Alchemiya

By Katey Hawthorne

Eugenia was born to privilege in the Ratna clan, nobility famed for their alchemical jewel production. Eugenia’s a talented alchemist herself—but the patriarchy insists her less able brother is the heir to the family secrets and property. As if that weren’t insult enough, an accidentally public tryst with another woman means Genie is shunned by polite society altogether.

Enter the gorgeous Lord Oliver Plumtree, scion of one of the oldest alchemical families in Chrysopoeia and master of the foreboding Waldgrave Abbey. But Lord Oliver is actually Olivia, and on the lookout for a wife—one who requires an escape from the same crushing social mores that have forced Olivia to masquerade as her own long-dead brother to keep her family’s estate intact.

Genie and Liv seem a perfect match from the get-go, and things heat up quickly between them. But before they can carry off their marriage of convenience, Waldgrave Abbey reveals more secrets. Jealous Plumtree relatives and Liv’s association with the Secret Society of Alchemiya, rumored to be a dark and sinister arm of the patriarchy, might just ruin Genie and Liv’s chance at their unlikely happily ever after.

• Language: English
• Publisher: KV Taylor
• Release date: Oct 5, 2018
• ISBN: 9780463686935

Katey Hawthorne

Katey Hawthorne loves queer romance. Originally from the Appalachian foothills of West Virginia, she currently lives in Ohio with her family, two cats, and two huge puppies. In her spare time, she enjoys travel, comic books, B-movies, loud music, video games, Epiphones, and Bushmills. Her favorite causes include animal rescue and bisexual representation in media. She is an unashamed fangirl and collects nerdy tattoos like she’s trying to prove it.

Book preview

Alchemiya

Copyright © September 2016, October 2018 by Katey Hawthorne

All rights reserved.

Smashwords Edition

Editor: Raven McKnight

Cover Artist: Natasha Snow Designs

This e-book is a work of fiction. Any resemblance between characters, places, or events within to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

Alchemiya was originally published by Loose Id in September 2016. This new edition (2018) has a new cover and minor editorial corrections, but is otherwise the same.

Warning

This e-book contains sexually explicit scenes and adult language.

Acknowledgment

Deepest thanks to my sometimes co-authors, Carl Grant and Jenna Rose, for help, support, patience, and always listening to my TMI stories.

Alchemiya

One Year Ago

The evening at Lady Bryant’s was too dull to endure: a million perfumed Golden City society types, smelling like their own alchemical concoctions. Flower scents were still in fashion, unfortunately, and they made Eugenia Ratna sneeze. The Ratnas tended toward woodsy, more traditionally masculine scents—and though Eugenia loathed the need to gender everything, well, she couldn’t complain about sandalwood. It had come with them from Deccan, the Ratnas’ ancestral country.

She disliked being proud of her clan, considering how their adherence to tradition made her more miserable than not. But sandalwood appealed to the ladies, at least. There was Lydia Cremona giving Eugenia the eye across the crowded room. Two parties ago—or had it been three?—Lydia and Eugenia had spent a good hour behind a hall curtain, and it had certainly passed the time. Lydia was a redhead, and it was true what they said about redheads being fiery.

Eugenia preferred a challenge, but in the circumstances, she’d take what she could get. Silken skirts swishing about her ankles, she passed through the room. Past old men discussing their latest attempt at alchemical breakthrough, as if everything hadn’t already been done. Past young men waiting for the old men to die so they might inherit their clans. Past old women who were the true power behind the alchemical thrones. The young women interested her more, as they tended to be more, ah, adventurous.

Eugenia swept past Lydia last, then into the hall. Moments later, Lydia followed.

That green silk looks marvelous on you, Eugenia said. I don’t think I’ve ever seen the shade.

Mother put the idea in Father’s head—it matches my eyes, you see, Lydia said. Frivolous little thing, but pretty, with a creamy complexion and bright eyes. So he went and cooked it up.

She might’ve cooked it up herself, Eugenia said. Her own mother used to; what would Father do? Divorce her? Hardly.

Lydia tittered. Thankfully, the Cremonas went light on their scent, which was a pleasant jasmine. Lydia wandered in a faint cloud of it, but not enough to cause a violent reaction in Eugenia’s nasal passages.

Eugenia took her by the hand and led her into a conveniently open side room and then behind a set of billowing curtains.

You certainly don’t stand on ceremony, Lydia said, already breathless.

Would you like me to? Eugenia asked, already loosening Lydia’s laces in the back.

Another small laugh, then Lydia pressed her mouth to Eugenia’s, and the evening became remarkably less dull.

Just when Eugenia had Lydia’s stockings down and legs wrapped around her, there came a sudden and loud rap at the glass. Lydia’s unlaced back was pushed against it, but Eugenia, her heart in her throat, peeked up to see who dared.

Lydia’s brother, Reginald, heir to the Cremona clan, stared back at her, face even redder than his ridiculous shock of hair and half-grown beard. Livid.

Oh shit, said Eugenia.

Now

I still think it’s monstrously unfair, mumbled Eugenia’s brother, Delaney. We’ll never get Genie married if she isn’t even invited to parties.

Hang Genie! This outburst came from their younger sister, Rebekah, at the end of the table. What about me? I’m punished for her nonsense!

Eugenia sighed and set aside her napkin. Suddenly she wished she’d taken breakfast in her own rooms. Oh, it was just a little tryst. Everyone made such a stink that—

That they needed a scapegoat? Lydia Cremona had a very narrow escape, I can tell you, said Father. His dark face was made darker by the topic, as if a small black rain cloud floated just over his head, perpetually casting a shadow and threatening a storm.

A narrow escape? Eugenia huffed. In truth, she still felt a twinge for Lydia’s fate; the silly girl never would’ve been so bold if not for her. She was fobbed off on that fool of an Al-Razi! Oh, he’s gentle enough, but what a bore—and his clan and people will suffer when he inherits. He’s no more an alchemical genius than he is a tortoise.

We all know your plan. Delaney narrowed his eyes and jabbed a finger in her general direction. You mean to cause scandal until you’ve no hope of resurrecting your marriage prospects. Then you’ll hang around here plaguing me with your ideas day and night for the rest of my life.

I’m just as much an alchemist as you, you little— Eugenia began.

Enough! Father stood and whacked his rolled-up newspaper against the table. Eugenia, you will spend the day in your rooms, where you will think about the disadvantage at which you’ve put your sister—and even your brother in finding a wife who will represent this family properly. You will attend the Grand Ball—

Eugenia groaned.

Father ignored her. But that is all. And I suggest you think of some way to redeem yourself in the eyes of respectable society before you enter into it again.

When Father turned to leave, Rebekah stuck out her tongue, and Delaney put his head in his hands.

Eugenia couldn’t help feeling a little smug. If not for the dire prospect of enduring a Grand Ball, she supposed she might even have been enjoying herself that morning.

* * * *

Quiet, merry bubbling in her flasks always calmed Eugenia after unpleasantness with her family. She supposed it’d calm her after unpleasantness with anything, but her family was the main source of torment in her otherwise contented and privileged life. Her chambers were large, even expansive, for a house in the Golden City—shining, bustling capital of Chrysopoeia. She had her bedchamber with its flowery tapestry and four-poster, decorated by her dearly departed mother for Eugenia’s sixteenth birthday. Mother died only the year after, and so, although Eugenia’s tastes had changed since, she’d never been able to change the room. Off that, her privy chamber with the most modern of conveniences, and her dressing room.

Unlike Rebekah’s, Eugenia’s dressing room was primarily her own domain, since she only borrowed Rebekah’s maid, Danessa, on the direst of occasions. Today, Eugenia wore a plain shirt and a pair of Delaney’s old trousers she’d tailored to fit herself, beneath a protective apron. Her personal sitting room, with its high, coffered ceiling, fine woodwork, and imported rugs, was all a lady’s parlor ought to be…if not for the alchemical gear that dominated from the eastern corner. She wasn’t allowed the family cauldron, of course, which must be kept in the official Ratna laboratory for Father’s capable and Delaney’s muddle-headed use, as tradition dictated. For all that, her own collection of glassware consisted of tubes, beakers, flasks, stirrers, and assorted necessaries to rival any of the great clans’. Her burners were of the new gas, her personal cauldron ancient and well-tempered, and her work goggles adjusted for the slight astigmatism Eugenia was publicly forced to pretend didn’t exist, lest it put off potential suitors by hiding her doll-like eyes.

Also, the goggles were purple. Because Eugenia had a fondness for purple and they were her goggles.

Though the far wall displayed an admirable collection of alchemical texts—a testament to the final resting place of Eugenia’s adolescent pin money—it was sorely lacking. The Ratna recipes remained locked in a vault in Father’s laboratory. While the whole clan was entitled to see the laboratory, the vault was off-limits to all but the heirs.

Father was, in Eugenia’s well-informed opinion, very competent, but his inspiration had passed with Mother. The Ratna claim to alchemical fame was in jewels. The small rubies and diamonds produced by their cauldron were indistinguishable from those found in nature and had been shown superior, even, in technical matters. Horologists clamored for them as pivots in increasingly complicated works—indeed, the Ratnas were considered the patron alchemists of all clockwork craftsmen near and far.

Innovation happened almost daily in the workshops of these craftsmen. But not in the Ratna laboratory meant to supply and support them. Eugenia was resolved to manage it, though, with or without the family recipes or cauldron.

Or, at least, to manage something worthwhile in her life. Something alchemically worthwhile, that was. She had nothing against those who thought marriage and family were a fine life’s work. Indeed, her own mother and father were among those, and she respected them both greatly. Even Rebekah, in her desire for husband and home, was sincere and true, no matter how socially acceptable. Though Eugenia would kick against social mores, in her heart she knew the practices they prescribed were not unworthy in and of themselves, only in the absoluteness of their application.

But Eugenia had no calling in that direction. Independent entirely of her antipathy toward men in general, she had no feeling for