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I pored over alchemy texts for some sort of poison that would work on one person but not another, but past scholars had unfortunately been smart enough not to write such treasonous things down and store them in the imperial library. Surely, if alchemy could resurrect people, then it was advanced enough to produce a poison that was inert until activated—something to kill the Empress without hurting the taste tester. The prince reluctantly gave me a box of mice that would have otherwise been snake food and said I could experiment on them, but I didn’t even know where to begin.

After three days of research that turned up nothing at all, the Paper Alchemist and the River Alchemist found me sitting under a tree in the training grounds, glaring into my mouse box. Durian the duck sat sleeping by my side. He peeped so incessantly whenever I tried to leave him alone in the room that I’d had no choice but to bring him along.

“What did those rats do to offend you so much?” the River Alchemist said.

“They’re mice,” said the Paper Alchemist, peering into the box. “Is this one of Moon’s new training techniques?”

I shook my head. “I’m studying anatomy to better understand blood alchemy,” I said, my prepared excuse in case the Moon Alchemist found me.

“Studying mouse anatomy?” the Paper Alchemist said. “I heard you’ve already been doing blood alchemy on humans.”

I glared harder at the mice, as if my bad excuse was their fault. I couldn’t exactly tell the other alchemists I was trying to poison the Empress. “I’m working on a...personal project,” I said.

“Personalas in something Moon doesn’t want you to do?” the River Alchemist said, raising an eyebrow.

“No!” I said. “I mean, she hasn’t objected. Mostly because I haven’t asked her.”

“Sounds dangerous. I’m in,” the River Alchemist said, sitting down.

“Explain, Scarlet,” the Paper Alchemist said, sitting next to the River Alchemist and crossing her arms.

I hadn’t wanted anyone else involved, but somehow I’d ended up with two alchemists staring at me expectantly. SayingIt’s such a big secret that I can’t tell you eitherfelt more dangerous than saying nothing at all.

I pressed my lips together, taking a moment to select my words with exquisite care. “I want to transform some mice but not all of them,” I said slowly. The other alchemists stared at me blankly, waiting for more. “Can some creatures be made impervious to alchemy?”

“All bodies are different, so they respond differently to alchemy, but no one is completely impervious,” the Paper Alchemist said, frowning.

“Okay, but...” I bit my lip, gathering my thoughts. “What if all the mice were exposed to the same substance. Is there a way I could use alchemy to change how some of them react to it?”

“It depends on the substance,” the River Alchemist said. “Are you talking about something environmental, or something they consume?”

“Something they consume.”

“Like fruit and seeds?”

“Like...arsenic.”

The alchemists across from me went quiet, their expressions suddenly too careful, too reserved.

“You mean, hypothetically?” the Paper Alchemist said, her posture rigid. “Because you know that we don’t experiment with arsenic here. You’re asking because it’s a thought exercise and not something you would actually do, right, Scarlet?” Her words had an odd edge to them, a sharp sort of desperation.

“Yes,” I said quickly. “Of course.”

“Because you know that talking about this sort of thing in front of people you don’t trust is dangerous, don’t you?” said the River Alchemist, her eyes wide. “Wecan talk about it, because we know that you have no way to actually get your hands on arsenic, anyway.”

They knew no such thing, but I nodded anyway.

“Then, hypothetically, what are you actually asking us?” the Paper Alchemist said.

I swallowed, looking between their fearful expressions. In the tense silence of the empty courtyard, it seemed as if the whole world was waiting for my next words.

“If I were to feed arsenic to two mice, but I only want one of them to die, how could I do that?” I asked quietly.

For a long moment, the alchemists only stared at me. The longer they took to answer, the more I started to realize how much of a mistake this was. It was all fun and games when we were fooling around in trees, but that didn’t mean I could trust them with my life.

“You can’t,” the River Alchemist said at last.

I dropped my gaze to the box of scurrying mice, too afraid that the alchemists would be able to read my disappointment, would know exactly what I was doing from my eyes alone.