twenty-two

1597, Prague, Bohemia

Edward stepped back from his hiding spot. He needed a few moments to compose himself after realizing he was in the presence of a man far more powerful than he’d expected. Edward was normally calm under pressure, but this turned his worldview upside down: Alchemy was real, and Philippe Hayden was a true alchemist.

So that was what had called the funny little man to Bohemia. Clearly Philippe preferred solitude to company, but Prague Castle was bursting with people. Edward himself didn’t mind the stench, which seemed blissfully fresh compared to the fragrances he’d experienced while locked up in foul dungeons. And he didn’t mind the crowds. He knew he was a natural charmer. He could read people’s expressions more clearly than words and reflect their desires back to them, endearing himself to them and acquiring patronages across the land.

Yes, he claimed to be an alchemist and scryer with the ability to speak with angels. But Edward didn’t actually believe in either of those things. He simply told people what they wished to hear. After finding a small quantity of gold in a mine, he had realized he could live off that gold for a much longer period of time if he got patrons to support an alchemy lab. In his lab, he would “create” a small amount of gold for the patron, which bought him at least another year of work. And writing words that were supposedly dictated by an angel made him seem more trustworthy. People were so gullible. But now … had he been proven wrong by a dirty little Frenchman?

Edward knew he would be removed from Rudolf II’s court if he did not continue to show results. But what if he were to become a real alchemist? He stepped forward again and watched the artist at work. A plan formed in his mind for how to solve all of his problems.

The following day, Edward Kelley knocked on the door of Philippe Hayden’s rooms, confident his plan would be a success.

When the artist opened the door, Edward showed him the scroll clutched in his gloved hands. “You have been given a great honor, Monsieur Hayden. We have an audience with the Emperor.”

Philippe frowned. “I have not yet completed my latest painting.”

Edward smiled his most radiant smile. He had unusually nice teeth, and he used them to good effect. “Have I told you of my daughter? She is the light of my life.”

Philippe’s stiff stance relaxed. Good.

“Yes,” Philippe answered. “You’ve spoken of her fondly. I would be pleased to paint her portrait if given the opportunity.”

“It would be a great honor. I wish to see her again soon, and if I’m not mistaken, you wish to return to your family as well. Do I recall that you have a wife waiting for you in France?”

Philippe gave a noncommittal tilt of his head. “I should get back to work on this canvas before my paints dry.”

“I apologize for the bad timing, but we do not wish to disappoint our patron, do we?”

“He understands the artistic process more than most. A little more time—”

Edward leered at the small man as he strode up to where the artist stood at his easel. It was time to change tactics. “Did I not mention that it is not art the Emperor is interested in seeing today? Rudolf was quite interested when I conveyed the message that you would be able to give a live demonstration for how to create gold.”

The painter stood perfectly still. He was outwardly calm, but Edward could see the man’s hands shaking. “Why would you say such a thing?”

Tucking the scroll into his coat, Edward walked to the wall and tapped on the uneven stones. “When I remove a stone from this outer wall, I can see everything you do.” He shrugged. “I know your secret.”

Philippe’s eyes widened, yet he remained silent.

“I know,” Edward continued, “that you can transmute lead into gold. It is no use trying to hide the truth.”

“Why would I hide the truth?” Philippe said. “We are all alchemists, are we not?” He gave Edward a thin-lipped, defiant smile.

“Of course,” Edward replied. “So it will not be a problem for you to perform your transformations in front of me and the Emperor.”

“You know it’s not so simple.”

“Such a shame. We know what the Emperor does with people who lie to him.”

Philippe narrowed his eyes at Edward. He remained still, yet his gaze flitted toward the door.

Good. Very good. Edward smiled, knowing he’d won. Philippe was looking for a way to escape. And Edward would give him exactly that.