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H ellebore was scaling down the outer wall of the academy grounds when the sound of the guards’ voices caused her to freeze in place, feet braced against the wall. But none of the voices were near her.

She looked to the side and out into the night to see two riders approaching the academy’s walls at a furious, breakneck pace. Wait… She recognized those horses.

Callahan and Emerson. What were they doing racing back to the academy when she and Aunt Palladia were about to travel to the capital?

She’d find out as soon as she got back with her treasure. If the Sun Elves would never give them a Sunrise Iris, she’d just sneak one away and they’d never notice. They were scheduled to be back in Iubar by the time she and Palladia reached the capital.

She’d never show anyone. But she needed it. If she had it and managed feats in secret no other living alchemist could, she could rest assured she did deserve her position.

She waited for the gates to open and her brother and Emerson to race through before she finished her descent. She hit the ground and transmuted her thin rope back into the coat it had originally been and then she shrugged it on over her blouse, kirtle, and skirt, bustled up into her belt. She then slunk into the shadows, kept low to the ground, and hurried off to the border.

Hellebore knew she wouldn’t have long, not with Emerson and Callahan’s return, but if she’d gone back, she wouldn’t get another chance. So she ran as fast as she could once she was out of the guards’ sight, her braid whipping through the air and her belt full of tools painfully jostling against her waist and hips.

Dawn was breaking as she reached the rocky craigs that marked the border, and she immediately started clambering down the slopes and deeper into enemy territory. Once she was on the other side, she paused, taking the time to catch her breath and to start looking around for any irises.

But there were no plants. Not… too odd, given the rocky soil. She would have to go deeper. She forced herself to press on, climbing up over rocks, seeing a large forest in the distance grow larger as she got closer. That was farther beyond the border than she wanted to go, but she would have to if this stretch wasn’t producing—

Hellebore stopped as she spotted a few flowers springing up between rocks. Unfortunately, they weren’t Sunrise Irises. It was hard to tell what they were, even as she knelt on the ground in front of them. She flipped open her notebook to her sketch of the flowers in her current experiments and held it up to the drooping, brittle, browning thing.

They were different species but the same appearance. It was sick. Strange.

If she had an extra pot, she would have taken one.

Instead, she pushed herself to her feet and pressed on. She was crossing the last stretch of boulders before an empty field that led up to the forest when she finally spotted the brilliant, glowing orange, gold, and pink iris that she was looking for. She reached into a pouch and checked her Alchemist’s Compass, pointing right at the flower in front of her.

A Sunrise Iris.

An Alchemist’s Compass pointed in the direction of whatever the formula written on its back determined. Hellebore had hers set to point in the direction of Sun Elf magic, the same type the Sunrise Iris had.

Hellebore knelt in front of it, dropping her compass to the ground beside her. She pulled out her pot and trowel from their respective pockets and began to carefully prepare the pot and dig up the plant without killing it. The formulas etched into her gloves helped as she was able to pour her power into them and activate the formulas as needed to repair any damage to the plant that occurred. The sun had fully risen by the time she got the flower safely into the pot and she started packing up, but then she looked over to see her compass’s needle spinning wildly.

A shadow blocked the warm sun on her back.

Her stomach dropped.

She looked up. At first glance, he looked like a human man, especially as the sun behind him made it harder to make out his features. However, he tilted his head as he looked down at her. The sunlight highlighted the sloping point of his ear and showed that while half of his hair was black, it shifted into orange and gold farther down, perfectly matching the potted iris sitting in her lap.

Her compass had settled on pointing directly at him.

A Sun Elf.

Her Iubian Elvish was rusty, but she managed a, “Hello…”

She’d been caught iris-handed.

And as she looked around, this wasn’t a random elf who’d wandered near the border as well. There were several more scattered around them as well, and given their manner of dress, she’d bet they were a patrol. They were likely there specifically to catch any greedy little alchemists who got in over their heads trying to steal flowers, or worse, elves for experiments.

The one standing over her turned to the others and said something so quickly Hellebore wasn’t able to make out any of it before he started to bend down to grab her arm. They were going to arrest her. Which, if she was being fair, they had every right to.

Her father was going to be furious.

And they would have a hostage. At least if she could get back over the border, her only problem would be her father’s wrath.

Hellebore hadn’t come into enemy territory unprepared. She grabbed her trowel and swung with all her strength, slamming it into the elf’s leg. He stumbled, letting out a muffled grunt as he lost his balance, and she shot to her feet. She started running, but there were six other Sun Elves she had to get past.

She reached into a pouch and quickly activated the formula, throwing the pellets as she did so. Smoke poured out, flooding the area. She considered for a second trying to take the iris with her, but thought better of it, abandoning it and focusing on preserving her life and country’s dignity. She pulled her mask out of her bag and held it to her face as she started running while the air filled with coughs.

A voice ripped through the air, shouting the same word again and again between coughs.

Hellebore at least hoped to make it to the rockier part of the stretch where she might be able to hide long enough for them to think they lost her. She had no hope of actually outrunning elves.

A hand grabbed her arm as she tried to duck past one of them, and it ripped the mask from her face. She quickly turned, used her other hand to reach into another pouch, pulling out her knife and slicing the arm of whoever had grabbed her. The second the elf started bleeding, Hellebore took advantage of it.

It was do or die.

She’d already violated the treaty trying to take the iris; how much worse could it be to use a little blood if it would get her to safety?

She took the knife and cut into her glove, altering the formula as she took hold of the magic in the blood and began transmuting. She ripped the sun magic out of the elf’s blood and made it hers to command, sending a blade of light in a circle around her, knocking the elves back.

Any other day she would have been basking in such a historic achievement.

There’d be time for that later. She released the elf and took off again, but without her mask, she was coughing horribly. She only made it a few steps before a weight slammed into her back and she went crashing to the ground. The smoke began to clear as the weight pressed down harder and hands grabbed hers, pulling them up above her head and far away from her belt and curling around them to trap her fingers so she couldn’t do any alchemy.

She looked up out of the corner of her eye to see it was the original elf pinning her down, but he didn’t look satisfied. He was panting for breath and glaring at her.

One of the other elves spoke and Hellebore thought the sentence translated to something about “having her” and “want to do now.”

He stared down at her, her face turned and one side pressed into the dirt. She narrowed her eyes right back at him.

He muttered something. He might have said something about “doing things the hard way,” but she was too dazed to be sure.

Then he looked up at the elf who had spoken and said something involving “difficult,” “run,” and “restrain.”

Then he released her hands, quickly shifting to her waist, and she gasped when her belt loosened and he pulled it back, passing it to another elf. She tried to get her arms under her and crawl out from under him, but his weight on her back kept her pinned as he grabbed her arms and pulled them behind her back.

He ripped her gloves off her hands, cursing at the blood still on them.

She closed her eyes as he staggered to his feet while another elf began binding her wrists together. If the Sun Elves didn’t kill her, her father was going to.

Maybe she should let the Sun Elves do whatever they liked to do with alchemists. It couldn’t be pleasant, but maybe it was better than having to face her father and the consequences of her foolishness.