Elana Koskova ran her tongue over her dry lips. “Well, no point putting it off, it’ll either explode or it won’t…” she murmured as she picked up a small hammer in her shaking hand. She held the hammer above a trail of frozen, muck coloured extract—

  —and swung.

  The extract shattered into fine powder, coating the ice tray. A sigh of relief escaped her lips. No trip to the Alchemist surgery today. She gingerly scraped the powder into a beaker of alcohol and grimaced as the pungent aroma of rotten fungus assaulted her nose.

  “Sovereign Sculptor, what’s that stench?”

  Elana started. She’d forgotten her supervisor, Sofia, was there. “Winter blister root,” Elana said, and placed the beaker in a cradle made of black, metallic uzhasgart, then pulled a matchbox from her coat and lit the burner under the beaker. Once satisfied with the level of flame, Elana wiped her hands on the thick leather of her azure Alchemist coat and turned to Sofia.

  The petite, middle-aged Alchemist sculptor lounged on Elana’s bed—the lone piece of comfortable furniture in the lab. Sofia had her hazel-eyed gaze fixed on her manicured nails. Above her, a gaslamp hung from the low ceiling and cast its warm white light on her as she removed a speck of grime that dared to tarnish her nails.

  “The extract should be ready in five minutes,” Elana said.

  “About time. I need to report to Voronin Master in an hour,” Sofia said as she tucked a stray lock of mousy hair behind her ear.

  Of course. That explained why Sofia’s maroon roll-neck shirt exposed just a hint of her ivory throat. As if the corset and lack of coat weren’t obvious enough. Elana fingered her own roll-neck shirt, which she kept carefully tucked up to her chin. Only her husband ever had the pleasure of seeing her throat, she made sure of that. The thought of Sergei sent a pang through her two hearts.

  Elana cast a glance at the bubbling sludge of the extract, then walked to the lab’s single window and stared through the frost-covered glass at the encroaching dusk. She rubbed her eyes, trying in vain to ease the gritty burn that plagued them. She needed sleep.

  Far below, the gaslamps lining the street flickered to life and steam curled from their uzhasgart hoods as the ice coating them melted. From her vantage point on the fourth floor of the Alchemist Guild, Elana could see the twinkling lights of the Warrior Guild a few miles away. It loomed, a dark giant over the city that surrounded it—a giant dwarfed by the hulking Alchemist Guild.

  Longing tugged at her. It’d been two years since she’d seen Sergei, and since she’d given their son, Mikhail, a hug. Now, in only minutes, she’d be finished with the cursed telepathy extract and be free to see her family again.

  With a wistful sigh, and ignored by Sofia, Elana returned to her workbench.

  The alcohol finished boiling away and soon only a thick, brown sludge remained in the beaker. She turned the burner off and picked up the beaker, disturbing the sludge. The fetor of winter blister permeated her small lab, and she stifled a cough as she poured the finished extract into four uzhasgart phials, and capped them. Elana picked up a phial and stared at the swirling lines of the black metal. She sucked in a deep breath and faced Sofia—still focused on her nails. “I’m done. It’s over to you now.”

  Sofia looked up and arched a single, delicate eyebrow. “If you think I’m going to put that vile muck in my mouth, you’re dumber than I thought.”

  Elana blinked. “Excuse me?”

  “You heard.”

  A knot formed in Elana’s stomach and she swallowed. “But I’m not qualified to test the extract—”

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  “Then you better improve the flavour, otherwise my report to Voronin will say the extract is incomplete. Still.”

  Elana stepped back, the room spinning around her. This couldn’t be happening. “Please, Sofia, don’t do that.”

  “I’m not doing anything,” Sofia said. “You’re the one refusing to finish your job.”

  “It’s not my job to test!”

  Sofia launched to her feet, eyes flashing. “It’s your job to do what I tell you. Do not forget why Voronin pulled me from the sculptors and made me babysit you.”

  Elana took another step back and smacked into her workbench. She hung her head, gazing at the phial of telepathy extract clutched in her thick fingers.

  Sofia sashayed over and gently took Elana’s chin in her hand, lifting her head. “Can’t you understand that I’m giving you the opportunity to redeem yourself? If you test this extract, you could save dozens of sculptors. I don’t want to rob you of that privilege.”

  Sculptors were relying on her for this extract. It’d take weeks to improve the flavour, how many sculptors might get hurt by then? “All right,” she whispered.

  “I knew you’d be smart.” Sofia returned to the bed and perched on the edge, watching Elana.

  Elana uncapped the phial and swilled the sludgy extract. Sovereign Sculptor, please let it work. Elana drank the extract. She shuddered as it oozed down her throat. It wasn’t so bad—

  A dull blade of agony ripped through Elana’s head and she sank to her knees, a scream tearing from her throat. Grey spots exploded in her vision. She squeezed her eyes shut, but the grey remained.

  Slowly the pain faded and Elana’s screams diminished to a whimper.

  One of the grey patches—a network of pulsing and twisting intertwined threads—floated in front of Elana’s closed eyes. With the pain now only a dull throb, Elana braved the world and opened her eyes.

  Sofia crouched before her, brow furrowed. The grey patch clinging to Elana’s vision blurred Sofia’s features.

  Elana shook her head and blinked, trying to clear the blur. It refused to move.

  “Did it work?” Sofia asked.

  Elana rubbed her forehead. “I don’t know. My vision is affected, you have this blurry grey mass hanging to your head.”

  Sofia rose. The grey moved with her.

  “Huh,” Elana said, pushing herself off the floor and swiping a strand of white hair from her eyes. She gazed around the lab absently as she tugged at her knuckles, popping them. Grey dots still hovered all around her, some close, some faded and distant. Minds?

  “I would’ve carried you to the bed,” Sofia said, “but you are way too heavy.”

  Elana glanced down at her plentiful curves. I’m not fat!

  “Can you communicate telepathically with me?” Sofia asked.

  “I’ll try.” Elana focused on Sofia’s mind and a pulsing, cobalt blue tendril snaked from Elana’s forehead. She shrieked, and the tendril disappeared.

  “What is it? What did you see?” Sofia asked.

  “This weird… cobalt thing slinking from my head,” Elana said with a shudder.

  “I didn’t see anything, try again. Maybe it’s the extract?”

  Elana waited a moment for her hearts to calm, then focused on Sofia. An icy chill raced up her spine, and she shivered as the tendril coiled out. It reached the older woman’s grey mind. “Anything?” Elana asked.

  “No.”

  The tendril slithered around Sofia’s mind, almost as though it were trying to latch on.

  “Still nothing,” Sofia said.

  Elana sighed, and it vanished. “I imagine we both need to take the telepathy extract for it to work.”

  “Oh no. No no no.” Sofia lifted her hands, palms towards Elana. “You will take it down to the vault and try it on uzhas.”

  Elana’s chest tightened as panic welled. “What? No. I can’t do that. I’ve never bonded with uzhas.”

  “It’s perfectly safe. It’s only severing contact with uzhas and turning it into uzhasgart that hurts. Usually. And isn’t that what you designed the telepathy extract to solve?”

  “Well, yes. But—”

  “Then get your fat butt to the vault and test the extract.”

  “I’m forbidden to leave my lab without an escort,” Elana said.

  “Oh for the love of… fine. I’ll come hold your hand. Satisfied?”

  Stomach churning, Elana watched Sofia march to the door. I’m never going to see Sergei and Mikhail again…

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