Page 214 of Alchemised
She felt a needle in her arm. It made her skin itch, and when she tried to transmute it out, her hand was smacked away.
“Worst patient I’ve ever had.”
Thick velvet darkness swallowed the world.
CHAPTER 43
Octobris 1786
THE HOSPITAL HAD GROWN QUIET WHEN HELENA woke. She felt weak as a kitten. She lay unmoving until Pace entered.
“How’s Lila?” she asked, her voice barely more than a whisper.
“Recovering,” Pace said in a tart voice. “Quite a miracle that she survived. All thanks to the recovery team’s quick thinking and daring rescue.” She cleared her throat. “They’ll all be medalled for bravery, and there were several Ember Services called, to devote prayers of thanks to Sol for his—grace in saving her.”
Helena stared up at the ceiling. “How long have I been asleep?”
“Three days.” Pace went over to her desk, sorting loudly through a drawer without removing anything. “I said you were quarantined. All that foraging exposes you to the elements too much, I think.”
Helena’s eyes threatened to slide closed again. “Thank you.”
“I do what I can. Crowther wants to see you when you’re up again,” Pace said. She started to leave, but then paused. “Lila Bayard is not the only person that the Resistance would suffer greatly for losing. I’ve told Ilva, Crowther, and Matias as much time and again, though I can’t say they listen, but maybe you will. There are rare talents that shouldn’t be squandered even if they are overlooked.”
When Helena went out, Luc was sitting beside Lila, who lay so still she scarcely seemed to be breathing. Lila was taller than most people, but she looked shrunken without her armour. She was swathed in neat bandages that had been packed with salves to ease the pain and sensitivity from the new tissue. Her breathing was slow and laboured, but Helena had only to brush her fingers against Lila’s hand to feel that her vital signs were stable.
She stood beside the bed, fingers just barely touching Lila’s.
Luc was staring at Lila’s face. His eyes were huge, purple-blue circles bruised under them as he held his paladin’s hand in both of his. Soren was across the hospital, stationed near the doors.
Paladins were as intrinsic as the Holdfasts in the history and tapestry of the nation. The country was named for them, in acknowledgement of their vital role in the first Necromancy War. As the centuries passed, the role had gradually become mostly ceremonial.
Lila had been something altogether new, though, a once-in-a-lifetime talent. Her parents had wanted her to have all the chance for the greatness traditionally limited to sons. Lila was placed solely in the combat track, training to join the crusades to experience real combat when she was only fifteen, while Soren was double-track at the Institute, like Luc. Soren would have been considered an excellent combat alchemist if his twin sister wasn’t his competition, but no one compared to Lila.
There’d been a procession when Lila came back after a year crusading. Helena hadn’t really known Lila then, aside from her being Soren’s sister.
She’d dismounted from a charger, pulled off her helmet, and stood resplendent, like a goddess stepped out of myth. Her pale hair was wrapped around her head like a crown, and she presented her weapons to Luc, who had stood, looking as if he’d been struck by lightning until Soren kicked him in the ankle.
Luc, who’d always been a bit of a larker about combat training and dismissive of the idea of a paladin, developed a passion for it overnight. He’d started constantly disappearing from study sessions and social events to practise with Lila.
His interest had been so painfully obvious that Helena and Soren were embarrassed just witnessing it, but before anything could happen, Principate Apollo was dead.
Lila had spent her whole life training to be a paladin. Soren was not remotely prepared, and Sebastian Bayard, able as he was, had just failed in his own vows by having been absent when Apollo was murdered.
Lila took the vows. To protect Luc with her life, to die for him. Luc had no choice but to accept them. Whatever had or hadn’t briefly existed between them was buried beneath the weight of those vows.
“I’m sorry …” Luc said, his voice barely more than a whisper. “I lost my head when I saw it take her.”
His expression was dazed, and his blue eyes didn’t seem to see the room around them. Helena knew the look. He was back in the moment, reliving it over and over, dissecting it into every instant when he could have done things differently.
“It was after me. The chimaera. I couldn’t get my sword out in time. Should have just used fire.” He shook his head. “Don’t know why I didn’t. It was so fast. Lila threw herself in front of me and I heard the sound when it bit her—”
His voice died.
People were often like this in the hospital; their failures poured out of them.
“There was blood coming from her mouth, but she didn’t scream—she told Soren to hold me back. It ran with her and I—I should have just used fire—” he choked out. “Soren wouldn’t let go and I—”
“She’s going to be all right, Luc,” Helena said. “All her vital signs are stable. No lasting injuries.”
