Page 92 of The Alchemists

Chant was quiet for a moment. “I have, yes.”

He didn’t wear a ring, had never mentioned a partner. She stayed silent, too mortified to speak.

“I was in a long relationship—seven years—before I took the posting at Windermere. We were engaged, as a matter of fact.”

“What happened? If you don’t mind.”

“I took the posting at Windermere.” He laughed sadly. “That’s only part of it, of course. They don’t tell you, when you’re young and in love, how much you’re going to change. That every day you’re becoming different people, without even knowing it.”

Lily believed it. How much had her life changed since September?

“And the thing about relationships is that, especially when you’re young, the person you fall in love with might not still be the person you fell in love with, once you start to figure out who you are. You might not still be the person they fell in love with.”

“That seems impossible.”

“It is, mostly.” He chuckled. “But change is good. Growth is good. The key, I believe, is learning how to grow together and to start sooner rather than later. It’s important to be fluid, malleable.”

“Like Prima Materia?”

She was joking, but Chant responded earnestly. “Relationships are their own sort of alchemy, I think. They require a similar process—purifying, refining, dissolving of two seemingly disparate entities, until you find a center that can hold.”

“You’re very wise, for a professor without tenure.” Lily pointed at her house. “That one, with the mixed siding.”

Chant laughed for real then as he pulled to a stop. “Well, we do learn best from our mistakes.”

Lily shifted the plate of cookies on her lap as she finagled the door handle and her bag.

“Thanks for the ride.”

“Lily,” he said, making her pause. “As a rule, I don’t involve myself in the affairs of students, and I’m crossing every line here, but…” He pressed his lips together as he searched for the words. “What you and Sebastian have is a rare thing, a good thing. There is a chord in both of you that resonates. I can see it in your work together.”

“Oh. Thank you.”

“I think you have it in you to grow beautifully together. Just remember to embrace the change whenever it happens, and you’ll have a fine future.”

A fine future. She didn’t know what to say to that. She really wished it could be true.

“Anyway, happy Christmas.”

Vaguely, she nodded, wished it back, watching his taillights fade down the street.

SEB

Conrad was sitting on the hood of his car. He stopped, suitcase in hand, and regarded his former lover. They stared at each other for a long, silent moment—Seb because he was desperately trying to use the few tools he’d acquired in therapy to stop himself from murdering Conrad right there, and Conrad because he was too busy smirking. He closed his eyes and let himself picture all of Conrad’s very straight teeth and a lot of his blood spattered over the windshield. Imagined murder was decidedly not one of the coping mechanisms that he’d discussed with Dr. Metcalf, but it managed to uproot him from where he was growing into the asphalt.

“Get off my car,” he said evenly.

“Heard your charity case had a rough afternoon.”

Without his consent, his hand released his suitcase with a clatter and lunged forward, grabbing Conrad by his scarf and dragging him off the car. Conrad grinned, even as he hit the ground.

“Ooh, touched a nerve? What are you going to do, Sebastian? Murder me?” In the lamplight his eyes were violet, but the smile on his lips never reached them. “She’s really worth getting expelled over?”

Seb released him, tossing him backward into the headlights. They cast all sorts of horrible shadows around Conrad’s body.

“You two must have thought you were so clever, breaking those wards. It’d be a shame to get eliminated from the running because you felt the need to prove some sort of chivalrous bullshit.”

This is what he wants. He stepped back, his breath slipping toward a normal rhythm. Crossing his arms over his chest, he tilted his head and regarded Conrad.