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P rincess Hellebore stared at the collection of death she’d amassed in front of her, grinning. Her mirth, however, was hidden beneath the goggles over her eyes and the mask over her face, filtering the air she breathed in. She lowered her charcoal as she finished recording her observations of the withering, dying plants.

She didn’t envy them. Rotting from the inside out couldn’t be pleasant. Although, it wasn’t as though Princess Hellebore had ever asked the plants. Not that it mattered. Their only purpose was to suffer.

She looked at her batch of little pots on the end of her table, given the best position in the sunlight in her lab. Well, maybe it wouldn’t be so bad for those. Even if they had any awareness—which they didn’t—wouldn’t it be better to be born with the rot and to never know anything else?

Better that than to be one of the other plants she’d gathered for her experiment, which she had purposefully spread the rot to. They had once known health and would have continued knowing it, if not for their misfortune to have ever encountered Hellebore.

She finished recording the states of all her specimens before tucking her notebook into its assigned pouch on her belt. Then she reached into another pouch and pulled out a labelled vial. With slim metal tweezers and thick leather gloves she went to her first specimen and plucked a few yellow, browning, dry leaves.

She continued on, humming slightly beneath her mask. Its job was to keep any impurities or toxins from getting into her system, but it could not fully shield her from the stench of death. Not that it mattered. She was an alchemist. She’d stopped being bothered by such trivial inconveniences since she’d turned five.

If she hadn’t toughened up then, she would have when she’d started attending the Royal Alchemists Academy eight years ago when she’d turned twelve. The Royal Alchemists Academy only took the best, and weak alchemists didn’t last long anywhere, much less there. There was no such thing as a squeamish or emotional alchemist.

Once Hellebore had collected her vials for closer observation, she tucked the last vial into her belt and made her way to the door. She could see through the glass someone was already in the other half of the lab, watching Hellebore with sharp eyes. The putrid filth of the slowly dying plants dirtied the glass and made it hard to make anything more out, not that Hellebore needed more than a glimpse to know who it was. The King’s Alchemist. Headmistress Palladia.

Or, as Hellebore knew her, Aunt Palladia.

Hellebore stepped into the antechamber where she shut the door firmly behind her. Then she set about pulling her goggles from her head, reaching up and unlatching her mask, taking a full deep breath as she set them on their shelf before she pulled off her thick leather gloves and set them aside as well. Once her hands were free, she lifted them and touched them to the transmutation formula already engraved into the wall and poured her power into it, and the water and soap sitting on the ground glowed. Hellebore closed her eyes as her alchemy went to work, using the materials and cleansing her and her clothes from anything lingering on them. Once the mist faded and she was fresh and new, she opened the second door and stepped out of the antechamber and into the rest of the lab.

Aunt Palladia unfolded her arms and raised an eyebrow. “So?”

Hellebore reached into her belt and pulled out her notebook, passing it over. “See for yourself.”

Her aunt took the notebook and started flipping through it as Hellebore pulled a stand closer to the edge of the table and began taking her vials out of their pouches and organizing them. Once Hellebore was satisfied, she grabbed the large magnifying glass that had its own long, arrangeable neck and positioned it so she could examine her first vial in a better light. She touched the formula engraved on the side, tracing it and pushing her power into it, pulling the light coming in from the windows to focus on her vials.

She would never get tired of what alchemy could do.

As Hellebore studied the vein patterns on the leaves in her second vial, her aunt closed the notebook and set it on the table. Aunt Palladia said, “Even after you’ve turned in your dissertation, here you are still pursuing the project. You’re nothing if not dedicated to your project.”

Hellebore looked at her through the distorted reflection. “I should hope so. What kind of alchemist would I be if I stopped studying simply because the school year came to a close? But the real question is—”

“You know full well you’re going to graduate with honors.” Aunt Palladia grinned. “I just spoke with your teachers and got your results. Your hard work has paid off.”

“That was a given. That wasn’t my question.” Hellebore’s stomach turned. Was it really her hard work? Or was it because her father was the king and her aunt headmistress?

“Then what is?”

Hellebore swallowed her real question and hid it behind a smirk. “Will they be publishing my results and sending it to the other academies?”

While they might boost her marks in order to ensure her graduation regardless of her merit in order to please her family, surely her teachers wouldn’t publish her work if it didn’t call for such acclaim, right?

“I haven’t yet heard anything about publication, but I have no doubt it will be nominated and in the next rounds, as it deserves,” Palladia said, a sharp edge lining her words.

If Palladia took that tone with Hellebore’s teachers, then they absolutely would publish her work no matter how undeserving.

Hellebore pulled back, stifling her sigh and ensuring she kept her face impassive as she walked around the table. When she passed the window, she paused and looked out of it. Her lab faced the northeast and with how high up she was, she could see past the walls around the academy and out into the rolling green hills that shifted into rockier craigs, marking the border of Chymes.

The scene was a stark contrast to the rotting plants around her. The vivid green grass and healthy vibrant trees blended with bushes of orange and yellow flowers in full bloom. Even as the terrain shifted into the rockier grounds, flowers and grass could be seen amidst the craigs, brimming with life.

Just beyond it was Iubar. The kingdom of the Sun Elves.

Now a real experiment would be if she could get her hands on one of their famous Sunrise Irises. Being able to see how a magical plant—especially one that was just brimming with the same magic that raced through the Sun Elves’ blood—fared against Hellebore’s poison and rot would change the game. Using alchemy on a magical plant or creature was a lost art and even in its heyday, something only the best could master. If she could manage it, she’d prove her worth as an alchemist had nothing to do with her blood. And that would only be the beginning. There were so many ways she could use Sunrise Irises.

No living alchemist had ever studied a magical plant or creature. Alchemy, while “magic,” was completely different in its structure, unlike the Sunrise Irises or the elves, or even the witches, where magic sang in their blood. Alchemists manipulated, they didn’t create. Chymes didn’t have magic in its makeup the way Iubar did.

What better way to prove herself worthy to be Palladia’s successor than to eclipse her?

The problem? All the Sunrise Irises were on the Sun Elf side of the border.

“Not on your life, Hels.” Aunt Palladia’s voice brought Hellebore out of her ruminations.

Hellebore shook her head and flashed her aunt a smile, returning to her table. When hadn’t Aunt Palladia been able to guess Hellebore’s thoughts as they formed?

“I would never. I’m just saying, maybe if things go well, the king of the Sun Elves will soften the terms of our truce and we could politely request an iris. We’ve been very well behaved for hundreds of years now. I think we’ve earned a little trust.”

Aunt Palladia snorted, crossing her arms as a dark scowl overtook her face, the same one she always wore when the Sun Elves were brought up. “I wouldn’t count on it. Those creatures would never give you one simply because you asked nicely. The only way you’d ever be able to get one is to steal one. Or trick an elf into giving you one. While it’s been centuries, to them that’s nothing. The current king’s great-grandfather was the one who lived during the raids and war but for us it’s been eight generations.”

Hellebore opened her mouth, but Palladia was shaking her head, lifting her hand. “Hels, you have no idea how long their memories are. How long they hold grudges for. Trust me, you’ll be lucky if you never lay eyes on one all the days of your life.”

“Oh, there’s a creature out there who can hold a grudge longer than you?” Hellebore’s teasing tone, however, did not banish her aunt’s scowl.

“I mean it.” Palladia’s steely expression cracked for only a brief second. “It’s a very good thing you’re here at the academy and not in the capital, not that I would have let that happen in the first place. No Sun Elf will get within ten feet of my favorite niece. I’d rather they not get anywhere near your brother, either, but unfortunately your father insisted Callahan be present.”

Hellebore rolled her eyes. “That’s because if Cal is in meetings with our father and the elves, it means he’s not flitting about breaking poor chambermaids’ hearts when they see how flaky he is.”

Palladia shook her head. “Better a flirtation with a maid than to spend a second with the elves. My brother hasn’t told me yet if he’s gotten to the bottom of what they’re after. I don’t believe the elves’ excuse for a second that they want to revisit the treaty. They already did when your father took the throne twenty-five years ago.”

Hellebore pushed the magnifying glass back to its normal position and began to swap the vials. “The obvious answer is because of the Moon Elves. My former enemy might be a valuable ally against my new one, and all that. Or maybe it involves the upcoming solar eclipse.”

Aunt Palladia only pursed her lips, staring out the window and at the border. “Those are the most likely possibilities. It would be foolish of them to come looking for trouble with us, knowing the threat they face from the Moon Elves and the eclipse.”

Her aunt’s tone, however, betrayed her. Hellebore followed her aunt’s gaze. “Did Father tell you why he wanted you to stay here? Meeting with our neighbors and former enemies without the King’s Alchemist herself is a strange choice.”

Aunt Palladia raised an eyebrow. “Probably because he doesn’t want to remind King Taiyo of my existence. Or of alchemists in general. We’ve met once and that was plenty.”

Aunt Palladia’s voice scraped over the king’s name. Hellebore had never gotten the full story of what happened to make her aunt hate the Sun Elves, especially their king. The times it had come up, her aunt had always waved it away, promising to tell Hellebore when she was older.

And yet, here she was, older, and still no answers.

Hellebore was about to try asking again when her aunt took her by her arm and started leading her out of her lab. “While I, more than anyone, love your dedication, you have been in here for the whole day suffocating on decay, and you need to eat and rest. We’ll be leaving for the capital in a week for your graduation, once the elves are gone.”

“And?” Hellebore raised an eyebrow as she stepped out into the hallway.

Aunt Palladia wrapped an arm around her and pulled her into a tight side hug as they walked. “And I’ll officially name you as my successor. The next King’s Alchemist.”

Hellebore squeezed her aunt back, ignoring the hollow feeling in her chest and the voice that whispered she didn’t deserve it. Instead, she straightened up and lifted her chin with a proud smirk. “I imagine my father and brother are already fretting about what the two of us will accomplish when I take my position as your successor.”

“Your father has been worrying about that since the day you were born. He knew when he laid eyes on you his wife had really just given birth to another me.”

“We’re just keeping tradition. Every second sibling who proves themselves becomes the King’s Alchemist. Really, what’s so frightening to him about that?”

“It’s not your being an alchemist he’s afraid of. It’s how much we’re alike.”

“What’s so bad about that?” Hellebore’s fingers brushed over her belt. Would she ever be half as skilled as Palladia? “I’m proud to be considered like you in any way. I’ve always wanted to be. It’s my destiny.”

Palladia tilted her head. “Well, in every way but one.”

Hellebore furrowed her brow, searching her mind for any difference there was between her and her mentor so that she could quickly correct it.

Palladia cleared her throat as they walked through the pristine stone hallways. “Except for the fact that you will marry while that was not my fate.”

Oh, right. Hellebore huffed, glancing around to ensure no one was around. “Emerson hasn’t said anything about proposing, and neither has Cal. You know how terrible he is with secrets. If my brother’s closest friend was thinking of proposing to me after I graduate, wouldn’t he tell him? And if Cal knew about it, we would too. He can’t keep a secret to save his life.”

“The rumor is Emerson will propose after graduation, once he has your father’s permission. Why else do you think Emerson went to the capital with your brother? He’s asking for your hand, which he should get easily since your father loves anything that would make us less alike.”

Hellebore rolled her eyes. “It’s not becoming for Headmistresses to be listening to the gossip of idle students.”

“Oh, give an aging woman her fun.”

They came to a stop, where Hellebore would descend into the lower levels where—if he were at the academy—she would go find Emerson and eat with him in the mess hall as they always did even before they’d entered the flirtation they’d been carrying on for a year now. Well, flirtation on his side. Hellebore tolerated him because he was her brother’s oldest friend and a skilled alchemist in his own right. It didn’t hurt that he looked good on her arm.

She looked up at her aunt. “Did you ever regret it?”

“Regret what?”

“Not getting married, having children?”

Palladia turned to face Hellebore, putting her hands on her shoulders before reaching up and cupping her cheeks. “Never. Not since the day I held your brother and then four years later you as well. What need do I have for children when I have loved you as my own since your birth and your mother’s passing?”

“You never desired a marriage of your own?”

Palladia sighed. “It was not the path for me. And while we might be alike, that is where we will differ, because I know it is meant for you.”

Hellebore nodded, biting her tongue. She wasn’t convinced it was. But Emerson was acceptable, he was an alchemist, from a good family, and a loyal friend to her brother. If Hellebore had never been born, he would be the obvious choice to be the next King’s Alchemist. Hellebore and Emerson were a perfect match on paper. But what if she was like Palladia and she wasn’t meant for it?

Would he be miserable? Would she?

Would they all be better off if she kept to the exact path her aunt walked? Was she even worthy of that path? How could she really know if she deserved everything that had been given to her?

Hellebore looked at the window again and the craigs in the distance.

What she did know was that she wasn’t going to be on the border and so close to a Sunrise Iris for long.

No one ever needed to know.