On that strangest of first days, Beth would never have thought she’d feel at home in this research facility with only Isabelle and Jack for company. And yet, as she washed the breakfast dishes before entering the lab for her morning’s work, she was humming to herself and looking forward to the day to come.

Isabelle had promised something different. Beth didn’t normally like surprises, but she’d learnt to make an exception for those arranged by Isabelle, which were always the good kind. It scared her sometimes how well her master knew and understood her after only a few months. She wasn’t used to that feeling. It was almost intoxicating.

When she paused to reflect, though, she sometimes thought that she didn’t understand Isabelle anywhere near as well. Partly that was just because Isabelle was far more of a people person than her apprentice, but it was also undeniable that she’d never once seen the other girl seem bored or frustrated or upset or even a little concerned with her situation.

There had been little practical progress with the escape plan Isabelle was concocting. She was apparently convinced that it would work in theory, but some of the alchemical ingredients they’d need were expensive and hard to source even for the Sirgalese government. They were at least taking advantage of that to stall on the production of the deadly weapons they were supposed to be working on, claiming there was little further progress that could be made on most of their projects without what they’d requested.

In truth, Beth could count the number of times she’d seen Isabelle working on something of importance in that regard on the fingers of one hand. Mostly she produced concoctions for the purposes of showing Beth how they were to be made, or demonstrating an esoteric use of a particular root; occasionally she worked on antidotes to all kinds of alchemical poison or neutralisers that could prevent dangerous explosions if something went wrong.

Beth hadn’t needed any of the former, at least, but on five occasions she’d made mistakes that could have blown her up if Isabelle hadn’t noticed in time and if she hadn’t been so thorough in setting up safety wards. Isabelle had needed one yesterday, which still rattled Beth, who was by this time nearly convinced that her master was the perfect alchemist.

“There’s no such thing,” she’d claimed when Beth suggested the idea. “There’s still so much more I have to learn and discover.”

If Beth had been in any way attracted to girls, she would have fallen madly in love with Isabelle just because of the smile she gave then. She thought it was the sort of smile poets might have written odes to. A smile of pure, simple delight in her work.

That, at least, was one thing Beth could understand about Isabelle.

She stacked the last of the bowls neatly in the cupboard and tossed her hair back so she could tie it into a neat ponytail that wouldn’t risk being caught in a cauldron or contaminating anything. That particular rule of lab safety was one Isabelle refused to obey, for some reason Beth couldn’t work out – her hair was easily three times the length of Beth’s, yet she still wore it loose – but she insisted on Beth’s following it regardless.

Beth had accepted it by now. Isabelle was brilliant enough to be allowed a few eccentricities of that sort.

As she left the kitchen, she saw Jack coming the other way with his own empty breakfast bowl. “Morning,” he said with a smile.

“Morning,” Beth replied, moving to one side of the corridor so they could pass each other.

“Starting work?”

“Yup.”

“Hope it goes well.”

“Me too. Thanks. Have a good day, too.”

They exchanged smiles, and that was the extent of their conversation. Most of Beth’s conversations with Jack were like that. She liked it, though. The easy familiarity of it, the way each smile carried a sense of that anticipation she’d first felt when they shared wine. The knowledge that it could turn into something more. If they were both ready. If they both wanted it.

She savoured that thought as she strolled through the facility to the lab. Isabelle was waiting for her when she opened the door, as she always was. Today she was sitting on the table, kicking her legs back and forth as if she were a child and holding a vial filled with dark purple liquid.

“Slight change of plan,” she said as Beth came in. “The Administration Department is complaining about our lack of tangible results recently. Despite the fact I’ve been devoting a lot of my energies to teaching my apprentice, and that they’re the ones holding up our work by not supplying what we need. Which means that we are going to give them tangible results.”

Beth winced. “What… exactly… does that imply?”

“We’re going to demonstrate a prototype I have created,” Isabelle said. “Which marks significant progress towards one of their goals, but still needs further refinement.”

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“That’s not – “

“What they want is to create a substance which can immobilise a large group of people without causing permanent harm. A paralytic agent. I have one in potion form, which would naturally only work on a single individual. And requires the user to be close enough to administer it. Combined with the rare and expensive nature of its ingredients, this means it is in practice largely useless, but it is certainly a major advance in alchemy and something that appears to be significant progress.”

Beth blinked a few times. That was… well, a terrifying idea. She could already imagine horrific uses for something like that. And Isabelle had made it. It was awful. Brilliant. “Are you… sure that’s a good idea?”

“Oh, it’s a terrible one. But the best I can come up with. Now, when I report this breakthrough to the Administration Department, they will undoubtedly want to see it tested on a human. Thus, we need to carry out human testing ourselves.”

Beth winced. While Jack was their test subject, in practice the two girls rarely summoned him unless someone was watching. Isabelle tested her creations on herself, and was slowly persuading Beth to do the same. But she wouldn’t wish something like this on any of them. “Should I… fetch Jack? Or – “

“You probably should. I – don’t want to be alone. And you’ll need a break from watching me at some point.”

That was the answer, then: Isabelle intended to test this… creation… on herself. Beth couldn’t work out how she felt about that: mingled relief and guilt at the relief and concern for her friend. And concern in case something went wrong, because Isabelle was the only one qualified to deal with it if it did.

“I’ll – go find him – then.”

Jack was seldom hard to find. When he wasn’t keeping Isabelle and Beth company in the lab, he kept to himself in his quarters. He answered Beth’s knock within a few seconds, and listened patiently while she explained the situation.

“That’s Isabelle for you,” he said. “A martyr to her work.”

“Not… literally?”

“Not so far.” Seeing the look on Beth’s face, he added: “And not ever, I don’t think. If she really thought something would get her killed, she wouldn’t put herself through it without a better reason than this.”

It was scant reassurance. But another thing Beth had worked out about Isabelle was that there was no way to stop her from doing this. She and Jack would just have to do as they were told and hope it worked out.

“Beth filled you in?” Isabelle asked, when the two of them made it back to the lab.

“Yes,” said Jack.

“Good. Now, if this works as intended, I will be unable to communicate while under its effects, so we should agree what we plan to do at this stage.” She jumped down from the table to reveal the set of objects she’d set out around her.

“Most important: antidote.” She lifted a second vial, its contents murky brown. “This contains one dose. We’ll test that as well later, but first I want to investigate how long it takes to wear off naturally. My best estimate is four hours, but that sort of thing is notoriously difficult to do precisely. If I haven’t fully recovered by… let’s say five after noon, administer the antidote. Otherwise, only do it if there’s something that’s obviously wrong.”

Jack was right: she really was a martyr to her work. There wasn’t a trace of fear of what she was about to do, just calm scientific analysis. “Take my temperature and pulse at fifteen-minute intervals for the duration, and record the values. I’ll do it myself before I begin so we have comparison data. There’s various other tests I’d like you to try, but they don’t have specific times attached, though it might be worth repeating them an hour or two apart to see if anything changes. I’ve listed them in my notebook – “ she grabbed the notebook in question and held it out.

Beth took it numbly and didn’t open it.

“And just – make sure I’m not alone. Talk to me. Please.”

There it was: a trace of normal human emotion. Vulnerability.

“Got it,” said Beth, though she didn’t know how she felt about having a one-sided conversation with a paralysed Isabelle. But if Isabelle was doing something like this, and if she wanted to be talked to, then Beth would make it work.

“Got it,” agreed Jack.

“Test readings, then,” Isabelle said, and abruptly shoved the thermometer into her own mouth. Beth watched her, still trying to process what was happening. This was a side to Isabelle she’d only seen glimpses of before: calm yet relentless efficiency that swept Beth and Jack up in its flow.

A few seconds later she removed the thermometer from her mouth. “I always hate doing that,” she said. “Thirty-six point nine. Don’t worry, my body temperature is always higher than most people’s; that’s perfectly normal. Set up a table for recording the values, would you?”

Beth jumped. Table. She needed paper and a quill. There was always some kept in the lab, though at a safe distance from all reactants; it took her a few seconds to remember where they were put and grab them.

“Thirty-six point – “

“Nine,” Isabelle confirmed.

Beth noted it down before she could forget and drew in the structure of a table around the value, taking care to leave enough space for plenty more measurements. Then she traded anxious glances with Jack while Isabelle tapped her foot back and forth to count out time and measure her pulse.

“Sixty-four beats per minute.”

Beth noted it down, wondering how Isabelle could be so calm. She was willing to bet her own pulse was considerably higher.

“I think that’s everything covered, then,” Isabelle said. “Unless you have questions?”

Beth had too many questions to ask, and likely not the kind that Isabelle had in mind. But she couldn’t just let Isabelle do this without even at least trying to voice her objections. “What if something goes wrong?”

“That’s what the antidote is for. And besides, nothing will go wrong, because I do not make mistakes.”

If there was one person Beth could have believed that of, it was Isabelle. But there was a difference between trusting someone and having faith in their abilities, and just letting them risk their own life like this. “But – I – will you be conscious the whole time?”

“I expect so,” Isabelle answered. “Though it’s impossible to be sure. That’s one of the reasons we’re running these tests.”

“And you… you can cope with that?”

“I hope so. That’s why I don’t want to be left alone.”

She wasn’t even the slightest bit hesitant. Beth didn’t quite know what to do.

“Anything else?” asked Isabelle.

Beth hesitated. There wasn’t really a way to say please don’t do this without outright saying it. Maybe she should just –

“Well then. See you in a few hours. Here’s to the success of alchemy.”

Isabelle jumped back up onto her perch on the table, uncorked the vial and tipped it down her throat.