Chapter 19 #2
I reached into the small hole, and my fingers closed around something curved and slightly warm.
At first, the object resisted my effort, but then I pulled harder, and it came free with a soft click.
From the inner wall of the compartment, a small metal clasp slid forward, protruding a fraction of an inch beyond the hole, and I realized that when the plaque was closed over the compartment again, the clasp would secure it in place.
I turned, careful not to knock over the beaker at my feet, and held my prize up to the light of the torch. Lying on my palm was a metal ring no bigger around than my fist. It took the shape of a snake swallowing its own tail.
An ouroboros. A symbol for wholeness. Or infinity.
The ring—the bracelet—was rigid and intricately molded, each individual scale distinctly visible. The snake’s head was flared, its tail narrow where it fit between delicate metal fangs. The snake’s eyes were tiny red jewels, shining like rubies in the bright white flame from the torch.
Stunned, I slid the bracelet onto my left wrist. It was warm against my skin and loose enough that it would clank against any work surface when I moved. And yet…I didn’t want to take it off. Even though it didn’t belong to me, and I’d vandalized yet more Alchemary property in order to find it.
The point was that I had found it. I’d found it. But the building had shown me how.
The building, and Past Amber.
And all I could think, as I closed the plaque and returned to Desmond’s lab to seal up what was left in the beaker, was that there had to be a reason.
“Amber!”
As I stepped out of the Conservatory into the quadrangle, a familiar voice smashed through my triumphant haze like an adze through firewood, sending my splintered thoughts flying.
I looked up to find Professor Edmiston standing beneath the broad front portico of the Seminary, as if she’d just stepped out of the building. She looked both relieved and surprised to see me.
“Amber Fallbrook!” she repeated. “May I please have a few moments of your time?” Her voice lifted on the end of the question, implying that I actually had a choice in the matter, but her expression did not support that sentiment.
I nodded and began winding my way down the stone path, around topiary animals, past students who watched me with open curiosity. As I walked, I subtly pulled the ouroboros bracelet from my wrist and slid it into a pocket concealed in the folds of my cloak.
“What a delightful coincidence.” Professor Edmiston looked back at me with every other step as I followed her up the front stairs of the Seminary.
“I was just on my way to your Dormitory chamber to look for you, after failing to find you in the student laboratory.” Though her smile held steady, her voice took on a censuring tone.
“Most of your classmates have been hard at work at their stations all day.”
“I had a late night,” I mumbled.
She nodded as she pulled open the front door and held it for me, using her free hand to push back a poofy clump of silver curls. “So we’ve all heard.”
“We?”
“This way.”
I followed Professor Edmiston down the central corridor to the right, past torches flickering with a deep golden light, which lent the space a very formal and somewhat tense atmosphere.
We turned into another, narrower corridor on the left, between two of the larger lecture halls. A door at the end of the corridor stood open, and a jumble of whispered conversation leaked from it, the voices too muddled for me to identify or understand.
“Just through here.” Professor Edmiston indicated the open door.
I stepped into a conference room dominated by a long, heavy table.
Sunlight streamed through three tall windows, but a series of lanterns had been lit in a line down the center of the table as well, giving the room a surprisingly functional blend of only slightly flickering flame and strong, clean daylight.
Only a few of the heavy wooden chairs were occupied, but I caught merely an impression of several dark robes with distinctive collars, indicating both professors and staff researchers, before a familiar and unexpected form stationed near the door captured my full attention.
Cressa Baxter stood poised and silent with her wax tablet at the ready, and though she nodded at me, she did not offer an encouraging smile. And if she was in attendance…
I redirected my gaze toward the end of the table, and indeed, there was the Bluehelm, sliding her chair back so she could stand, her dark eyes piercing above pale, gaunt cheeks.
“Amber. Thank you for joining us,” she said as Cressa closed the door.
I murmured a vague acknowledgment, despite my racing pulse.
Professor Edmiston took a seat, and as my gaze slid from her, the face to the Bluehelm’s left came into focus.
Desmond.
No wonder he hadn’t been in his lab; he’d been here, evidently discussing my future at the Alchemary, in my absence.
Across from him sat Professor Bollinger, who stared at me over the round frames of his spectacles. Next to the professor sat Dr. Winhoof, whose fine white hair looked virtually translucent in the bright daylight streaming into the room.
“It’s our understanding that there was an incident last night in the third-floor student laboratory,” the Bluehelm began.
I nodded, grasping for the best way to explain how and why I’d broken the stained glass, and when my silence only echoed throughout the room, Desmond broke it.
“Amber was assaulted by a fellow student, and I demand his immediate expulsion.” He spoke firmly, without raising his voice, but I sucked in a deep breath, as shocked as if he’d shouted.
He’d reframed the issue so that it wasn’t about me at all. It was about Pryce and what he’d done.
The Bluehelm turned to him. “As you know, the student in question has given a conflicting account of the event, and I’m afraid it doesn’t cast Ms. Fallbrook in an entirely flattering light.”
They’d already met with Pryce?
Desmond’s coppery-brown eyes flashed with a quiet fury. “That’s—”
“And as you also know, his parents are rather prominent alumni,” the Bluehelm continued. “It seems to me that what would be in everyone’s best interest is if we all proceed with an eye toward a cooperative outcome. A compromise.”
“Compromise?” I said, despite my reluctance to draw attention back to myself.
“Why? Who are his parents?” If they were alumni but not staff members, then they’d failed one of the Mastery-year trials.
In all likelihood, they were accredited provincial alchemists like my mother had been—perhaps large donors to the school.
Yet I found it difficult to believe that my mother, had she lived, would have had enough clout to keep me from being expelled if I’d assaulted a classmate.
Professor Edmiston cleared her throat and leaned toward me, tucking a silver ringlet behind one ear. “They both practice at court,” she whispered, even though everyone could hear her. “One of the alumni in question is personal alchemist to the Crown.”
No.
That was why Desmond had recognized Pryce’s name. I’d managed to make an enemy out of the son of the most prominent alchemist in the kingdom, other than the Bluehelm.
“It seems clear to me that two things are true at once,” the Bluehelm said. “This other student behaved abominably, in a manner unbefitting of the Alchemary. And Amber Fallbrook”—her gaze fell heavily upon me—“destroyed virtually irreplaceable, historically significant Alchemary property.”
“That was an accident,” I insisted, bolstered by the fact that she clearly understood the circumstances. “I was defending myself.” I stood straighter, small but fierce flames licking the base of my spine. “And if I hadn’t, you’d have an entirely different issue to deal with today.”
“We cannot address what did not happen,” she said.
“Regarding what did happen, an offer has been made. The other student’s family is willing to pay for the destruction of property, if you can see fit to move past their son’s poor behavior.
With the understanding, of course, that such behavior will not be repeated. ”
I took a second to process that offer. I could stay at the Alchemary, and I would incur no debt for the damage.
“All I have to do is…forgive him?”
“In a manner of speaking, yes,” the Bluehelm said.
“Though they are not requesting that you directly address him.” She exhaled slowly.
“I want to make it clear that they consider this a very generous offer, and if you were to decline, and I were forced to expel their son, I suspect they would put those same resources toward lobbying the Crown for your removal as well.”
“So, we both stay, or neither of us does?”
The Bluehelm’s brows arched at me. “You are a very bright young woman.”
“Absolutely not,” Desmond practically growled. He stood, and his chair squealed against the stone floor. “The boy is a brute, and he has no place here. Ms. Fallbrook cannot be expected to share classrooms and laboratory space with someone who is an objective threat to her person, and—”
“It is my understanding that she won’t be sharing space with him,” the Bluehelm interrupted with a glance at Cressa. “Have her supplies not already been moved to Desmond Gregory’s private laboratory?”
“That is happening as we speak,” Cressa said, without even glancing at her notes.
“An arrangement made without permission from or even notice to the Seminary faculty,” the Bluehelm noted.
Desmond scowled. “Given the advanced nature of her work, the ambitious nature of her research, and the specific needs of her current…medical condition, it only makes sense that—”
“I agree,” the Bluehelm interrupted, one hand raised for silence. “And since that arrangement was officially approved last year, I will let its extension stand. And that eliminates most of the concern with this other student, does it not?”
“It does not,” Desmond insisted. “His character is not of a suitable caliber. He dishonors the Alchemary with his very presence. I want him expelled.”
“That isn’t your decision,” I snapped, standing to confront him from across the table.
He seemed truly outraged by the very idea of Pryce Wishart continuing his studies on campus, but…
that wasn’t the entire reason for his objection.
Something familiar and infuriating lurked behind his coppery gaze—a coldly devious but effective tactic.
Desmond had realized that if he got Pryce expelled, he would no longer be dependent upon the Bluehelm to have me removed from campus. That decision would come from far above her head.
It would come from the Crown.
I glared at him, crossing my own arms over my chest to mirror his pose. “That choice is mine, as I understand it?”
The Bluehelm nodded, her attention shifting from me to Desmond, and back.
“Then I accept. The other student’s family will pay for the window on my behalf, as restitution for his offense. I will move into Des—into Mr. Gregory’s laboratory. And the other student will stay on at the Alchemary, so long as he does not exhibit such aggression again.”
“Amber—” Desmond said, and I shook my head sharply.
“I will not cut off my nose to spite my face,” I insisted.
“And I will not have it said that I only succeeded at the Alchemary by banishing my competition, or that I leveraged any personal advantage against another student.” Whether he deserved banishment or not.
The truth never spreads as faithfully as a juicy falsehood, and I would not be on the beneficial end of any gossip about me. “And you do not speak for me.”
The Bluehelm’s eyebrows rose. Over her shoulder, Cressa looked quietly amused.
Desmond’s eyes narrowed. His intense focus on me seemed to be silently asking some question I had no way of understanding, much less answering. Finally, he sighed. “That does appear to be the case.”