It had created a perpetual cycle of grievances in which everyone found the current circumstances unfair, but no one would agree to a solution. Principate Helios had tried for decades, and it had resulted in mass riots and labour strikes.
The Undying had seemingly solved the mining issue by using necrothralls, avoiding both lumithium shortages and exponential competition, which made for bitter irony: The war had so decimated the alchemist population that now they needed a breeding program to revive it.
She squinted, trying to see the tube running through her wrist more clearly, to work out what it was. It appeared to be encased in ceramic. Which might mean it was breakable, although more likely it meant the metal was corrosive.
Lumithium wasn’t corrosive, though. It was categorically noble, an incorruptible metal, less perfect than gold but superior to silver, which tarnished. Perhaps a lumithium alloy?
She couldn’t think of many lumithium alloys, though, as it was predominantly used in the emanations needed to increase or stabilise the resonance of other metals.
She suspected that the resonance suppression was some kind of Eastern alchemy. The Eastern Empire was very secretive of their alchemy, and Shiseo had been the one who’d put the manacles on her.
While she was still scrutinising, the door opened. She glanced over, expecting Ferron, but found a stranger staring at her, his face alight.
He slipped in, shutting the door softly, looking around, as if he expected to be immediately stopped. When nothing happened, a slow smile spread across his face.
He came towards Helena on quick, quiet steps.
He was solidly built, with wheat-coloured hair and a square face. He was dressed in a deep-blue frock coat and cape that had geometric embroidery decorating it, and a deep-burgundy cravat at his throat.
Helena’s instinctive response to the sight of him was absolute terror.
It had never occurred to her that a stranger might one day walk into the room. Her hands spasmed, sending a shock of pain up her arms.
He paused.
“You don’t remember me,” he said in disbelief. There was a hint of offence in the way he said it, as if she should know him instantly.
Helena studied him wildly, trying to guess at who he could be. His voice was vaguely familiar, but she couldn’t place where she’d heard it.
His expression grew eager, triumphant as he got closer. His hand extended, fingers curved and grasping.
The door slammed open so abruptly the room seemed to jolt.
“Lose your way, Lancaster?” Ferron said as he entered, his eyes burning an irate silver.
A flood of relief rushed through Helena.
Lancaster straightened instantly, the hurried shiftiness falling away as he pivoted to face Ferron, giving a careless shrug. Ferron passed him without a glance.
“Just exploring this mansion of yours,” he said. “Got curious when I saw her.”
He nodded towards Helena just as Ferron stepped between them. Helena shrank towards Ferron without thinking, so close she could smell the scent of juniper on his clothes.
“She’s not available for entertainment,” Ferron said, his voice chilly. “You’ll have to find someone else to amuse yourself with. I’m sure you’ll manage.”
Lancaster laughed. “But you got her in the papers and everything.” He pouted. “Surely you allow her visitors?”
“No, I don’t,” Ferron said after giving Helena a perfunctory glance. “And in the future, if you’re curious about something of mine, you may ask. We should return to the party. I imagine Aurelia misses us.”
He rested a gloved hand on Lancaster’s shoulder and steered him firmly towards the door. Lancaster glanced back at Helena, the intensity returning to his eyes, as if there was something he was trying desperately to communicate to her.
Helena watched him vanish through the doorway, trying to place the name.
Lancaster.
A guild name. Nickel. Yes, the nickel guild. There’d been a Lancaster in her year, or perhaps the year above? Erik Lancaster.
Why would he expect Helena to recognise him?
As she stood wondering over this, the faint sound of music drifted through the closed door.
It dawned on her then why there was someone in the house. The Ferrons were hosting a solstice eve party.
She had no idea they hosted anything. The parts of the house she’d seen were so dirty, she’d be embarrassed to admit guests. However, the hibernal solstice was one of Paladia’s most significant holidays, and given how closely the summer solstice was tied to the Holdfasts, it was probably the only major holiday the Undying were still allowed to celebrate.
She went to the door. Despite the danger, she was burning with curiosity. She knew there’d be Undying and liches present. Anyone invited would be an Aspirant or at least supportive of the regime.
It might be her best chance to get herself killed. She gripped the knob, then paused; it was more likely that they’d just torture her. She wavered. In that case, unless Ferron intervened, there’d be little she could do to protect herself.
Her instinctive relief at his appearance unsettled her in more ways than she wanted to think about, and she would think about it if she spent the entire evening in her room.
She opened the door.
Even though her exploration of the house while drugged by that tablet had made it possible for her to pass the hallway shadows without panicking, she still had to take several steadying breaths before she could make herself cross the threshold.
She went towards the main wing.
The music grew louder. She paused, checking to ensure all was clear.
She scarcely recognised the house. The sconces and chandeliers were all lit and gleaming, everything sparkling in a way Helena hadn’t known Spirefell could.
She crept down the hall, but before she could turn the corner, she heard the rustle of fabric and a woman’s hushed giggle. She shrank back, holding her breath as she melted into the shadows, trying not to feel them closing around her. Aurelia darted around the corner, pulling someone along by their wrist, drawing him into the darkness at the far end of the corridor.
It was not Ferron.
Helena couldn’t see much from her vantage point, but the build and hair were unmistakably wrong.
Aurelia leaned against the wall with an eager laugh, and the man closed in on her until Helena couldn’t see her anymore. There was more rustling fabric, and then the giggling gave way to breathy gasps and hushed moans and audible groaning.
Helena stared in horrified disbelief, not sure what to do until the thought occurred to her: Ferron would watch his wife having an affair when he checked Helena’s memories.
She scrambled away from the shadows and fled silently up the nearest stair.
With her preferred route cut off, she resigned herself to approaching from a higher floor. She could hear the hum of voices like a hive of bees. It was a large party.
She’d peeked into an abandoned ballroom during her drugged exploration of the house. On the third floor there was a cramped, twisty little stairway that led to the balcony alcove over the ballroom where the chandelier could be pulled up for cleaning.
She crept up the stairs and then knelt, peeking over the railing, her loose hair falling around her face. She noticed with irritation that there was a mesh safety net over the opening, as if Ferron had somehow foreseen that she’d go there and might attempt suicide during his party.
She hadn’t even been thinking about it, but she was annoyed at finding herself preemptively thwarted.
She peered past the net. The ballroom was filled with people and corpses. Everyone was gleaming, decked with fabric, jewels, and finery. Even at a distance, she could tell their clothing was covered in intricate decorations. Silver fine as moonlight, and platinum and gold that seemed to glow amid the gemstones and yards of richly dyed fabrics. The wealth of the guests dripped off them.