, several metallurgists and chymists were all experimenting with it.
The question caught Helena off guard; she’d expected enquiries about Kaine.
“Good. We’ve finished synthesising the chelating agent using the samples I took from Ferron. If any of our combatants are injured by it, hopefully it will be able to capture and remove the traces of metal in the blood.”
The shrapnel samples Helena had retrieved could not make a sturdy weapon, but the alloy wasn’t supposed to. The fusion was intentionally unstable; it shattered on impact and the shards tended to deteriorate quickly when exposed to blood, dissolving like a poison blade targeting resonance.
Helena and Shiseo had been instructed to pursue potential treatment methods.
Because metal toxicity could happen frequently in certain fields of alchemy, chelators were already commonplace.
Ilva nodded. “What does Shiseo think?”
“He doesn’t think that true alchemy suppression is possible with the method they’re using. While it does prevent healing and alchemical surgery, it’s of limited use for combat, but that could change if they reconfigure the ratio and composition.”
Ilva’s eyes narrowed. “Is there an alternative method that you and Shiseo have in mind?”
Helena swallowed, trying not to squirm. “We have an idea, but it’s purely theoretical. We don’t have enough nullium to test it.”
“And it is …”
Helena’s stomach knotted. She hated these kinds of conversations.
“Given the alloy’s behaviour and how resonance is used, making it into a weapon or injecting nullium into the blood is less effective than simply targeting the limbs with it. If that kind of interference was focused near the hands, it would be almost impossible for an alchemist to accurately sense their resonance. Shiseo thinks that if the alloy was paired with something that has a high, sharp resonance point—like copper processed with a high level of lumithium emanations—that could create a type of interference that would suppress most kinds of resonance regardless of the alchemist’s repertoire.”
“How would we counter that?” Ilva leaned forward with interest.
“Well, any good metallurgist could, if they were comfortable working without resonance. But that’s not something most Paladian metallurgists have ever had to worry about.”
“Fortunate, then, that you fished those shards out of Ferron,” Ilva said, although the sentiment was hardly reflected by her tone.
Helena gave a tight nod. “Here’s his report,” she said, pushing the envelope across the table.
Ilva plucked it up and dropped it into a drawer.
“And I—” Helena hesitated, heat rising to her hairline and the tips of her ears. “He gave me a set of daggers as a solstice gift, using the titanium-nickel alloy.”
She pulled out the oilcloth and opened it on the desk for Ilva’s inspection.
Ilva raised an eyebrow, glancing for a moment before flicking the cloth to cover them as if she found the mere sight distasteful. ent methods.
Helena’s stomach dropped and she wrapped them up quickly, wishing she hadn’t shown them without being asked. “It’s a good sign, isn’t it?”
Ilva tilted her head, studying Helena for a moment. “Ferron’s climbing rank,” she said as she reached into a drawer and pulled out a file, dropping it onto the desk. “Did you know?”
Helena’s heart stalled. She had noticed his uniform was darker.
“It seems he’s already surpassed everything he’d ever achieved prior to that injury of his. He controls several extremely valuable districts. Recently he’s taken over the factory Outpost where you’ve been visiting him, consolidating power at a remarkable speed. It seems all our recent successes have benefitted him greatly.”
Ilva tapped a fingernail on the desk, looking up at Helena with a cold
smile.
“I didn’t know,” Helena said.
Ilva shook her head. “No, I didn’t imagine so. I’m beginning to worry whether you remember what he is.”
Helena’s breath caught, but Ilva continued, flipping through page after mething thatpage in the file before her. high level of“There have been rumours for months that Morrough has a new weapon.
We thought it was a chimaera, like the one that nearly killed Lila, or the nullium, but no. It’s neither of those things, is it?” Ilva folded her hands, looking squarely at Helena. “How is it that he’s still alive?”
“Crowther told me to do what I could.” lurgists haveIlva’s eyes flicked down from Helena’s face to her neck, where the chain of her necklace was barely visible beneath her collar. Helena went very still.
“You know, Ferron’s not our only spy,” Ilva said. “We have a number of informants. Based on their reports, following the recovery of the ports, he was punished. Extensively. He was dying. I was assured of that.”
“You knew?” Helena asked, her voice shaking. “You knew what they did to him, and you—you didn’t tell me?”
Ilva stared piercingly at her. “Why would we have told you?” anium-nickelHelena could hardly speak. “Is that why the attack was so elaborate and used so much of the intelligence? Because you expected he’d be killed for it.
Because you wanted him killed for it.”
Ilva said nothing, but now Kaine’s resentment and disbelief when Helena kept coming back began to make sense.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” Helena’s voice trembled with rage.
Ilva’s lips pursed, her eyes flicking across Helena’s face. “You’ve always been—remarkably forthright.” A smile stretched across her lips. “That’s why Luc trusts you so much. If we’d told you the plan, do you really think you could have gone, knowing, without giving any sign to Ferron?”
Helena began to tremble. She gripped the arms of her chair as the room blurred.
“We assumed you’d realise it,” Ilva added. “When it became clear that you hadn’t—that you felt some sort of obligation to him—we agreed to let you try to heal him in the hope that once you realised the futility of it, you’d be able to bring his talisman back.”
Ilva cleared her throat. “So you can imagine our surprise that he has not only survived but become more dangerous than ever before, that treacherous spy of ours. How did you do it?”
Helena swallowed hard. “We were losing, and it was only because of him that we could retake the ports. He did that for us. You didn’t see him the day I went back. He knew he’d be punished; he expected to die.” She gave a panicked breath. “If you wanted him dead, you should have told me.
Crowther said to do what I could.”
“What did you do?” Ilva had become impossibly more tense. “Did you—”
Her lips thinned, her eyes flickering to the chain around Helena’s neck once more. “Did you use something to manage it?”
Helena squeezed her hand into a fist. “I assumed that if you had to choose
between the two of us, you’d want him.”
Ilva’s face went white.
“So I used the amulet you gave me, I thought it—”
“You gave the amulet to him?” The question was almost a shriek.
Helena had never heard Ilva raise her voice. “No, I—”
“Do you still have it or not?”
Helena’s stomach twisted into a tight knot as she reached up, pulling the chain over her head. “I have the amulet, but the sunstone is gone.”
Ilva snatched it from her so quickly, the chain ripped open Helena’s kidskin glove. Ilva pressed her thumb against the centre where the stone was missing, staring in horror before looking at her. “What did you do?”
Helena swallowed nervously. “It broke and this—substance came out. Like quicksilver, and—it—it fused with Ferron.”
There was a ghastly silence. Ilva looked so stunned she said nothing, just looked at the amulet again, as if the stone could magically rematerialise.
Finally, Helena couldn’t bear it anymore.
“That’s why“If you didn’t want him healed, you should have told me.”
Ilva didn’t reply, just stared at the amulet in her hand. “Do you know the story of the Stone of the Heavens?” she finally said, still running her thumb over the empty setting.
Dread swept through Helena like a tidal wave. lear that you“No,” she said, shaking her head. “It’s a myth. Everyone knows that was a to let you trymisinterpretation. Luc said it wasn’t real.”
“Every choice I have made was to protect Luc,” Ilva said. She wasn’t talking to Helena so much as speaking aloud or perhaps to the amulet in her hand. “I was never trained to be a steward, to bear the weight of this legacy. I was happy with my role, but Luc was too young for all this. I’ve tried to make the best choices I could.”
Ilva looked up at Helena. “When your—vivimancy made its appearance, I thought I’d been given my way forward. That Sol had provided a fail-safe so that I could protect him. Of course there was still the politics of it to contend with. Matias did not make it easy. With all the concessions he demanded, I was concerned about the Toll taking you too prematurely. That amulet had been locked away for centuries, lying idle as generations of Holdfasts protected it. I’d hoped this war might rouse it to do something.”
“What was it?” Helena asked.
Ilva stood, seizing her cane so tightly that her swollen knuckles showed white as she walked past Helena to the window, looking out towards the Alchemy Tower.
“My family built this Institute and this city to ensure that necromancy would never come to power again. They gave their lives to that cause and kept countless secrets to that end.”
Ilva fell silent for a long time. Helena didn’t dare speak.
“Have you heard the stories of Rivertide?”
Rivertide was the name of Paladia back before the first Necromancy War.
It had been wiped out by a plague, and when the Necromancer found it, he’d used the corpses for his army.
“There was no plague,” Ilva said, still not looking back. “Orion called it a me out. Likeplague because it was kinder than immortalising what truly happened to them all.” She pressed her hand, still clutching the amulet, against her chest. “The Necromancer realised the alchemical potential of the area and came to Rivertide specifically because of the people living here.”
“He killed them?” Helena couldn’t understand the purpose of that secret.
That the Necromancer massacred Rivertide was even more believable than a story of finding a convenient town of corpses.
Ilva shook her head. “No, they’re still alive, to this day.”
Helena stared at her, not understanding.
“The Necromancer was a vivimancer, just like you, but the ability was even more mythical back then. He came to Rivertide performing miracles.
They thought he was a god. They built him a temple on the plateau, gave him everything he asked for, and he promised them immortality if they only had the faith for it. Then one day, he brought them all together in a great this legacy. Iassembly, in a secret place he’d carved underground, and declared that if they trusted him fully, utterly, he could make them live forever. I’m not sure of the process, but afterwards, his temple was full of corpses, and their souls were bound together, synthesised into this—substance. He used it, the power, to reanimate them all.”
Ilva began to pace, her steps jerky, her cane trembling in her hand; she was too agitated to be still. “When Orion fought the Necromancer, the souls were still conscious, aware of the betrayal exacted upon them—that the gift of ‘immortality’ came at the price of eternal enslavement. During the battle, the Necromancer’s control slipped, and the Stone turned on him. There was a light as bright as the sun. It filled the valley, destroying the Necromancer and all the necrothralls in a wave of fire. When it was over, Orion and his followers were all that remained.” Ilva shook her head. “If the truth of the Stone’s nature were known, Orion feared that others might be inspired to rediscover the methods, and so, when those who’d witnessed the battle called the Stone a gift from Sol, Orion had no choice but to let them believe it.”
Ilva paused, her expression mournful.
“It’s all a lie?”
Ilva whirled on her, looking furious. “What else could he do?”
Helena stood up, ready to ignite. “Tell the truth! You don’t get to make up history to suit your preferences. Do you realise what you’ve done? Luc thinks he’s supposed to be earning a miracle. That the reason he hasn’t already won this war is because he hasn’t suffered or been enough like Orion to earn it, ened to themand that’s his fault. But there will never be a miracle that will save us. You’re torturing him to death on a lie.”
“That’s why I am making him miracles,” Ilva snapped back. She looked equally incensed, as if Helena were the traitor. “You think I want him to
suffer? I want to tell him, but when is there time for that?” She swept her arm out. “Apollo should have been the one to tell him—when he was old enough, and ready for it all. There’s a process to it, but all that was destroyed when Ferron murdered Apollo and brought this war upon us. All I can do is try to make that faith real and keep him from losing hope.”
The whole city, the Principate, the Faith, the history, every mural, every amulet. All lies. au, gave him“You have to tell Luc the truth. You can’t keep doing this to him.”
“And what do you think would happen if he knows that no help is coming?
What will he have then?” Ilva glared at her. “That is too great a risk, but now d that if theythanks to you, I am left with nothing but terrible choices.” ot sure of theHelena set her jaw, too angry to accept the fault. “Why would you give me something like that without explaining what it was?”
Ilva’s eyes flashed. “Because I was trying to save you, spare you. I thought maybe the damned thing could manage that much, and it seemed that it did. and; she wasBut when Ferron made his offer, Crowther said it was the only chance we had left. I considered taking it back that night. I could have, after what you’d said before the Council, but I remembered your face when I first put it on you. I thought you treasured it enough to have sense. You stupid, stupid girl.” All the strength seemed to suddenly leave Ilva, and she nearly collapsed into a omancer andseat.
“You don’t get to lie to me and then get angry when I make the mistake of believing you,” Helena said. “If the Stone’s that special, why not let Luc use it.” battle calledIlva’s expression twisted bitterly. “It doesn’t serve the Holdfasts.” She looked away from Helena, jaw set. “Even in Orion’s own hands, it was hard and cold, never bestowing its power or favour upon anyone of the Holdfast line. There have been a few whom it would warm to, but it always went cold eventually. And you of all people had it. You could have done anything, and you healed Ferron with it.” e? Luc thinks“So sorry I wasn’t the puppet you wanted,” Helena said bitterly, standing.
She felt as if the entire world had dropped out from beneath her feet; she had no idea how to navigate this newfound reality. After so much time being ve us. You’remaligned for her lack of faith, it was all an invention. She wasn’t sure what was real. Even being given to Kaine had been an elaborate con.
It had never been about securing Kaine’s loyalty, but simply about giving the earnest appearance that she was trying to.
wept her armAnd Luc. Her heart ached. What would he do if he learned the truth?
Could she tell him this? After all she’d omitted over the years, was she going to come clean by destroying everything he believed in?
She couldn’t. There was too much at stake, and Ilva knew that.
Helena paused as she reached the door. “In the future, perhaps tell me what you want instead of expecting me to fail where it’s convenient to you. Maybe then we’ll both end up less disappointed in each other.”
“You want honesty?” Ilva’s voice was viperous. “I want you to kill Kaine
p is coming?Ferron.”
Helena froze, turning slowly back.
Ilva met her eyes. She was composed again, chilly as a lake. “He was you give mealways going to die, but I want you to do it. You created this new threat to Luc, so you will put an end to it.” ou. I thought“He hasn’t done anything to betray us.”
“He murdered my nephew.” Ilva’s voice cracked like a whip, and Helena hance we hadsaw the fury and hatred that the woman kept so carefully concealed. It rose at you’d saidlike a beast from inside her. “You want to what? To wait and see who he’ll kill next? Whose life are you prepared to gamble on that?”
Her chest clenched. “You can’t ask me to betray—”
“Why not? What has he done for you, Marino, except play you like the fool you are? Are a few trinkets all your loyalty costs?” Ilva’s eyes flicked derisively to the oilcloth still clutched in Helena’s hand. “If Ferron wanted you, he would have taken you by now. You’re just a toy; he winds you up and watches you spin.”
“No. I’m making progress. A little more time and I’ll have him just the way Crowther wants him.”
Ilva gave a disbelieving laugh. “Crowther was delusional, thinking to use you to tame Ferron. You cannot bring a mad dog to heel.” She shook her head. “But very well, you’re welcome to refuse; it doesn’t matter, we have more than enough evidence of his treachery. Jan has been assembling a comprehensive package. It would be a trivial matter to send along to the Undying. I suppose you could say the case is ironclad. Do you prefer that?
Do you think they’ll kill him this time?”
Helena’s chest felt as if it had been punched through. “You can’t do that to him.”
Ilva was unmoved. “Why not? It would be fitting, no? After everything he’s done. I’d say he more than deserves it.”
Helena realised then what she should have realised long before, that Ilva had always wanted revenge. Crowther looked at the civil war and saw all the political machinations of the surrounding countries; Ilva’s game of war was equally intricate, but hers was wholly personal. It was about Luc, it was about tell me whather family’s legacy, and it was about revenge. you. MaybeCrowther had been the ambitious one who’d wanted Helena to make Kaine loyal, something utilised in the long term. That had never been Ilva’s goal.
“We need him, though. We’ve only come this far because of him. If we lose him, if things start falling apart again, people will blame Luc for that.”
Ilva gave a thin smile. “Fortunately for us, Ferron has made himself quite the integral figure among the Undying in recent months. With him suddenly gone, the destabilisation will be widespread.”
“You can’t do this,” Helena said.
“I am trying to save everyone, Marino.” Her voice crackled with intensity.
“That includes you. No matter how you’ve romanticised him, Kaine Ferron is not a person. He is a monster.” Ilva pressed her hand over her heart, a gesture many people made when alluding to Apollo. “He and his family should have been dealt with long ago, but Pol worried about how the guilds might react.
He let that boy attend the Institute despite the suspicions surrounding his birth, and look how that kindness was repaid. I will not make that mistake with Luc.”
“Please, Ilva, I can make him loyal. I just need more time.”
Ilva stared at her. “Are you choosing Ferron over Luc? Over all the vows
you made?”
The question stopped her cold.
“No,” Helena said quickly. “No,” she said again, her voice breaking. “I am loyal. But”—her throat worked several times—“if I had proof that he was loyal, that he’d do whatever you wanted, would you let him live? I swear, if I can’t, I will—I will kill him. But if he was loyal, he could be useful.
“Please, Ilva.” Her voice shook.
Ilva gave a small sigh and looked tired. “If you can present Ferron on his knees, crawling, willing to do anything, within a month, I’ll let you keep him.” Then she shook her head. “But be honest with yourself. There’s no n’t do that tosuch thing as loyalty in his kind. The Ferrons are as corruptible as their resonance.”
There was pressure in her throat like a stone, but Helena forced herself to speak. “I’ll do it. One way or another. I’ll finish it. Don’t let Crowther send
what he has.”
Ilva had leaned forward on her desk, the chain from the empty amulet dangling between her fingers. “One month, Marino.” , it was about
make Kaine
ine Ferron is art, a gesture
aking. “I am
? I swear, if I
what he has.”
Ilva had leaned forward on her desk, the chain from the empty amulet dangling between her fingers. “One month, Marino.”