Page 117 of The Scarlet Alchemist

“Toyou,” she said, coughing. “This isn’t how it’s meant to be, Zilan. People are supposed to die. I don’t want to be the cause of people’s suffering anymore.”

“You don’t cause suffering,” I said, even though I knew what she meant. All the alchemists had built this kingdom that hinged on blood and death and pain. Even if we thought we didn’t have a choice. “You helped me.”

“I’m glad,” she said, smiling softly. “But you don’t need my help anymore.”

“Stop it,” I said, my voice wavering. “Are you saying you regret bringing me back? That I’m such an abomination that I’d be better off dead?”

She shook her head, but couldn’t seem to turn it again, staring off to the side. “Raising the dead is evil, Zilan,” she said. “But you can’t create evil without also creating good. You are the good thing—the best thing—to come out of all the evil things I’ve done.”

“Don’t,” I said, tasting tears that I couldn’t feel on my face. “Stop talking like that. You can’t—”

“Promise me you’re not going to bring me back, Zilan.”

“I—”

“Put my body in the pit.”

“I can’t do that. I—”

“Zilan,” she said, gripping my hand, her eyes bright, “if you don’t get rid of my body, someone will use it.”

I thought of the corpses stacked up in the dungeons, the paper name tags, their glassy eyes once we dragged them back to the land of the living.

“Please don’t let them use me,” she said, her voice small, tears streaking down her face. “I don’t want to be used for evil anymore.”

“Okay,” I said, so softly that I didn’t even know if she could hear it. “I promise.”

Then her grip went slack, and she wasn’t the Moon Alchemist anymore.

I rolled her body into the pit, my breath catching as she tipped over the side and the sounds of tearing flesh echoed up into the air.

I rose to my feet, my muddy knife clutched in one hand, my whole body shaking as I crossed the courtyard, past the empty eyes of the dead, the growing puddles of blood, the crushed fingers and split rib cages and organs. I trudged up the stairs, pressed a muddy hand to the door, and pushed into the throne room.

The Empress was sitting on her throne, a glass of wine in one hand and a servant trembling at her feet. In the fireplace behind her, a wall of flames blazed. The rancid scent in the room nearly brought me to my knees, so thick and sticky at the back of my throat. My footsteps crunched over broken pearls as I stumbled closer.

“Ah, Scarlet,” the Empress said, taking a sip of wine as if I wasn’t wielding a weapon at her, trailing dirt and blood. “I was wondering when you’d arrive.”

I pointed my knife at her. “All your guards are dead,” I said.

She shrugged, swirling the liquid around her glass. “I have more in the western ward on the way.”

“They won’t get here in time,” I said.

She watched me for a long moment, the flickering light of the fire gleaming off the string of pearls around her neck. “Pour Zilan some wine,” she said to her servant, who leaped to his feet instantly. “Zilan, drink with me.”

The servant approached me with a gold chalice, but I swiped it off the tray and it clattered to the floor. “Do you not hear me,Empress? Your reign is over. You can’t hurt the Emperor anymore. He’ll wake up and see—”

“Scarlet,” the Empress said, “really, you disappoint me.” She set down her glass. “There is no Emperor.”

I tensed. “Of course there’s an emperor. People have seen him—”

“He’s been dead for months,” she said, waving her hand like this was inconsequential. “Arsenic dosing is not a perfect science. I admit, his death wasn’t part of my original plan. But it turns out it’s surprisingly easy to dispose of a body in this palace.”

“You hid his death?” I said. I’d thought the Empress wanted nothing more than the Emperor to die so she could claim her place as Empress dowager instead of Empress consort. Then understanding dawned on me. “He died before changing the line of succession,” I said.

The sour look on the Empress’s face told me that I was right. That must have been why the attacks on the prince started so recently—the Empress had been trying to get rid of him before anyone found out the Emperor was dead.

“That means that you’re not really the Empress,” I said. “The country belongs to Hong now.”

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