“I have a potentially odd request,” I hedged the next morning after breakfast, putting my cup down on the table.

  I had just finished my diluted torture juice. Alys, as always, was chugging the concentrated version directly from the jug.

  Some days, I almost regretted making that concentrated juice. ‘Almost’ would be ‘definitely’ if not for the soft smiles that fluttered over my dragoness’s features every time she drank it, even when she was tired or grouchy.

  Finally, she slammed the empty jug down and fixed me with a look. “I’m listening.”

  I cleared my throat.

  “I need some of your blood.”

  Before she could reply, I rushed on, “Now, I know how that sounds, and it’s not a very reassuring request from a fae, but —”

  I didn’t get any further before my dragoness lifted a hand over the cup I’d only recently finished using and clenched her fist. Drops of vividly scarlet blood, glistening like the most precious of gems, dripped into the cup as Alys’ eyes bored into mine.

  “You can just ask for anything you need from me. You don’t need to justify yourself,” she rumbled, low and intense.

  While the show of trust was touching, it made my left eyebrow twitch.

  “Thank you, my dragoness. However…” I glanced pointedly between her hand and the cup. “What, exactly, do you expect me to do with a contaminated blood sample?”

  The fervent look she’d been giving me was quite fetching, but the embarrassed flush that claimed her face immediately afterwards was rather nice, too.

  —

  Something as potent and precious as dragon blood, let alone the blood of my dragoness, required proper storage. Once I’d fetched an appropriate container and collected clean samples, Alys quickly made her escape to her workshop.

  For once, I watched her go with amusement rather than worry. I was glad to know her hasty retreat was motivated by her desire to escape embarrassment, rather than an obsessive need to prepare for her grandmother’s arrival… I hoped so, at least. I wasn’t going to fool myself into believing that everything was fixed on that front, but she hadn’t let her anxiety get the best of her since we talked.

  I, too, headed for my lab with some haste. I still couldn’t stop thinking about Alys’ response to the flower the day before… and the flower’s response to her.

  Alys had liked the flower so much that she’d set it down right next to the treasure chest beside her nest, as close to her hoard as she could get it without actually stuffing the plant into the box. That was close enough for the flower’s mana to continue mingling with her own. I’d been tempted to stay up and keep an eye on things, but in the end, I’d succumbed to the comfort of Alys’ winged embrace.

  I had managed to wake up a little earlier than she did. I’d used the chance to examine her, careful not to let my mana disturb her sleep. The flower hadn’t done anything overtly negative to my dragoness, as far as I could tell. In fact, when she woke up, she’d seemed more energized and in a slightly better mood than she was typically prone to in the mornings.

  Just for that, I was tempted to get her a few more of the flowers. Though ‘grumpy morning dragoness’ time was adorable, I didn’t think she enjoyed it as much as I did. But I already had the concentrated torture juice to help with that, and I trusted it a lot more than a somewhat suspicious plant.

  That’s why the blood samples I’d collected were so important. If the flower was doing something more than just energizing Alys’ mana, I needed to know what it was. The easiest way to find out was to mix the two directly.

  I had plenty of material to work with. The dragoness had given me a staggering amount of blood, apparently still feeling the need to demonstrate her unflinching willingness to trust me.

  I was going to be extra careful with securing it all. She had bled enough that anyone remotely familiar with blood magic, particularly curses, could inflict all sorts of unpleasantness upon her if they got into my supply of her blood.

  I rushed through the lab prep work almost recklessly. Only years of repetition ensured I cast everything properly. I did, however, pause the spell that kept me supplied with fresh, breathable air, then canceled and recast it. The air had smelled ever so slightly off upon the first casting, with faint sulfurous undertones that confused me. Better to be safe than sorry.

  Laying out everything I needed, which was really just the blood and the flower, I dove into my newest experiment.

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  The results were as illuminating as they were frustrating. The flower was certainly doing something to the blood. Even if I left the blood out to start drying, it was swiftly rejuvenated and ‘reactivated’ by the flower’s mana, putting it in a slight state of agitation.

  At the same time, that seemed to be the only thing the flower’s mana did. I poked and prodded it with different diagnostic spells, but the only thing I learned was exactly what had happened with the spell meant to keep the air cleaned.

  Every time I cast a spell too close to Alys’ blood, the blood got agitated. Wisps of it would transform into a vapor-like substance and then bond to my own mana. That made for some rather interesting effects in conjunction with my spells. In most cases, the strength of my spell would surge before fizzling out as the blood was consumed.

  Now, I wasn’t terribly familiar with dragon blood. In fact, I’d avoided recipes that required it. My family could get it, of course, but dragon blood was notoriously temperamental to work with. It would fight an alchemist every step of the way, no matter the recipe it was being used in. I’d always found it easier to substitute a material of equivalent potency.

  What was happening with Alys’ blood was entirely the opposite. The blood was eager to be of use in any way I saw fit. It took me conscious effort and a bit of practice to stop accidentally galvanizing it with my spells.

  The revelation made me squint at the blood suspiciously for a minute or two.

  I wasn’t blind to the most obvious cause for the difference: the willingness of everyone involved when Alys offered her blood to me. The effects of certain biological materials were known to depend on whether or not they were willingly offered.

  For example, a mandragora’s roots and leaves could be either a potent curative or a potent poison, depending on the plant’s mood at the time of its harvest. Ironically, a foul mood in the plant’s ridiculously short sentient life indicated the shift to a curative, while keeping it calm and content induced its poisonous properties. Curious that it wasn’t the other way around.

  So, the fact that Alys had offered her blood freely did carry weight. I understood that. The annoyance stemmed from my inability to control the process of our mana merging.

  Thankfully, my attempts to gain control used sufficiently small amounts of blood that I wasn’t at risk of running out. Better still, this helpful aspect of Alys’ blood was what allowed me to discover what the flower was really doing, in the end.

  The short-lived boost to my spells allowed me to catch sight of her blood as it was burned away. And while the burning took centerstage, I still noticed that the flower’s mana was attempting to refine her blood before it vanished entirely.

  A couple more stunned attempts only confirmed this. The process was slow, and miniscule in its impact on Aly’s blood. But if I could somehow find a way to encourage it properly? To boost it? Then I could bypass the need for a bloodline-improvement potion entirely!

  It was this effect of the flower’s mana that sent my thoughts drifting in a somewhat odd direction.

  The flower was refining Alys’ mana. Her mana, which was so deeply aligned to flames that they might as well be one and the same. Meanwhile, I just happened to have a particular beetle whose flames already did much the same thing…

  I shook my head to cast the idea out of it. After all, what was I going to do? Cook my dragoness in some vain attempt to improve her bloodline? The Molten Expanse would be less than amused to find I had used my beetle’s flames to slow-broil her granddaughter.

  Yet now that I was no longer so worried about the flower’s effects, I found that I couldn’t stop the idea from worming its way into my thoughts.

  It was theoretically possible. True, the deer and other wildlife I’d processed with the beetle had been dead at the time, but the underlying principle was the same: burn something, and get a reduced, more potent version of it.

  Applying that logic to a living creature would be infinitely more complicated. It would also have some humorous connotations. What if the process succeeded, but caused Alys to shrink?

  The thought had me snickering for a bit… until I realized Alys would absolutely find some way to make me regret all of my life choices up to that point.

  Even so, the base idea appealed to me. The link was undeniable. Alys, with her fire affinity. The plant, which felt like the sun itself at times. The effects of the beetle flame, which were fascinatingly unique and useful… there had to be something there.

  The possibility of a ritual, perhaps.

  If only I was more competent with that particular branch of magic! I’d studied it a little for the sake of my alchemy, since there was overlap in certain cases, but I hadn’t dedicated any serious time and effort to it.

  Yet here I was, standing in my alchemist’s laboratory, wondering if I could somehow find a ritual to bypass the need for a potion altogether.

  I had my answer a moment later, and it was surprisingly firm: no. I couldn’t bypass alchemy, nor did I wish to.

  Even if I didn’t use alchemy directly to trigger Alys’ bloodline refinement, I could still ease things along. A potion or two would diminish the discomfort of such a procedure. Helping a body replenish itself during the ritual could also avoid the previously contemplated shrinkage.

  I would still need to learn a great deal about ritual magic. The risk of shrinking was only one of a host of potential complications. I had much to figure out before I could present the idea to Alys.

  Funnily enough, I wasn’t in a hurry. We had the flower already. While relying on it alone would be a horribly wasteful and slow attempt to boost Alys’ growth, it was still a solid stand-in, especially since neither of us had any cause to fear the ravages of time. Alys’ grandmother would likely find the flower alone to be impressive enough.

  In spite of that, I felt the need to contribute. I wanted to play a pivotal role in Alys’ growth of her power and the improvement of her bloodline. That way, no one could ever doubt my dedication, both to our relationship and to Alys’ advancement.

  This had nothing to do with my desire to win her grandmother’s approval, of course. I was just… being practical.

  I groaned as I stepped back from the table, letting my eyes wander around the lab for a moment. I knew that I was only making things harder for myself. Had I stuck to my field of expertise, then the path forward would be much simpler. As it was, I now needed to apply a wholly different discipline if I wanted to achieve anything.

  So I decided I would cheat.

  After all, with enough effort put in, was there anything alchemy could not do? Plenty of people had exploded for the answer, but it was still a decisive ‘no!’