The Color Alchemist: The Complete Series

by Nina Walker

  “I don’t know anything. Okay? Please, you need to get out of here. Treason is not something I’m going to subject my wife and children to.”

  “You’re a little late for that.” I laughed, shocked that he would help Jessa if this was how he was responding to me.

  As he pushed open the door, a woman in a blue bathrobe stood in the doorway, one hand rubbing the sleep from weary eyes. Part of me wanted to shake her! Really, lady? You slept through everything else tonight. Behind me, leaves rustled and boots crunched against the frozen grass.

  “Taysom Green,” the woman chastised. “What on earth is going on? Who are these people?”

  I spun around to find a smiling Tristan walking up the steps, his hand raised in greeting.

  “So sorry for the inconvenience, Miss,” he said, his voice as rich and smooth as butter. “We’re Guardians of Color on assignment to check on your farm. Is there anything that my associate can help you with? She’s a master healer.” He winked at me.

  “Uhhh,” I faltered, but I quickly recovered and turned back to the woman with an equally pleasant smile. If anyone could play this game of make believe, it was me. After all, I’d had years of experience.

  “Yes, we’re so sorry for waking you,” I said pleasantly. “We check on things at night when the citizens are asleep. We’re not supposed to draw too much attention to ourselves. It’s part of our protocol. But it turns out that your husband is a light sleeper.”

  Her eyes flicked back and forth between the three of us, as if she knew we were lying through our teeth. I continued to smile, until finally, her tense face relaxed, eyebrows softening, lips parting, and intense eyes losing a bit of their focus. She gave us a quick nod.

  “I’m afraid everything’s dead this season. Ground’s already been tilled. We’re planting again in a few months. Will you be back to help us then?”

  I nodded eagerly, the shame of my outright lie ripping through me. There was nothing I could do for these people’s dying farmland. And besides, we had a war to win. Once that was sorted, then I could help as many farmers as possible.

  “Well, it’s late, best be off with you,” Taysom said, sliding into his home, his frame blocking his wife from our view. He shut the door in my face with a thud.

  I clenched my teeth and fists, burning to bust that door wide open. But instead I closed my eyes and sighed. Inviting hothead Sasha to the party wasn’t a smart idea, given our situation.

  “Now what?” Tristan asked, putting a warm hand on my back. It only accentuated the cold night.

  I took a deep breath, watching it hang in the air, as I considered our options. “I’m not convinced that man doesn’t know anything.” I leaned into Tristan and laid my head on his shoulder, pulling him into a hug. “Thank you for staying with me,” I whispered. At least I wasn’t alone in all of this.

  I felt him nod and breathe me in. I did the same. He reached out and coaxed my tight fist to relax, threading long fingers through mine.

  “Come on,” he said into my hair. “We don’t know the area. Let’s hide out in that cellar while we figure out what to do next.”

  “You think we can trust him?”

  “I do. He’s spooked, so we’ll have to move on soon.”

  I still wanted to stomp on the porch, to bang on the door, to demand answers. But Tristan was right. I let the frustration go, forcing it away with each step as I followed the man who would follow me anywhere, who was undoubtedly my best friend. We rounded the house hand in hand. Exhaustion ebbed at the corners of my vision. My body heavy, I reflected on my appalling lack of sleep lately.

  I blinked as my eyes adjusted. Someone was waiting for us.

  Mastin.

  He leaned against the house with his arms crossed over his chest, a tightly wound expression held on his face. I knew deep in my core that he was livid with me, but I also knew just how grateful I was to see him still standing here.

  “I can’t believe you stayed,” I choked on the emotion, smiling and scrunching my nose.

  He didn’t look at me, didn’t acknowledge me in any way. He only pushed off the side of the house, threw open the cellar door with an angry clang, and stormed into the blackness below. His boots sent a mist of stifling dust wafting back out after him, as if to taunt me for what I had done to land us here for the night. I didn’t blame him for being angry; this had never been in the plan. But my entire life hadn’t gone according to plan and you didn’t see me slamming doors. Typical Mastin. I refused to feel guilty.

  I turned to Tristan, ready to make my argument, but he only chuckled.

  Tristan took first watch. When he woke me a few hours later, I expected to trade positions straight away, so he could get some much-needed rest.

  “I want to show you something first,” he said, his voice a low whisper that tickled my cheek.

  The sleep had come quick and heavy, despite the cold, hard floor. Mastin was still out cold, his back pressed against the side of the small room. The walls were dusty stone, the floor damp earth. There were a few blankets and crates pushed alongside one wall.

  “Okay, I hope it’s something good,” I whispered, standing in a crouch because of the low ceiling and following him back up the short set of stairs.

  Outside the sun met us in a brilliant pink light that illuminated the landscape. There wasn’t another structure for miles, just dark earth kissing a new sky. Warmth caressed my face, and I sighed with a soft smile. I relished the peace—soon this feeling would be gone.

  “So beautiful,” I said, leaning against the house.

  “Yes.” Tristan nodded, watching me. His gaze had turned intense, a side of him he rarely showed me. His eyes were two questioning depths, staring back at me. A twinge of anticipation ran down my spine. I couldn’t stop thinking about what he’d said that night on the beach. Wait for me.

  Didn’t he know I’d always been waiting for him?

  “I wanted to talk to you about something,” he whispered, his voice catching ever so slightly, but enough for me to know he was nervous.

  It made me nervous, too.

  What is there to be nervous about? This is Tristan. He was my best friend and the person I trusted most in the world. I’d known the guy for years, had seen him grow from a boy to a man. And truth be told, I’d spent several of my teenage years pining over him, a secret that I was pretty sure he’d known about. But we were almost six years apart in age and I’d always been too young for him before. Of course he’d never acted on anything. Tristan always did the right thing.

  But things were different now.

  “You can tell me,” I said, shifting to get a better look. His dark eyes burned behind a fallen lock of midnight hair. The corners of his liquid eyes crinkled as he studied me for a long moment and then he shifted closer. When those same eyes flicked to gaze at my lips, anticipation burned inside. Was he going to kiss me? Did I want him to kiss me?

  The truth rooted me to the spot. Yes, I wanted him to.

  “I shouldn’t have asked you not to date Mastin,” he said, suddenly creating distance between us. He stepped back. The passion in his expression vanished, replaced by the familiar understanding and friendly gaze he always wore around me.

  “Wait…what?” I sputtered, confusion and shame coursing through me like boiling-hot water.

  “I know there’s something there between you two. It wasn’t right of me to ask you not to pursue that.” He cleared his throat. “You’re my best friend, but I don’t own you like that, you know? It wasn’t right.”

  So what was he saying? That he didn’t have interest in me? That he thought Mastin was a better fit?

  Or maybe he knows about your stupid crush on him and he’s rejecting you.

  A razor-sharp pain tore at me. All the insecurities of being a young girl fantasying over an older but romantically uninterested guy, surfaced in an instant. The embarrassment that rocked me sent burning hot tears to the back of my eyes, which only made everything worse.

  Plea
se don’t cry. Please don’t cry. Please…

  “Thanks for your permission,” I snapped. “I’ll take it under advisement.”

  I kept my head down, sure my cheeks were bright red. This was so embarrassing! I stumbled back to the cellar door and down the stairs, steadying my breath as much as possible.

  “Wait,” he called after me, his voice torn in frustration.

  But he didn’t follow.

  I plopped down in the corner of the cold room, glaring at the boxes of root vegetables in across from me, the rudimentary brewery next to those, and Mastin’s hunched over form in the other corner.

  He wasn’t asleep anymore. He watched me like I was up to something. Had he heard any part of my conversation with Tristan? The thought of it sent another wave of shame crashing over me.

  “Everything okay?” he finally asked, his voice laced with a protectiveness that I hadn’t heard from him before.

  “He talks,” I muttered, referring to the frustrating silent treatment he’d given me before we’d gone to sleep. I knew I was being a brat, but I couldn’t seem to stop myself.

  “When I need to talk, I talk,” he replied, his voice softer this time.

  I closed my eyes and rested my head back against the cool stone for a moment. “Yes, everything is fine. We’re trapped in New Colony, but other than that, things are great.” I made sure my tone dripped with sarcasm.

  “You don’t have to be such a brat.”

  I laughed because he had called me out on what I’d just been thinking moments earlier, though I wasn’t amused. I need to get a hold of myself. No more arguing with my guys.

  “I’m sorry,” I finally relented, blowing out my breath and meeting his inspecting gaze. “I know this is my fault and complaining won’t help the situation.”

  He studied me through the filtered light, flecks of dust floating between us. We hadn’t turned on the lone light bulb, instead opting to keep the cellar door open. At least for now. Once the family woke up and found us, all bets were off.

  “I’m going to get an extraction team out here as soon as possible,” Mastin said. “Our base outside of Nashville isn’t far at all, but I’m afraid it might be a few days with everything going on. I don’t know yet, but I don’t like sitting here. Richard’s men are hunting Jessa and all we’ve managed to do is take her place.”

  “And women.” I crossed my arms over my knees.

  He raised a questioning eyebrow.

  “You said Richard’s men. But it’s men and women. His number one officer, Faulk, is a woman.”

  He nodded. “Well, either way, I don’t know if we can trust this guy,” he said, pointing to the house above, “or his wife.”

  “Who else is there to trust in this kingdom?” I sighed.

  But as I asked the question, an idea came to me. How hadn’t I thought of it earlier? I’d been so distracted that I’d overlooked something important. I lifted my hip to the side and reached two fingers into my front pocket, digging for a moment. The thin slip of paper slid out like an answer to a prayer. I held it up to the light, a smile pulling at my lips. I pictured the day Branson had given it to me, remembered the shock of the moment when I’d learned he was Resistance. An email address had been written there, meant to give West America an inside source in New Colony’s warfront. I was supposed to hand if off to General Scott, but had instead held onto it. I had worried that it was a trap. Or that if it wasn’t, Nathan Scott wouldn’t treat Branson right because of deep rooted prejudice. Tristan was the only other soul who knew about the email address. He hadn’t liked that I’d kept the paper, but hadn’t tattled on me to anyone, either.

  “What’s that?” Mastin’s eyes narrowed, catching sight of my secret.

  I stilled. Mastin and his “live by the rules set, adhere to your higher ranks” attitude was going to be pretty pissed when I revealed this secret. But hey, I wasn’t known for following the rules myself. What did he really expect from me?

  “Sasha, what is it?” A twinge of panic rose in his voice and I smirked.

  I avoided his question by asking one of my own. “How much charge is left on that slatebook of yours?”

  His lips thinned, but he pulled it from his pocket and tapped at the screen. “A few days.”

  “Good.” I flashed the slip of paper once more. “Because this just might be our ticket out of here.”

  2

  Jessa

  I crouched behind a dumpster, waiting for the already thin crowd of theatre-goers to disappear into the night. They streamed from the building, chattering voices floating on the cool air. Nobody looked my way. The stench of food waste and musky city streets wafted around me, encouraging me to move on, to take the risk now if only to get away from the stench. I didn’t. Pressing my hand harder against my nose, I waited for my chance. It needed to be perfect.

  The second it had been dark enough, I’d slowly traversed through downtown Marthasville. Careful to keep my head down, I’d dodged pedestrians and hidden in the darkest shadows I could find. If anyone got a good look at my face, I’d be in big trouble. Since the engagement, I’d become one of the most recognizable people in the kingdom. At least I was dressed better and more put-together than yesterday, since I’d stolen clean clothes this morning on my trek into the city. I had to steal the clothes right off a clothesline from one of the farms outside the city. No coat, but there wasn’t snow here in the winters like up north. The dark green shirt was a little big for my frame, but it was long-sleeved and helped keep the shivers away.

  The downtown area was compact, so it wasn’t too hard to find the theatre. The people here weren’t quite as well-to-do as the ones in the capital, but they still dressed in fine clothing and chattered like they didn’t have a care in the world. Nobody noticed me in my hiding spot. The marquee across the street shined bright, the sight sending both hope and dread careening through me. I read the blocky words again: New Colony Royal Ballet. Tears pricked at my eyes. If only I’d been here a week ago, even a few days, I could have seen Dad. Held him, hugged him. But by the time I’d made it to Taysom Green’s place after weeks of hiding with sympathizers and travelling in the dead of night, it was too late. Reaching out in the farm’s cellar to Dad via our telepathic connection, I’d discovered he was just crossing the border. I squeezed my eyes shut and let one tear trickled down my cheek. I hoped Dad had made it into safe hands. I couldn’t think about the alternative.

  I slapped my cheeks, determined to be strong, to think back on my journey. Why couldn’t I see just how brave I really was? None of it had been easy, but I had done it, I had made it through. And I would make it through tonight, too.

  The possibility of failure needed to fall to the back of my mind for now. I needed to focus on the building in front of me, on the task at hand. This was my only chance at getting back to Lucas. I clenched stiff fingers against the inside of my sleeves and wrapped my arms around myself for warmth. Soon, I would be inside and wouldn’t be cold. Soon, things would be better. I thanked my lucky stars that the ballet was still in town and I could find a way to get help.

  It made sense the ballet was still here, even though I’d been plagued with worry they wouldn’t. When the company traveled, they would stay a week or two in one place before moving on to the next. Most citizens couldn’t afford a ticket, of course, but those with the best jobs and highest wages prided themselves on going. There was always an audience for ballet. Dressed in their finest suits and gowns, people would make a public spectacle out of the event. It seemed that was the case even in war time. Ballet was an old aristocratic tradition, even from way before New Colony, one of the few things that had stuck in the new kingdom.

  The once-busy crowd had disappeared, voices fading as they went their different ways, some on foot, others in vehicles. The once-bustling area had emptied. The night had grown silent. This was my chance. I stilled, ready to make a run for it. I needed to make it across the street and around the back of the theatre. And I needed to be quick, in c
ase someone was out here that still recognized me. That part of the plan was doable. But then I’d have to break into the back door of the theatre and find Madame Silver, also without anyone recognizing me. Considering I’d trained with these dancers, knew most of them by name, that part of my plan was not so doable.

  Didn’t matter, I had to try.

  Head down, I darted across the pavement, eyes focused on the ground, lights and shadows dancing in the corner of my vision. I walked as fast as I could without running. Since I didn’t want to draw attention to myself, I didn’t connect with the stones around my neck or use yellow magic to quicken my strides. For all I knew, there was someone watching from a window, or lurking around a corner. My heartbeat pounded in my chest. Biting air whooshed against my cheeks, my clenched jaw aching, my ears burning. Seconds later, I made it to another darkened alleyway and pressed myself against the wall. Eyeing the street, I made sure I wasn’t being followed. Nothing stirred. Nobody was there. It seemed that the street was still mercifully empty.

  I crept around the side of the building, running my fingers along the smooth whitewashed stone as I searched, eager for a service or crew entrance that I could slip into undetected. It didn’t take long to find a nondescript black, steel door with rust around the edges. Perfect! Using yellow, I pushed the magic from my stone into my body, channeling it instantly, and broke the lock with a snap. It creaked open with the faint grinding of metal against metal. I cringed, scrunching up my face. If only I had access to silencing magic. But I couldn’t think about that, I needed to move. I stepped inside.

  The familiar scent of being backstage surrounded me as I slipped into the darkest shadow. It was the mix of dust, heated plastic, floor polish, sweat, and paint that calmed me and also called to me. For the first time all day, I smiled. This was home. Longing enveloped me, but so did the comfort of what I loved. This was where I should have been all along. If only things hadn’t fallen apart all those months ago.