Chantress Alchemy (16 page)

“Please.” From proud Sir Isaac, this was a sign of desperation. “Whatever you can do, Chantress—”

“I understand,” I said.

But I could think of no way to help him.

Sir Isaac offered to escort me back to my room, but I declined. I needed to stay free as long as I could, away from Margery’s watchful eye. Only forty-two hours to find the crucible! That was hardly any time at all. I’d just spent a whole morning asking questions, and yet as far as I could see, I was not one jot closer to recovering either the crucible or my magic.

I could hear the laughter of courtiers ahead of me, the murmur of servants behind me. Trying to avoid them all, I plunged down a staircase that led to a cloisterlike passageway. Its windows looked out on a small, green courtyard, edged with rough, bare vines.

I skidded to a stop before one of these windows, telling myself that I needed to slow down, that no one was chasing after me. And yet as I stared out at the neat, green square, I truly felt haunted. If I could not find the crucible, I would be disgraced, and if the Stone could not be made, the kingdom would starve.
Add Wrexham and his spies to that, and it was hard not to feel that monsters were leaping out at me everywhere.

At that very moment, something
did
leap out at me: a tall, shadowy figure approaching from behind. I whirled around, hoping it was Nat.

It was Gabriel.

He bowed and offered me his most charming smile. “How marvelous to run across you here. I’m in a bit of a rush, I’m afraid—Sir Isaac’s expecting me in the laboratory—but I did want to apologize. Not because he insisted, you understand, but of my own accord.”

There was a penitent quality in his smile now, which only made it all the more appealing.

“Truth be told, I was trying to impress you,” he confessed. “But I never meant to hurt you, my lady Chantress. I would never do that, not for the world. You must believe that.” He spoke in a low, earnest voice, his lively eyes subdued. “Please say you forgive me.”

How could I help it? “Of course I forgive you.”

The spark came back into his brown eyes. “You are very kind.”

Before I realized what he was doing, he clasped my nearest hand and kissed it.

I stood rooted to the spot. No brief courtly salutation, this. He lingered too long for that, his lips warm against my skin. And when he raised his head, he favored me with the most dazzling grin I’d seen from him yet.

My cheeks went hot. I’d only meant to say that I bore no grudges; I hadn’t meant to encourage him.

His grin widened. “I must run, Chantress. But I will hope to see you tonight.”

He rushed off without waiting for an answer, but I had one:
Not if I can help it
.

It wasn’t that I disliked Gabriel. But with Nat forced to keep away, and the question of marriage staring me in the face, Gabriel’s attentions were a complication I could do without. What made them especially complicated were my own reactions: he’d taken me by surprise with that kiss, and my pulse had quickened despite myself. But right now that seemed all the more reason to avoid him.

Feeling unsettled, I walked on down the passageway until I came to a door that led out to the courtyard. I pushed it open—it swung easily—and stepped onto the grass. After being so closed in, it was a relief to be outdoors in the fresh, chilly air.

But merely for a moment. As if by instinct, I found myself listening for magic, hoping against hope that it would be clearer out here in the open. But no, it was still a muddle—and after my experience this morning, the fractured sounds made my skin prickle with apprehension. I stood my ground for a minute longer, but my fear only grew, and with it came a consciousness of how very exposed I was. Too many windows looked out on this courtyard. Anyone could be watching me.

I ducked back inside and left the passageway. I needed to find a safe haven, a protected place, somewhere I could take stock and decide what to do next. But by now I was completely lost again. Unnerved, I chose routes at random, dodging anyone who came
my way, racing faster and faster. Eventually I stumbled across a place I recognized: the library where Nat and I had met that morning.

As I stood there, catching my breath, I heard a fierce whisper behind me: “I thought you were going to stay in your rooms.”

I spun around. Nat stood there, looking every bit as dangerous as Sybil had made him sound.

As he came closer, I saw the worry in his eyes.

“I’ve been looking for you everywhere,” he said. “It’s all over the palace that you spent the morning with Sybil Dashwood and Gabriel—the very two people I warned you about. Is that true?”

“It’s all right.” I rushed to reassure him. “I didn’t come to any harm.”

He didn’t seem relieved. “You might come to harm if you go on like this—spending time with two of the likeliest suspects in the whole palace! What were you thinking?”

“I hoped I might learn something useful.” I explained what Penebrygg had said about finding the crucible, and how it might change the King’s mind.

Nat looked more and more alarmed. “You mean you went to see the King, too?”

“Yes, though it didn’t do me any good. But if I found the crucible—”

“You mean you’re serious about that? Lucy, you can’t. Not when—” He stopped himself and lowered his voice, even though the library doors were shut. “Not given what’s happened to you.”

“I can’t just sit and do nothing,” I said in frustration. “And don’t tell me you could, if it were you. Because I know you: you’d be out and about, trying to sort things out yourself.”

Two traits I loved in Nat were his honesty and the way he treated me as an equal. Watching the struggle in his face, I thought that both were in jeopardy. Then his eyes met mine.

“Point taken,” he said with a sigh. “You’re right: it’s not fair to ask something of you that I wouldn’t do myself. It’s just—” His hands balled up. “It’s hard thinking of you wandering around with people who might hurt you. Who might
already
be hurting you.”

“I’m being careful,” I assured him. “And I’m learning things. Useful things.”

His hands remained tense, but I could see he was intrigued. “Like what?”

“Well, Sybil knows a lot about Chantresses. No great surprises there, but she knows a fair amount about alchemy, too.”

“Alchemy?” Nat considered this. “That
is
interesting.”

“It does make you wonder, doesn’t it? And there are other things too.”

“Like what?”

“It’s hard to describe.” The more I thought about it, the less certain I was that the look she’d given me in the laboratory had meant anything. It was true that she had a relatively transparent face, but I didn’t know her well enough to read it perfectly.

“Do you think she’s the thief?” Nat said.

I hesitated. “On balance? No. Whoever stole the crucible is
good at keeping secrets. And Sybil, well . . . that’s not her strong suit. She’s always blurting out exactly what she’s thinking.”

“That could be an act,” Nat said.

“Maybe. But she told me all about her mother’s dealings with alchemists. And she really shocked Gabriel when she talked about the Green Lion and the Black Crow and the Transformation. If she truly were up to something, wouldn’t she have kept all that to herself?”

“How did you know Gabriel was shocked?” Nat asked.

“I was watching him.”

“I see.”

That was all Nat said, but I felt my cheeks grow warm. Did he know that Gabriel had proclaimed himself my valentine? “I—I don’t trust him one bit,” I said.

I couldn’t see Sybil as a thief and a murderer, but Gabriel . . . it was just possible. After all, he’d been a fervent disciple of alchemy for years. What if he wanted to make the Stone for himself? That would be reason enough for him to steal the crucible.

But, of course, Gabriel wasn’t the only person in Greenwich who was obsessed with alchemy. And there were plenty of other people who had no witnesses as to their whereabouts on that night. If magic were involved, perhaps even those with unbreakable alibis might be involved in the theft in some way. . . .

Face it
, I told myself.
You have no idea who stole the crucible. You’re just going around in circles. And time keeps ticking away. . . .

“I’m sure he’s up to no good,” Nat said grimly, and I realized he was still talking about Gabriel.

“What makes you say that?”

“I’ve been watching him this week myself, and I’ve seen him coming in and out of the alchemy laboratory in the middle of the night, all alone. And he spends a lot of time near Sir Isaac’s rooms, even though his own are on the other side of the palace.”

“That
is
strange. But maybe Sir Isaac wants him close at hand.”

“He’s there even when Sir Isaac’s out,” Nat said. “So something’s up. I just don’t know what.”

It sounded thin to me. Maybe the truth was that Nat simply didn’t like Gabriel. Whatever the answer, I wasn’t about to add fuel onto any fires by leaping to Gabriel’s defense. Especially not when I harbored my own vague suspicions of him as well.

“I could help keep watch on him,” I offered.

“No,” Nat said emphatically. “Look: I know you don’t want to stay in your room, and I understand why. But there’s someone very dangerous on the loose here, someone who might already have attacked you. And there’s a real chance that it’s Gabriel. I don’t want you around him any more than is absolutely necessary.”

He was so close that I could see the smoky green flecks in his warm hazel eyes. He touched my cheek with his thumb, as gentle as his voice was rough. “I mean it when I say I’d do anything to keep you safe, Lucy. If only I could get you out of this place. . . .”

I froze. Someone was calling me. “Chantress?”

It was Margery. I jerked back from Nat in panic. “You should go,” I whispered. I couldn’t hope to avoid Wrexham’s spy forever, but it would be very bad if she discovered us together.

Instead of moving away, Nat pulled me closer and kissed me. For an instant, delight eclipsed fear. Nat, my Nat, with his arms around me . . .

“My lady Chantress? Are you here?” Margery was coming ever closer.

Fear clamped down again, and I pulled away. “Go!” I whispered.

This time Nat raced for the door behind us. I hastened the other way, hoping the heat in my cheeks and lips wouldn’t show.

In the room beyond, I came across Margery. “You called?” I said.

Margery regarded me with a cool expression, but I could see anger in the folds of her mouth. “Where have you been, my lady? You’re late for your fitting.”

“My fitting?”

“With the seamstresses. I made the arrangements with them this morning, and they were due to arrive at your room a quarter of an hour ago. Of course, I never imagined you’d be away half the day. We’ll have to hope they’ll wait for you, or you’ll have nothing fit to wear to the banquet tonight.”

“The banquet?”

“For Valentine’s Day. Had you forgotten?”

I hadn’t even heard about it. Was that what Gabriel had meant when he’d talked about seeing me tonight? “Is it really necessary that I go?”

Margery looked shocked, as if I’d proposed turning down God himself. “It is a royal invitation, my lady. You cannot refuse.
Not without giving offense to the King. And it will be an offense to him, too, if you are not properly dressed.”

That settled matters, then. I could not afford to offend the King. Like it or not, I would have to go with Margery now. And I would have to go to the banquet, too.

And all the while, the hours would keep slipping away.

Within an hour, I had come to the frustrating conclusion that it is impossible to move, let alone escape anywhere, when you are surrounded by seamstresses sticking pins into you. In desperation, I claimed to be faint, but that got me nowhere. Margery just stood over me, making me sip water, while the seamstresses trotted out samples of cloth and trimmings until I thought I would scream.

Four hours later, I stood in the anteroom of the Great Hall, trussed up like a Christmas goose. The seamstresses had done their best, but it had proved impossible to make an entire new costume at such short notice. Instead, to my embarrassment, I was wearing someone else’s dress. Hearing of my difficulties—through Joan, who was friendly with the seamstresses—Sybil had sent some of her own garments to me, with a message that I was to alter them as I saw fit, for she no longer had need of them.

A gracious gesture, but Sybil was taller and shapelier than I was, and it had been necessary to rip out seams and baste in new
ones to keep the bodice from falling off me. The skirts, too, had required pinning and tucking. In spite of these efforts, the fabric still slid around and crumpled in odd places—a fault that grew more marked by the moment.

My fingers went up to the pins at my shoulder. I had terrible visions of the silken folds unraveling midbanquet. Perhaps I should just retreat now . . . though what retreat could there be, with Margery standing over me? Even now, she was watching me from the nearest doorway. But truly, while I was wearing this dress and the high-heeled slippers that matched it, there was no need for her to bother. I was as tethered as a staked goat.

Just as I was about to totter into the Great Hall, Sybil swished up to me, a vision in strawberry-red satin. Her bodice made the most of every curve, and pearls glowed against her shell-pink skin. Her face radiated nothing but pleasure in seeing me; I wondered again if I had only imagined that look of guilt earlier.

She linked her arm in mine. “Dear Lucy, you look wonderful.”

I look absurd
, I wanted to say, but since the dress was hers, I thought that might be rude.

Apparently my face gave me away, however, for she laughed and said, “Really, you do, whatever you might think. That sea green suits you. Indeed, it looks far better on you than it ever did on me. And no need to worry that anyone here has seen it either; I haven’t worn it in ages. I honestly don’t know why Joan packed it, but now I’m glad she did.”