Helena caught him by the shoulder. “You can’t get up yet. You’re not recovered.”
He placed his hand over hers, trying to squeeze, but instead his fingers spasmed. “My father cannot find me here. I don’t need to recover anymore. You have to leave tonight. I can’t make it a perfect trip, but there’s enough in place. You’ll be able to manage.”
“T-Tonight?”
He said nothing else. He stood up, pulling the needle from his arm, and dressing quickly. He struggled with the buttons on his shirt; Helena had to help him.
“My eyes are getting better already,” he said, his voice hoarse. “I can see how disapproving you look.”
He took her hands in his and after some difficulty managed to get his fingers steady enough to remove the manacles. She locked the copper back around her wrists herself.
“Keep the door locked,” he said. “I’ll be back by nightfall.”
CHAPTER 73
Julius 1789
HELENA STUDIED THE ROOM AROUND HER. IT was still cold there, even in the heat of summer. All the iron did not allow for much warmth. The sheets of her bed were stained with blood. The scent of decay lingered on the air, a creeping necrotic rot that had infected everything in her life.
It was strange to stand inside a prison, and dread leaving it.
She heard shouting and went to the window in time to see Kaine emerging from the front doors. He was moving more easily now. Atreus stood in the doorway, screaming at him with such rage that Helena couldn’t make out his words.
Kaine just went into the stable and brought out Amaris, pulling himself onto her back with almost convincing ease.
Atreus was still shouting as Amaris flew away.
She watched him shake his fists at the sky. Seeing Crowther’s living corpse never failed to unnerve her.
Atreus finally stopped screaming at the sky and stood a moment longer, before looking directly at the window where Helena stood.
She stepped back instantly, but it was too late; he’d seen her watching. An inexplicable sense of dread pierced her to the marrow.
She went and checked that the door was securely locked, feeling all the iron inside the door and walls. It was barricaded and reinforced. There was no way for him to get in.
Reassured, she sat studying the array she’d designed, tracing her fingers along the lines. The design would work, it would create the power and stability she’d need, but it didn’t matter because it required five components, and she only had three of them.
She’d wasted so much time.
She buried her face in her hands for a moment, but her head jerked up at the smell of smoke and charred meat.
There was black smoke wafting into her room, and then the door began to char, the iron barring smouldering, as a dim red glow grew slowly brighter.
“Come out, come out, little prisoner.” Crowther’s voice came from the other side. “I want to talk to you.”
Helena watched in horror as the wood charred away, and Atreus became visible through the iron bars. He looked almost alive, the red glow giving colour to the dead grey skin.
The bars keeping him out grew hotter and brighter, changing from a red to orange, and the room began to burst into flame, the wallpaper spontaneously igniting. There was a sharp crack as the glass casing in the corner broke, the eye plummeting into the fire that was crawling up the wall.
Crowther would never in his life have bothered to utilise his pyromancy to manipulate something as inferior as iron, but Atreus Ferron, the iron guildmaster, was trying to bend iron to his will once more.
If he couldn’t, he’d probably burn her alive in this room instead.
“What do you want?” she said.
“I have questions for you,” Atreus said. “Come here.”
She hesitated.
“You don’t want to smother to death inside that room, do you?” The rug began to smoke. “Come. Here.”
Helena went forward, carefully, trying to stay back from the most intense heat. She could only hope that Atreus still lacked Luc and Crowther’s talent for distance pyromancy.
A terrible smile spread across his face. “I’ve had many bodies over the years, but it’s strange—this one has a violent reaction to the sight of you. You knew him, didn’t you? Well, I believe.”
Helena’s steps faltered. She’d never heard of liches retaining the memories of the corpses they occupied, but there was no reason why some remnants might not linger.
“I didn’t remember you at first. I thought it was only the corpse reacting, but when you attacked my son, it reminded me of that night. I barely recalled that body, it was too long dead before they brought it back, but I remembered you. The High Necromancer was pleased to finally get some answers about that bombing. As a reward, he shared some of the technique this resonance requires.” Crowther’s spider-like fingers twisted, and the heat intensified.
Helena said nothing. The iron between them glowed brighter, and the wall smouldered as it charred away. Atreus was keeping the fire contained, but he could burn the room down around her if he chose.
The heat of the glowing iron was distorting the air and threatening to scorch her skin.
“Strange attack, that bombing. That Lancaster mongrel was beside himself at the sight of you. I was told you did it all alone, but I’ve seen your records. You were nobody. No training, no combat experience. I’m expected to believe an unranked healer was single-handedly responsible for one of the most devastating attacks we sustained?”
Stroud had also commented on the lack of records surrounding Helena. She hadn’t questioned it at the time—much of her healing had been treated as religious intercession rather than medical work—but Crowther had made her put her name down in the prisoner files, chaining her to him. And there had been all her work with Shiseo, the medicine, the chelators. The bomb. There would have been records of that.
Unless …
Kaine wouldn’t have wanted her to be a person of interest to the Undying. And Shiseo, if he had been planted, waiting in Central in case Helena ever reappeared—he couldn’t have any records tying him to her.
“You were a decoy, weren’t you?” Atreus said, interrupting her thoughts. “Everyone knows how the Eternal Flame saw your kind; who better to use as a sacrificial pawn to protect the true last member of the Eternal Flame.”
He grinned maniacally as he said it, his face aglow with triumph.
Helena had assumed that Atreus had come because he was suspicious about Kaine’s injury, but no, this was about his mission. All his interrogations and victims had yielded no results, and so he’d turned his sights to Helena.
“You were sent here because you know something of vital importance. The High Necromancer entrusted my son to find it, but now he’s grown so concerned with the thing growing inside you, he’s forgotten that you know who the killer is. The one who bombed the banquet and the West Port Lab. Once I’ve caught them, the High Necromancer will have nothing to fear.”
The iron glowed yellow, and the bars were beginning to droop as they turned molten.
“I don’t remember,” Helena said, her blood becoming a roaring pressure in her ears as the growing heat rippled across her skin. It was getting hard to breathe. “I can’t remember anything about that. The High Reeve tried to find out, but if I ever knew it, it’s lost.”
“I don’t believe you.” Atreus stepped back and kicked the door. The drooping iron bars folded in on themselves, collapsing. As he stepped through, Helena caught sight of a charred mass crumpled on the floor.