The Color Alchemist: The Complete Series

by Nina Walker

  “It’s true,” Lucas relented, sinking down into his chair. “I hardly use magic and have kept it a secret for years.”

  Richard turned on his son with a look like he was seeing him for the first time. Perhaps he was.

  “But why?” Richard asked, voice cracking in a way I’d never heard out of him. The two stared at each other for a long moment, the weight of truth and lies too much for their already tumultuous relationship.

  Lucas took a deep breath and explained, “I grew up hearing the way you talked about alchemists when they weren’t around, how you and Mom thought it was unnatural. So I learned how to hide what I was from a young age and always kept it that way.”

  “I didn’t know.” Richard’s voice was low, tormented. “If I had known, it would have changed everything.”

  Lucas sighed. “No, I don’t think it would have.”

  Richard’s nostrils flared, anger sparking in his cold eyes. I thought back to everything he’d done, knowing deep in my gut that Lucas was right.

  “While this little confession session is fun and all,” I piped in, “I can also attest to Lucas’s true loyalties. He saved me on more than one occasion. He helped the Resistance when he believed we were doing good, but he didn’t when he thought we weren’t acting in his kingdom’s best interest. I can truly say, having known him since he first aligned with the Resistance, he shouldn’t be punished for his father’s crimes. He is nothing like Richard. He’s a good man.”

  As I spoke, Richard’s silver eyes became dark holes, glaring openly at his son. But he didn’t say another word.

  “Well then,” Madame President said, leaning back in her chair, “where do we go from here? What’s next?”

  “Once the magic is returned to the alchemists, we can heal as much as possible and reestablish the borders,” Lucas supplied, breaking his father’s eye-contact and letting his shoulders relax.

  Nathan Scott laughed. “And just pretend this never happened? I say we take over New Colony and ensure this never happens again.”

  “I agree!” the other general added sharply.

  The president shook her head, calm as ever. “Let’s not get too greedy. We don’t want to become like our enemy, do we?”

  Richard sneered.

  “I believe I can heal the land,” Jessa’s voice rang out, excitement growing in her tone as she leaned forward in her seat. Her curly, dark hair glowed under the florescent light. “And I even think I can help your people who had their minds turned in support of New Colony.”

  I whirled on her. This must have something to do with Lucas being alive. I still hadn’t gotten to ask Jessa about it, but one thing I did know: Lucas had been dead. Something miraculous happened in that room, and I had to know what it was.

  “Explain,” Madame President instructed, curiosity burning in her intelligent eyes.

  Jessa gulped. “Well, it turns out I have this other power, this ability to separate colors. I discovered that it’s restoration magic,” she said. “I can turn back the effects of other magic with it. And umm…I saved Lucas’s life with it.”

  My eyes grew huge. “It’s true,” I attested, everything clicking into place. “He was dead. I was there. And then the next time I saw him, he was alive and well.”

  Well was relatively speaking, of course. Technically, the next time I saw him we were all attacked by the President’s black alchemy, but something told me to bring those questions up later.

  Jessa beamed, shooting a look of pure adoration at Lucas. “I figured it out just in time!”

  Madame President nodded. “There will still be retributions to be paid to our country, but I think for now, Lucas and his bride should return to the throne in exchange for your help restoring our land and people, paying for all damages rendered, and signing a border agreement so this doesn’t happen again.”

  Jessa nodded eagerly.

  A cacophony of voices rang out, some angry, some pleased, and everyone deciding now was time to state their differing opinion. Tristan caught my eye from across the table and winked. I smiled back, warming at his gaze. Maybe everything was going to be okay after all.

  “What about the alchemists?” Tristan’s steady voice rose over the arguments and everyone quieted, listening.

  “What about them?” the other general in the room snapped back.

  “I think they should have rights, too,” he said confidently, his voice smooth and commanding. “They’ve also been victims in this, maybe more than anyone.”

  The silence stretched between the group.

  “And from both sides,” he added.

  “What do you propose?” the president asked.

  “Don’t ask me.” He shrugged. “Isn’t that why she’s here?” He pointed to me.

  I sat up taller in my chair. “Yes, ever since alchemists were discovered, we’ve been treated as heathens and criminals, or we’ve been used to serve other people’s interests, and not always the good people.”

  My eyes darted to Richard and narrowed.

  “I propose all alchemists be properly trained, given a code of ethics to live by, and given the freedom to choose their own paths in life. If some of them would like to serve the royal family or their country, then so be it. But they shouldn’t be forced into servitude, nor should they be unfairly imprisoned.”

  A few people shifted uncomfortably.

  “It should be illegal to harm them without cause.” My fingers stabbed at the tabletop, adrenaline kicking in. “And if they break the laws, they should be treated just like anyone else and given a fair trial. At the end of the day, alchemists are as human as anybody else, and so they should be treated as such. With dignity and respect, with rights and equality, and as assets to our society.”

  The president beamed. “I whole-heartedly agree.”

  Pride swelled, and I smiled so wide that I could feel it in my entire face.

  “And since my election, I’ve found most of my people agree, as well. Change is in the air, for all of us. It may take lifetimes to end the bigotry. As long as we have differences, there will be people who twist those differences into justifications for hate and greed. But that doesn’t mean we’ll ever give up on fostering what really matters.” She paused. “And that’s love.”

  A huge weight lifted off me and for the first time in my life, a sense of hope bloomed square in my chest that maybe I would actually get to taste true freedom. Maybe with someone like her in world leadership and Richard behind bars, I would get to live life on my terms. I could find myself instead of always looking out for everybody else.

  “That’s preposterous,” Richard spat. “What a waste of resources. Alchemy has its place in serving King and country.”

  Everyone glared at him but he held himself strong.

  “Why else would God create magic, if not to use it to strengthen those in power?”

  “You will be quiet,” General Scott snapped. “You’ve had your say. Don’t forget, your time in power is over.”

  We discussed everything for a little while longer until it became clear that Richard wasn’t going to stop interrupting. He hated everything, literally everything, proposed. Of course he did. He was a narcissist who hadn’t gotten his way.

  Finally, the president had had enough.

  “All right, get him out of here,” she called to the soldiers standing on the back wall.

  Four of them ambled forward, carefully unlatching him from where he was restrained in the chair, though he still had shackles and was cuffed. He began to move from the room, chains clinking, hatred rolling off him.

  Then he dove.

  Not toward the president.

  Not toward his son or anybody else.

  But toward Jessa.

  “This is your fault!” he yelled, voice dripping in venom. “You turned my son against me. Did you use red to do it?” He was quick, wrapping the cuffs around her neck and yanking hard. Her eyes welled, blood pooling.

  A brief pause was followed by an explosion of act
ion.

  “Don’t touch her!” Lucas jumped on his father, clawing at the man’s arms. Others charged, grabbing. I went for Jessa, trying to pry her loose. But the man had just the right angle and just the right madness to keep his hold on Jessa. Her eyes rolled back into her head, her body slumping. He sneered, pulling even tighter, resilient to our attempts to rip him away.

  “You’re going to kill her!” I screamed, my voice joining everybody else’s, lost in the panic of the moment. Fear and anger doubled with the knowledge that I was weak without my magic.

  “You’re pathetic!” Richard screamed. “All of you.” But his eyes were zeroed in on Lucas. He spat in his son’s face.

  “Drop her now, or you will die,” General Scott said, gun clicking into place and trained on the back of Richard’s head.

  “As long as she dies with me,” Richard replied, yanking infinitely harder on the cuffs choking Jessa.

  She wasn’t going to make it. Lucas jumped up, pushing away from his father and yelling at Scott, “Do it!”

  Scott hesitated as he looked at Lucas. The two men shared a quick look of understanding.

  “If you don’t do it,” Lucas continued. “Give it to me and I’ll do it.”

  Everything in his voice was smooth resolve. He meant every word.

  Boom!

  The bullet blasted through Richard’s head, blood and tissue flying, his body slumping, cuffs relaxing instantly. Blood pooled and I choked back a mix of horror and relief, hardly believing the truth of what had just happened.

  King Richard was dead.

  The room fell to silence once again. Finally, General Scott spoke to Lucas, “Nobody should have to kill their own father, but you’re a brave man for being willing to do what had to be done. I’m glad it was me; you don’t deserve to live with this on your shoulders.”

  Lucas nodded once, his face devoid of color, his eyes hazy.

  “Let me see her.” I pried Jessa’s limp body from Richard’s dead grip, smoothing her hair and searching her swollen face for signs of life. I needed to heal her. I needed green. A little green was all it would take.

  Realization sunk me to my knees.

  I didn’t have magic anymore—it hadn’t returned.

  None of us had it back yet.

  “How long?” I growled at the president. “How long until the magic is back?”

  She stood at the head of the table, hands pressed into the wood, staring down at us with a broken expression. “Months.”

  The room quieted, everyone watching as Lucas pulled Jessa from my lap into his own. He kissed her face, tears dropping from his eyes. She was still, limp as a doll, her hair awkwardly strewn across her face, Richard’s blood splattered across one cheek.

  “Please,” he whispered. “Now it’s your turn to come back.”

  Time slowed. Ever so slightly, her chest rose, her lips parted, and then suddenly, she inhaled a gasping breath.

  Her eyes fluttered open, arms flailing toward her neck, and she coughed, choking for a long minute.

  “Am I alive?” she asked between coughs, blood-red eyes blinking in rapid succession as she looked up at her husband.

  Lucas laughed once. “Yes.” He kissed her on the forehead. “Yes, we’re both alive. Everything is going to be okay.”

  Epilogue

  Eighteen Months Later - Lucas

  I love watching her dance. Quite honestly, it’s one of my favorite pastimes. The way she moves, it makes me forget myself and remember at the same time. Of all her magics, this one is my favorite.

  “I wish I had passion like that,” I say, pushing myself off the wall of the private dressing room and wrapping her in a tight hug. I bury my face in her warm neck and inhale her floral scent.

  “Ew! I’m all sweaty.” She laughs, but lets me hold her anyway. “It’s the nerves. I don’t know why I’m so worried.”

  “You look perfect,” I say, because it’s the truth, but also because I don’t want her to be afraid. In her white flowery costume, she reminds me of how she looked on our wedding day, and that is a look I’ll never forget again. “You’re going to be amazing out there.”

  “Thanks.” She smiles, excitement flashing in her eyes.

  She’s been preparing for this performance for months, adding extra practice time on top of the rehearsals at the theatre. Her private studio back at the palace has quickly become her favorite place, of which I take full advantage—always popping in to say hi, maybe sneaking in a kiss if I’m lucky, but mostly I watch her in her element.

  “Actually, on second thought,” I muse, “I do think I have your kind of passion about one thing.”

  She peers up at me from under long, fake lashes, nodding. They make her blue eyes stand out more than usual and I lose my breath. “Rebuilding the kingdom,” she says.

  I shake my head. “Well, that too, I guess. But I’m talking about you.”

  And I mean it. I thought losing my parents would break me, and while I was still sad about everything that happened to them, I found solace in my marriage. Jessa had helped to make me a better man and a better leader. I was starting to believe I was growing into the kind of king I always wanted to be. A king who put his people first, no matter their station, and no matter their utility.

  One of the first things I did was create a parliament system where the people could vote in representatives, and those representatives help me run things. I saw too much of my father in myself that year when everything went down. I hurt innocent people. It wasn’t something I could risk again. Our royal family had ruled New Colony for generations, but what had once been an idealistic leadership had turned into a greedy dictatorship. I feared if I was the sole person in charge, I might one day turn into that, too.

  Never again.

  Jessa trembles under my touch. Her mind is racing.

  “What are you thinking about? Are you still feeling nervous?”

  “Yeah, a little.”

  I kiss the top of her head. “Don’t be. I have a surprise for you after the performance. So don’t be nervous. Be excited. You’re going to look back on this night with only fondness.”

  Little does she know I’ve flown her older sister in for the performance. They haven’t seen each other in over six months.

  And okay, the fondness line is cheesy, but it instantly calms her.

  She gives me a quick kiss and then breaks free of my arms, moving back to double check her makeup in the mirror. “If it’s a surprise from you, then I’m sure I will love it.”

  A knock sounds on the door. “Sir, it’s time to take your seat.”

  I wish Jessa good luck one last time and then find my place in the crowd. I won’t be sitting up in a box like my family had done all those years. No, I’m in a plush velvet seat, front row center. A jolt of my own nerves rips through me. Not because I think anything might go wrong, but because I know how much this means to Jessa.

  She’d given up dance for most of the last eighteen months. We had to focus on rebuilding, and dance had taken the backseat. We started with the government. West America followed through with their promise to change laws and enough states voted to add a constitutional amendment ensuring alchemists’ rights. There is still a heavy prejudice against magic that runs deep, but for now, things are improving, people are beginning to accept it as part of the world.

  Unwinding what happened in the Shadow Lands and freeing the minds of those harmed in Nashville was a painstakingly long and brutal process, but we finally finished the job two months ago. It didn’t help that the effects of black alchemy took most alchemists months to wear off. Jessa hadn’t gotten her magic back for seven months. Mine had taken a full year.

  “There he is!” Christopher, Jessa’s dad, walks down the space between the row and the orchestra pit, arms outstretched in greeting. “How are you doing, son?”

  I jump up to offer him, Lara, and Lacey tight hugs. Christopher has taken to calling me son, and I can’t say I mind. They all look great, smiles beaming from
ear to ear. Both of her parents look much younger than I’ve ever seen them before, the lines around their eyes less pronounced, their skin warmer, eyes brighter. But it’s the peace that has settled over them that makes the biggest difference. The family is dressed in their best outfits, matching in bright blue dress clothes. The color reminds me of Jessa. Lacey skips and twirls, taking in the beautiful theatre with adoring, round eyes.

  “Where’s your other daughter?” I ask, looking over the crowd, trying to spot that telltale blonde hair among the sea of people.

  “Thank you for flying her out.” Christopher pats me on the back. “They’ve been traveling all day. She just called and said they’re in the city. They should be here any minute.”

  I relax down into my padded seat, glad Jessa would get to spend time with her whole family over the next few days. Sasha, who we now call Frankie, has changed the most over the last eighteen months since the war ended. Or maybe it’s not that she ever really changed, but just remembered who she was in the first place. If anyone can understand that, it’s me.

  About a year ago, she officially dropped her alias Sasha, happily returning to Francesca, the name her parents had chosen for her. And she hasn’t come back to New Colony, except to visit family. She’s chosen to spend her time working with the alchemists in America instead.

  I still think of it as West America. But that was another thing that has changed. I created a campaign to right any misinformation about our kingdom’s history, not to mention, the state of the world. It was never West America; it was always just called America. We need to stand by the truth, not propaganda.

  “Hi, there! How’s my favorite brother-in-law, doing?” Frankie plops down into the empty chair on my left, giving me a strong side-hug. Her blonde hair is pulled up into a sleek knot on top of her head and she’s wearing her signature cut and color—a black form-fitting dress.

  “I’m your only brother-in-law,” I deadpan.

  “And you’re still my favorite,” she teases.

  “I’m doing well,” I say, giving her my full attention. She has a relaxed air about her tonight, something I haven’t seen in her. Ever. “And how are you?” I question with a raised eyebrow.