The Color Alchemist: The Complete Series

by Nina Walker

  “We’ll figure out what happened,” Richard said, eyes bulging out of his head, “and when we do, I can promise you someone will pay for this.” He turned on Faulk. “And you, I’m beginning to wonder just how incompetent you truly are.”

  Then he stormed out of the elevator and down the hall. Lucas walked me to my room, gripping my hand tightly in his. For once, I let myself lean into him. As we approached my door, Faulk blocked us.

  “I’m watching you, Loxely. Don’t think I’ll ever let another one of your family members slip from my grasp again. Because I won’t. You will live the rest of your days under my watch and you will learn to behave, or else those days will be numbered.” Her eyes were ice blue daggers directed right at me. She meant every word. It wasn’t a threat. It was a promise.

  My body relaxed as I danced, trying to let anxious thoughts go. My feet pressed against the hardwood floor; my toes crammed against the points of my shoes. I felt the emotions in the movements, felt it all with each step, with each jump, each turn. The fear of my situation came crashing down on me as heavy as iron. I fell to the floor and sobbed, giving in. Finally, giving in. Gasping, awful sounds that I could hardly recognize as my own echoed through the empty room. Still, I didn’t care, I just let it all out, an unstoppable catharsis.

  The door squeaked open. “Jessa, what’s wrong?” Madame Silver rushed into the room, draping her petite frame over mine in a hug. “Darling, it’s okay. It’s going to be okay.”

  I stilled. “You’re early,” I stated, my voice croaking. “I’m sorry. I wasn’t expecting you for our lesson for another twenty minutes.”

  “Oh darling, no. I’m right on time.”

  “Oh,” I sighed, wiping the mess of tears from my face. They stung against my raw cheeks. She sat back, and I looked up to meet her kind eyes. “I was practicing. I must have lost track of time.”

  “You do that often,” she teased with a wink, and I laughed softly. It was true. There had been a time in my life where ballet had carried me away on a daily basis.

  “I think I’ve cried enough for one day. You must think I’m so weak.”

  “Actually no,” she said, standing and reaching out to help me up. “You’re one of the strongest people I know.”

  “It’s just this place,” I confessed. “It’s not as glamorous as it looks.”

  She paused, studying me. We stood close together in the empty dance studio, with its wood floors, white walls, mirrors and ballet barre on the far end. The light filtered in through the windows just the same as it had in my old studio, soft and muted. It had immediately become my favorite room here, and the only place I could fully be myself. Madame Silver’s lessons were my saving grace, but after the exhibition and Faulk’s threats, I was beginning to think grace didn’t exist.

  And hope. Don’t forget hope.

  “Darling, I believe you,” Madame Silver said, stepping closer. Her rose scent filled me, stirring old memories. “I know you didn’t ask for this. I know what your dream was, and this wasn’t it.”

  I looked around the room and fought the urge to burst into tears again. I wanted to spill it all, to open up and tell her everything. She was one of the people I trusted most in the world. But how many more people would get hurt because they cared about me? I was dangerous to love.

  “Can I help you?” she asked. “I mean it, Jessa. What can I do?”

  This wasn’t safe.

  “Maybe there’s something,” I whispered. I was still weak, weaker than ever. A strong person wouldn’t bring her into this. I knew better, but still, the words grew from my tongue like thorned weeds. “I think you might be able to help me.”

  7

  Lucas

  The landscape stretched out, as dead as the horizon. I turned around and surveyed the farm from a different angle.

  “Still dead,” the farmer said, and I nodded, though it gave me no satisfaction.

  When everyone had loaded on the train, Richard taking to the air, I’d stayed back. It had been easy to talk him into the idea. He’d been distracted. I said that I wanted to get a better feel for the issues facing the rural farming communities, see if I could brainstorm ways to help them. He left me with an army of bodyguards and plans to send the family jet back for me in a couple days.

  “When we can’t produce crops,” the man continued, his tone gruff, “we get our wages docked. Trouble is, this is all we’ve got. There’s no other job for us. Farmer’s kids are almost always assigned to take over the trade. My old man passed away years ago and I’ve had this land in my care ever since.”

  We ambled along the dirt path, right through the center of empty fields. The back of my neck itched as the sun pressed down through the cool breeze.

  “What do you grow out here?” I watched the farmer as he talked, noticed the way he thought over his words, as if tasting them first.

  Taysom Green was the same man that had challenged my father at the exhibition. I’d instantly liked him and wanted to learn more. I also suspected he might be Resistance, or would be if given the opportunity. It was the way he’d first approached Jessa, as Faulk had described it, and the sureness in his voice when he’d challenged my father. This was a man who wasn’t afraid of standing up for the little guy.

  I hoped so, anyway. If I was going to get his help…

  “In this part of the kingdom, we can grow all sorts of food. My farm is mostly wheat, though we usually have a nice tomato crop as well,” he said forlornly. There was no trace of a smile now. It had struck me as sincere when I’d come out here. It glowed against his dark skin, magnetic. “It’s been a rough year. Everything keeps dying. You name the problem and we’ve probably had it. Too much rain. Not enough rain. Frost. Wind storms.” He rubbed his hand through his curls and faced me. “I’m okay. It’s my wife and kids I worry about. We keep getting our pay docked but we’re not allowed to find other means for work. Now you tell me, how am I supposed to take care of them? Feed them? How are any of the farmers out here going to make it until next harvest?”

  My face burned at his questions, ashamed. What use was a prince in this kingdom? I examined the churned-up fields. “You’re right,” I said. “We need to be doing more. We should have a few full-time alchemists living out here to help with the crops. I know it’s something we used to do, though my father has kept all his alchemists busy with other things lately.”

  “I’ve never seen an alchemist on my farm, but I believe it,” he said. “There’s been a few times where someone’s crops were close to dying and miraculously, those same dying crops returned to full health overnight.”

  I nodded. It was what magic was meant for, if you asked me.

  “Now that how it’s done is no longer some big secret,” I said, “I can work on convincing my father to help you. He should agree since this food helps to feed the kingdom.”

  “You’re a good man.” Taysom smiled, “You’ll make a good king someday. Much better than your father.”

  I glanced back to the bodyguards trailing us, hoping none of them had heard that. Any one of them could be a spy for Faulk or Richard. But they didn’t seem to care either way. Maybe they agreed.

  What would Mom think of all this? Of me? I wondered suddenly.

  We’d come down near this part of the kingdom to go to the beach, but never to the farms. Mom had loved the beach when I was a kid. I could picture her there, sitting on the sand, the morning sun hitting her red hair in just the right way, lighting it up like fire. I shook my head, momentarily erasing the memory so I could focus.

  I cleared my throat.

  “I’m so sorry.” Taysom stepped back, looking ashen. He gulped and raised his hands carefully. “I shouldn’t have said that.”

  I must have looked pretty bent up over the thoughts of Mom and he’d interpreted that to be offense over Richard.

  “Oh, it’s okay.” I hesitated, peering at the guards several yards away. “I often think the same thing.”

  He raised a curious eyebrow and
I shrugged. “Come on, show me more.”

  The next few hours were spent walking the length of the farm, answering each other’s questions. I liked the guy. There was something so organic about him, so honest.

  “And what of this war?” Taysom asked. “Do you support it?”

  I swallowed.

  “We were attacked at my mother’s funeral and innocent people died,” I said simply, as if that answered it. He nodded, seeming to accept the simple answer.

  Truth was, I didn’t know. There wasn’t definitive proof that West America had anything to do with that attack. And the war certainly was an opportunity for my father to be greedy with other people’s lives. Growing up in the palace, I’d learned the politics of greed with the best of them.

  I looked out again at the land before me, stretching in endless fields of emptiness. “If we leave the dead crops, it will rot,” Taysom said, standing next to me. “It’s painful to do it, but we have to get it out, roots and all.”

  Richard wanted to expand his territory. And he also created the shadow lands, used alchemy to destroy entire expanses of terrain in a vain attempt to garner more control. He was an oxymoron, a walking contradiction, and my biggest fear was that we were the same, and maybe my roots were rotting, too.

  “Come eat dinner with us. My wife has been preparing a meal all day.”

  Ahead stood his family’s white, two-story farmhouse. It had dormer windows, a wraparound porch, and a grassy lawn with a towering willow tree. It looked centuries old, but well cared for over the years. How many wars had this farm home endured? And how many more before it was lost to the violence of humankind?

  “I couldn’t possibly eat your food,” I said, “not after everything you just told me. But thank you for the offer.”

  “Nonsense! Samantha will never let me live it down if I had the prince here and we didn’t dine with him. Trust me, she’ll be the talk of the town after tonight.” He laughed heartily, his tall frame towering over my own 6 feet 2 inches. I followed him inside.

  After enjoying tender roasted chicken and butternut squash that could rival any meal at the palace, Taysom led me down to his cellar to show off where he brewed his own beer. Samantha climbed in the other direction; two floors up to put the twins to bed. The bodyguards were left to their own devices. Some waited at the top of the stairs. Some crowded the kitchen, finishing off the leftovers that Samantha had offered. And others cased the perimeters of the house, at the ready to defend me in the event of an attack. But none had come down to the cellar, and with that, I’d found my moment.

  “If I asked for your secrecy, for your trust, and most importantly, your help, would you offer it to me?” I asked.

  Taysom didn’t even hesitate. “Yes.”

  I stepped out of the black executive car, legs aching from walking for hours yesterday with Taysom. The sight of the familiar sleek jet calmed me. At least I’d get to rest today.

  It sat centered on the tarmac, large, pearl white, and with the royal family insignia of three red stars, painted across the side. I climbed the stairs, wind whipping through my hair. I hurried to one of the white chairs, relaxing into the heated leather seat. I was only going north into more cold, but I’d get to see Jessa again soon—that made it worth it.

  I hoped she would be happy to see me, too. The likelihood, or rather the lack thereof, left me feeling raw.

  I glanced out the window. A man struggled with a bulky suitcase. He had a limp, and was dragging the case across the ground with a strangled expression. I glanced over to the bodyguards huddled together outside talking. They’d be inspecting everything before we took off if they hadn’t already done it. That was their job. But to make this poor man, whoever he was, battle with loading the cases all on his own? Not okay.

  I sighed and stood, making my way out of the plane.

  “Here, let me help you with that,” I called out, climbing down the stairs and approaching the man. I grabbed the handle of the case. The suitcase was made from black fabric, bulging at the seams. It probably belonged to one of the guards flying back with me.

  “No, Your Highness,” the man spluttered. “You couldn’t possibly.”

  I lifted it to the cargo hold and winced. “I could possibly,” I said. “Really, I’m happy to help out. You don’t have to treat me like my father, you know? I don’t like to be waited on hand and foot.”

  “Well, okay, thank you,” the man replied with a weathered smile. He looked pretty old, but that could have been from his manual labor job outside. He wore a black coat and a reflective orange vest that flashed in the sunlight as he moved. “I pulled a muscle this morning, but a job’s a job. Gotta work.”

  I opened my mouth to ask if he could get the day off, but then decided better of it. Most likely, that answer was no. People worked in New Colony. They had what they needed, but they worked hard. It was what we believed in: give a man work and give him a roof over his head.

  “Hey.” A guard trotted over. “Your Highness, what are you doing? You’re supposed to be inside the plane. This isn’t your job.”

  I eyed the guard and caught the patronizing look he sent to the injured man, like it was his fault I was out here. If anything, those guards should have seen a man in need and stepped in to help. Getting mad at me for doing the right thing and taking it out on this innocent guy was not okay. “I can do as I please,” I said coolly to the guard. “It’s no concern of yours if I decide to lift a suitcase.”

  “Yes, but,” the guard went on, shaking his head, “you need to get back on the plane. It’s cold out here and we can’t have you catching your death.”

  I rolled my eyes. These guys? Seriously? They thought I was made from feathers or something. “I think I can handle it.”

  “Are there more bags?” I turned back to the lone worker. “Can I help you finish up?”

  “Sure.” The man shrugged and waddled away, still limping.

  We walked to a car parked ten yards away from the plane, piled high with luggage.

  “That was the first one in the pile,” the man said. “I still got all of these to load up.”

  Well, at least I can call this my workout for the day.

  “Your Highness, I really must insist that you board the plane and relax.” The bodyguard had followed us to the car but did he offer to help load bags? Certainly not. I shook my head and hefted another bag into my arms.

  Boom!

  It pulsed through the air, pushing me to my back. Hard. I gasped for breath, pain and heat shuddering through me.

  What the—?

  Adrenaline raced through my veins. Sweat bubbled on my skin. A strange crunch echoed through the air. I stared, mouth agape, at what was left of the jet.

  “Get away from there!”

  The remaining bodyguards swarmed me, pulling me away from the scorching flames as they grew wild into the sky. Still, the heat pressed down. The inferno was maddening, overcoming the jet in seconds. I blinked rapidly, trying to take it all in. As the faces of my bodyguards leaned over me, realization sunk in deep. Where was the man that had been so insistent I stay on the plane?

  “Where is he?” I demanded of the guards. They’d now surrounded me, aiming their guns outward.

  “Where’s who?” The guard closest barely looked at me as he surveyed the area.

  I shook my head and focused past the ringing in my ears.

  “The bodyguard who just tried to kill me!” I yelled.

  They all exchanged worried glances as they looked around.

  “He’s gone.”

  After returning home and debriefing with my father, Jessa was the only person I wanted to see. I knocked on her door.

  “Are you okay?” Jessa asked as she swung the door open. Her eyes filled with tears, blue oceans of worry. “I heard about what happened. That’s insane. I can’t believe it.”

  I nodded, even though I wasn’t sure if okay was the right way to describe how I felt. The attack on my life had come way too close to ending it. Th
e danger of it still pulsed through my veins. My mind couldn’t stop replaying the scene over and over again, nor could my body relax. I kept catching myself shaking, my pulse climbing.

  I’m so lucky to be alive.

  She laced her arms around me in a hug and I held her tight, lingering in her familiar scent. I finally relaxed. After a long moment, she led me into her room and closed the door. Staring up at me, she frowned. “I know things between us aren’t what they used to be, but I would never wish you dead. I’m really sorry you had to go through that. I’m still shaken up about it, but I can’t imagine what you’re going through.”

  My heart ripped in two at her words, part of me relishing in her closeness and gratitude that I was still alive; but the other caught up on her words. Things between us aren’t what they used to be. Would they ever be normal again? Did she even want them to be? The more time I spent with her, the more I realized it was hopeless.

  “Can I help with anything?” she asked.

  “You can.” I nodded and moved toward her couch, sinking into it.

  After the attack, our plane was nothing but a heap of ash and metal. I’d taken a train home, traveling all day. It was getting late and I needed sleep, but there was something I wanted to do first.

  “Did they find out who did it?” she asked.

  “Oh, I know who planted the bomb,” I said. “It was one of the bodyguards. But I’m not sure who they were working for or where they are now.”

  Faulk and a few of her best people had gone in to clean up the pieces and run a full investigation. Richard had been livid when I’d returned home. I could only imagine how he must have reacted when he’d first received the news. I wondered how much longer Faulk had here. If it was me, she’d be fired.

  “So the bodyguard got away?” Jessa sat down next to me. I nodded.

  “The easiest explanation is that West America had planted him—,” I shrugged. And that was the interpretation my father had taken. But I had questions. Up until the war, West America had left us alone. We’d been the one to initiate the war. Not them. Maybe it was the Resistance behind these attacks; maybe it was someone else entirely. What happens next time?