Page 40 of The Scarlet Alchemist

The prince rushed into the courtyard as if he’d run here, followed by his guards, and took a seat beside the Moon Alchemist. The other alchemists bowed again immediately, but I was so stunned that I stayed standing for a moment too long, and his eyes met mine across the courtyard. He smiled softly and I immediately dropped to the ground, hiding my face.

Alchemy required concentration, and the last thing I needed was the knowledge that the prince was watching me, comparing me against the tales he’d heard of me. Surely he imagined something much greater than I was. Whatever he saw would be a disappointment.

“As alchemists,” the official went on, “one of your main duties is to preserve the eternal life of our kingdom.”

That means gold, I thought. Of course they would make sure we knew all about gold. Nothing else mattered to the rich.

“The stones you work with are the keys that unlock all of alchemy’s wonders,” he said, “so you must know them better than your own souls, in darkness or light, at a moment’s notice. And the most important stone that you will work with in your service to the Emperor is gold. Please open your barrels now.”

I picked up a small hammer from the tray and started tapping the center ring, my hands slowing when I realized none of the alchemists were doing the same. Some had grabbed a few firestones to blast off the lid, but most were staring as if the barrels were exotic animals. Had they never opened one before? These men could conjure fire from air and uproot ancient trees with a single touch, but they didn’t know how to open a plain wooden barrel?

I rolled my eyes and kept hammering the center ring. Auntie and Uncle received shipments of red clay and new dyes from the North in barrels like this. I wiggled off the top ring, then pried open the lid with the thin edge of the hammer.

A bright light shined up from inside, warming my face.

Gold.

More than I had ever seen in my life, thousands of tiny flecks the size of my thumbnail, drinking in the afternoon sunlight and shimmering back at me so sharply that I had to squint. I couldn’t help it—I sunk my hands into the barrel, the gold so smooth and cool that it parted for me like water, all the way up to my elbows.

But something was wrong. I picked up a piece and held it up to the sunlight. Its surface felt too firm, too unyielding in my hands. Gold was supposed to be weak and malleable.

“You must be the masters of gold,” the scholar continued, once only a few alchemists were still struggling with their lids. “In each of your barrels, every piece is counterfeit except for one. Find it, and present it to me. You may use whatever means you wish, but you have only one chance to guess.”

Immediately, the other alchemists took out their stones, sorting through them on the ground. I ducked down and did the same, even though my stomach felt like it was falling becauseI had no idea what they were doing.

I’d looked for fake gold before, but I hadn’t needed alchemy for that. Surely there was some sort of alchemical test far more accurate than my methods, or else the other alchemists wouldn’t have been looking through their stones. Or was this just a test to make sure we’d handled gold before, that we actually worked with stones and didn’t just read about them?

I took a deep breath and closed my eyes, trying desperately to think only about gold and not about the Moon Alchemist’s cold stare or the Crown Prince’s naive belief in me.

Focus, Zilan, I thought.What is fake gold made of?

Counterfeit gold was usually pyrite or cheaper metals plated in a thin layer of gold coloring. But I couldn’t compare the weights because all the pieces were different sizes. I could try to scrape off the top layer and see if there was any discoloration underneath, but I risked scraping away real gold too.

Something whirred beside me. An alchemist was transforming a lodestone and some clear stones I couldn’t quite see. He grabbed a handful of gold from the barrel and set it on the ground. When he held the lodestone to the pieces, they jumped toward it and stuck as if glued. He peeled the pieces away and set them aside, then repeated the process with another handful.

He made a magnet, I thought. I knew of magnets in compasses, but I didn’t know how to make one and hadn’t seen what he’d done with the lodestone. Was that something the other alchemists had studied in school?

The alchemist on my other side jumped back with a yelp, steam rising from the ground. The pile of gold pieces before him sizzled, the air suddenly smelling bitter. He must have poured an acid over the coins, hoping for some sort of reaction, but I didn’t know what he was looking for. What was acid supposed to do to real gold that it wouldn’t do to fake gold? Wouldn’t all of it just melt into a gold soup?

At the front of the yard, one of the alchemists shot to his feet and rushed forward, holding out a gold nugget to the judges with both hands. The Moon Alchemist and the prince leaned forward with interest as the officer rose to inspect it.

Already?I thought, my heart sinking.

But the judge merely shook his head, tossing the gold over his shoulder.

“Leave,” he said.

The alchemist fell to his knees. “Please, can’t I have one more guess?” he said, clinging to the man’s robes. But the scholar scoffed and yanked his robes away.

“Leave,”he said again. “There is no room for mistakes among the royal alchemists.”

The man hung his head low and trudged away as if walking toward his death. That was really all it took to be sent home? One wrong guess and everything was over?

I chanced a glance across the courtyard. It seemed I was the only one who hadn’t even taken any gold out of the barrel yet. My competitors were all hunched over their stones, pawing through their barrels. I swallowed down panic, clutching handfuls of cool stones to keep me grounded. Across the courtyard, the prince met my gaze. This time, he wasn’t smiling.

I’d be damned if I looked like a fool in front of him.

I took a deep, steadying breath.Let’s do this my way, I thought.

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