by Nina Walker
I frowned. What did they know that I didn’t?
The room was silent as I considered my next move. If I lied to cover for her, I risked getting caught. I didn’t care about what would happen to me as much as I cared about how it would damage my family. What would this woman do to my parents if she knew I was hiding alchemy? I had heard rumors of people losing their jobs and homes, being forced to relocate to undesirable locations and work long hours in factories or other menial jobs outside the capital city. Was it true?
Surely, the consequences couldn’t be that harsh? Surely, it was understandable why a sixteen-year-old girl wouldn’t want her little sister to be taken away?
Surely, New Colony didn’t care?
I didn’t think my parents knew about Lacey, but if they did, what would they do? If I told the truth right now, then Lacey would be taken from our home. There was no way they’d be okay with that.
Her color alchemy had been an accident. No one had meant to break any laws. From the looks on the officials’ faces, they wouldn’t take pity on us either way. Maybe Faulk could help Lacey, but that was a risk I couldn’t take.
And of course, there was ballet to think about. Ballet was my life. My passion. I’d worked so hard to become a dancer with New Colony’s Royal Ballet Company. Last season I was signed as a novice, and had attended classes nonstop for months. I had pushed myself through vigorous training and worked through the pain of bruised feet and sore muscles—not to mention the mental and emotional stresses that were normal in the world of competitive dance.
I’ve worked too hard to let anything get in my way.
Tonight, in fact, was one of the deciding moments of my life. I had landed a solo. And, as small as it was, it was a significant step forward for my professional career. I finally had a chance to dance on the most coveted stage, in front of a truly respectable audience. The royal family, many members of the court, high-ranking citizens, and government officials, were all scheduled to attend. It would be the chance of a lifetime. My problem? The opening performance was tonight. If I told the truth now, I would certainly lose the opportunity. I’d no doubt be sent away for more questioning.
Even if that didn’t happen, if word got out about Lacey, the Royal Ballet Company wouldn’t want me anymore. They were incredibly cautious about their reputation—any opportunities they afforded us dancers came with the expectation that we were unblemished model citizens. I had no doubt that hiding a color alchemist would make me unsavory. I might never be allowed to put on another pointe shoe.
That thought alone terrified me far beyond Faulk’s threats.
“I honestly don’t know what you’re talking about,” I told Faulk. “I’ve never even seen color alchemy in person. Most people never do. And it’s not like I would know what it was if I saw it.”
Faulk shook her head. “I’ve been doing my job a long time, Jessa. I know that the most probable scenario here is that someone in this family or Lacey herself caused the abnormality in her blood. And you all also have the biggest motive to keep any involvement with color alchemy hidden. Illegally, I might add. So if you choose to keep lying to me, where do you think I will go from here?”
This can’t be happening. How am I going to fix this? If I don’t figure out how to get these people out of here, Faulk will take Lacey away for sure.
The idea came quickly, like an unexpected gift.
“Didn’t they give Lacey a blood transfusion? Have you questioned everyone at the hospital? Maybe there was an accident.”
Faulk paused, and from the frustration lining her face, I knew I had backed her into a corner.
She stood up, barking orders at the other royal officers to get ready to head back to headquarters. From the way she took control over everyone, I figured she was a general or something. Didn’t matter. A wave of triumph swept through my body. She wouldn’t be gone forever, but at least I’d bought us some time.
My parents, each visibly relieved, stood to see the officers out. I smiled slightly, happy that I’d managed to save the day.
When she got to our front door, Faulk turned around and gave her final warning. “Color alchemy is an extremely rare and dangerous talent. There are reasons we’ve created strict laws policing it. Those who don’t know how to use it properly aren’t just hurting themselves. They are ticking time bombs waiting to explode.”
She slowly looked us each over as she waited for someone to break. When a confession didn’t come, she nodded at one of her remaining royal officers. He was the oldest man in the room, and I could tell he didn’t buy my story either.
“Let’s go, Thomas. I’ve got a busy day. I don’t have time to deal with people who won’t talk.”
The man began rallying the final few officers out the door. They were eerily quiet for such large creatures.
“You had your chance,” Faulk added as she moved out into the morning light. The door shook when she slammed it behind her.
We sat there for a moment, frozen, before Lacey broke the silence.
“Am I in trouble?” She rubbed her red-rimmed eyes.
“Don’t worry, honey,” I said, reaching for her hand again. “Everything is going to be okay. Let’s just get back to our day and forget about all of this.”
“What’s going on here, Jessa?” My mother turned to me, her voice shaking. “Did you lie to that royal officer? If something happened with alchemy, you need to tell us right now. We can help but we need to know what we are dealing with here.”
Everything in me wanted to tell them the truth. But I just couldn’t put them in such a terrible position.
“I told you. I have no idea what that was about. That woman is jumping to conclusions. Lacey is fine. I mean, look at her.”
My parents exchanged a guarded glance. Mom held her hand to her hip, head cocked, as she studied me before taking in Lacey. There was no question that she appeared the same as always. After a tense moment, Dad let out a long sigh.
“We’d better get you something to eat,” he said as he reached for Lacey.
I immediately went upstairs to my bedroom. Finally alone, I let out a deep breath, willing the stress to fall away. It didn’t work. Not with what I now knew. Not with the truth burning its way into my every thought.
Lacey was an alchemist, and I’d just committed a crime.
The accident flashed through my memory.
Babysitting Lacey for a few hours between ballet rehearsal and Mom and Dad getting home from work was part of my daily agenda. On that day, just like most days, I took Lacey to our neighborhood playground. On that brisk January afternoon, the cool air was refreshing on my sore dancer muscles.
Lacey immediately ran to the swings. She jumped in the seat and rocked herself higher and higher with each motion. Giggling as she swung, she leaned forward as if she were about to sprout wings.
“Slow down, Lace!” I yelled, and a twinge of worry cracked my voice.
Beyond her, the bare trees held onto the last fragments of fall.
I sat down on the bench and began running through the highlights from this afternoon’s rehearsal. Ballet had been tough lately, but I smiled knowing that I’d done well. Better than yesterday, which was always my goal.
Abruptly, Lacey’s hands slipped and her little body catapulted from the seat. For the brief moment, she was in flight.
Stunned, I watched my little sister crash into the waiting earth. Mounds of frozen gravel pummeled her face.
What followed was blood. A lot of blood.
It poured from her knees, her wrists, and her palms. And the worst of it streamed from her mouth.
I sprinted to her in a dizzying frenzy. I held her close, fumbling to assess the damage. The mix of confusion and anguish cut into her features as she let out a sharp cry. There was so much blood. I didn’t know how to fix her. I frantically looked around for help. The area was deserted.
I looked back at Lacey, and something strange and peaceful grew inside. An overwhelming feeling of love passed through me. The world st
illed as a gentle calm ran through my body. I looked at my beautiful little sister, battered and hurt, and a fierce urgency to help her took over my senses.
“It’s okay. I’ll take care of you. It will be as if this never even happened. You’ll see.”
Lacey wailed, oblivious as I tried to soothe her. Tears rolled down her face as she gasped for breath. I needed her to calm down, to hold still so I could help.
“Stop crying.”
She immediately relaxed, her cries fading. We sat there, covered in her blood and stared at the stream of life pouring from her. All logical thought disintegrated as I realized what I was seeing.
The deep red of her blood had turned pale pink. And just as strange, it continued to change as it faded to ashy gray. I sat motionless.
Her red blood had actually changed, physically altered its color. How was that even possible?
It still poured out of her in waves, but the blood was no longer its normal color.
Even stranger was the air that wrapped around us, a cloud of luminous red energy, seemingly not of this world. I almost didn’t notice when Lacey lost consciousness.
It all happened so fast. Too fast.
Later, when she came to, I questioned Lacey. She didn’t understand what I was talking about. The whole incident was wiped from her vulnerable mind. How was that possible?
It took the medics a while to arrive at the scene and cart Lacey off to be stitched up. Thankfully, a neighbor had heard the cries and called an ambulance. Maybe Lacey had become so weak that her mind blocked the memory. I could only pray it was all a big mistake.
I still didn’t want to admit how one second her blood could be gray, and the next, return to vibrant red. It had to be alchemy.
It all happened so fast. The next thing I knew, the medics were shaking me, calmly asking their standard questions. They took my pulse and gave me some water as they assessed Lacey and the wide pool of red blood around us. The gray was nowhere to be seen. She was small enough that the wounds on her knees, palms, face, and tongue warranted her going to the hospital for stitches and painkillers. She even ended up needing a blood transfusion.
They drove away with Lacey, actually leaving me in that empty playground. I couldn’t believe it. At least someone had contacted our parents, who were already on their way to meet the ambulance.
I sat in a daze. The worn black crescent seat of the swing still swayed.
The next six months were spent in anguish over what really happened. I had nightmares about it, tortured by the idea of speaking up. Whatever had happened to us, it seemed no one knew. I doubted Lacey would understand it. When it turned out she didn’t remember, I tried to push the memories away, hoping my suspicions were all wrong.
Either way, I was grateful no one else was on the playground that day. And thank goodness that a neighbor had alerted the authorities. That someone was able to find us, and help her.
Because, apparently, I couldn’t.
I walked to the bedroom window and peered between the curtains. Outside, the flashing lights from the officers’ vehicles were gone, but I was sure this wasn’t over. It appeared to be a quiet, lazy morning in our typical capital city suburb. The tall trees in our neighbor’s yard cast long shadows in the early sunrise. Something shifted beyond them.
I stopped, not daring to move as I waited to see what, or who, was there. Several minutes passed before a royal officer emerged. He was dressed in the same white uniform. He stood motionless, his eyes scanning our house.
General Faulk might be gone for now, but that didn’t mean we were in the clear. She’d left someone to watch us.
Why would she do that?
The answer hit me like an arrow to the heart.
To make sure we don’t take Lacey and run.
2
Lucas
“It’s time to put that away, son.” My father’s dark tone failed to match his charming smile. The smile said, There are people watching us, so you better behave. A warning more than a piece of advice. I ignored him and continued swiping the glass surface of my state-of-the-art slatebook. It was the only thing that entertained me during these dull evenings. Well, that and the beautiful women.
If my parents were going to insist on my attendance at these ridiculous social events, they ought to be impressed that I was busying myself and not doing anything to embarrass them. Like flirting, or drinking, or flat-out leaving.
It was true that I liked to ruffle their feathers every now and again. But normally, I played along with their games. Yesterday, it was a political dinner; today, it would be the ballet.
Because where else would an eighteen-year-old guy want to spend his Friday nights?
My whole life I’d been told how lucky I was to be the only child of the New Colony royal family. I was the only heir to the throne of the world’s leading nation. But the envy bothered me more than I let on. People only saw the façade, the smoke and mirrors of politics.
I knew the truth.
My mother softly touched my arm. Her pleasant smile contradicted the look in her eyes. “Please respect your father’s wishes.”
I sighed and slipped the thin device into my pocket. I’d give her this small victory. It was hard to see her this way, so meek and agreeable…a wisp of the woman she once was. She’d changed so dramatically over the years. I preferred to remember her as she had been during my childhood.
She never laughed anymore.
Lately, my mother had become “Natasha” to me. My father himself had always preferred being called “Richard” instead of “Dad.” But being on a first-name basis with my parents didn’t make me feel like an equal—it made me a stranger. At least she had been attending more functions with us in the past few months. I was accustomed to my mother spending most of her time in her darkened bedroom, fighting her chronic headaches. Headaches that even the most gifted color alchemists couldn’t seem to cure. Now that she was out again, I was grateful not to be alone with Richard. He was easier to deal with, during the constant barrage of events, when she was there. My mother had a way of getting me to behave.
Tonight would be different.
I relaxed into the red padded theatre chair and stared blankly at the people in the auditorium below. They were always watching us. They wanted nothing more than to impress my father. Well, good luck.
On the surface, he was the perfect king. He was handsome, charming, and well-spoken. He was easy to believe in, easy to follow. Everyone trusted him. I, however, knew that he wasn’t as he appeared.
But no one ever asked my opinion.
A few of our palace servants were strewn across the balcony with us tonight. Like my mother and our security team, they all carefully watched Richard. He was the sun and we were the planets, moving in sequence around him year after year. But lately, I had started to think of myself as something else: an asteroid. Cutting through the blackness. Making my own path.
My father motioned to Thomas. He was one of our top royal officers, our oldest. He’d known me my whole life.
The ruddy man scurried over, then straightened the white jacket of his uniform. He was a royal officer, not to be confused with a guardian. Alchemists didn’t get to come to public venues like the ballet. Ever. And they didn’t wear white. They wore black.
“Why is there someone else in a theatre box?” Richard asked, stiff in his over-sized chair.
I knew better than to trust the calmness in his voice.
Across the auditorium, a plump man sat with his two young boys. They were all dressed in matching tuxedos. The children were comically endearing in their formal attire. They bobbed up and down in their seats, obviously excited. I wondered how long they would last before they fell asleep from boredom.
“Sir, I wasn’t aware you had a problem with them, but I am sure the family is no threat,” Thomas replied.
Thomas had always had a kinder heart than most royal officers. That was probably because he’d been around for so long. He’d been my grandfather’s numbe
r one advisor before my grandfather passed away. Richard, however, wasn’t as impressed with Thomas’s soft spot. The two kings, my father and late grandfather, took different approaches to leadership. Still, Thomas stayed on. He was almost part of the family by now. Almost.
“No civilians should be sitting up in the balconies,” my father slowly responded.
My mother’s face paled, before turning away.
“You’re our royal officer in charge of security. Do I need to explain our safety procedures to you?”
“I understand, Your Highness. It was an oversight and I take complete responsibility. Where would you like us to relocate the family to?” He’d been with us so long, I was sure groveling was something he’d learned many years ago. I almost felt bad for the guy.
My father waved his hand to point below him. “I’m sorry I was so short with you, Thomas. But you know the rules. Seeing as there are no seats left in the auditorium, what am I supposed to do?”
Actually, there were plenty of open seats. But judging from the swarms of people mingling in the aisles, those seats wouldn’t stay empty for long. Did it really matter if someone other than royalty sat up there?
“They will just have to leave,” Richard said.
“That’s ridiculous!” I jumped up. Maybe Thomas was going to back down, but I wasn’t. “Don’t do that. They’re no threat to us.”
My frustration with the man never ceased to amaze me.
“You’re the expert on security now?” He raised an eyebrow sarcastically.
I couldn’t stand it anymore. Just because Richard was the king, just because he was my father, it didn’t mean he had the right to walk all over people.
But as I opened my mouth to reply, I made the mistake of looking to my mother for support. Her teary expression nearly startled me. Her auburn hair fell in waves around her pale face as she rubbed her temples. I realized she was warding off another headache. The last thing she needed was for Richard and me to get into it.
I closed my mouth and sat back down, ending the argument before it could really begin. As I waited for the show to start, I stared at the disappointed looks on those little boys’ faces as they were escorted from the theatre. I deserved to see their pain and feel the guilt creep through my body. I had let it happen.
