Sam dreamt of Elexander that night.

He told himself it was just because he had met the boy that day and he could talk the hind legs of a donkey, so of course Sam would remember him. Of course he would be thinking about the smile that was always on his face.

It was preferable to the scowl that was fixed to Prince Lefrich’s. Sam wondered if his face really looked as pinched as that. He hoped not.

Beatrice had been in the dream too. She had been standing there behind Elexander. It wasn’t really Beatrice – this Beatrice was still a child with stringy, brown hair and a runny nose and holes in her stockings. She would be a young lady now. A young lady working at the palace.

The dream had been nonsensical. It had been a jumble of images and words and Sam couldn’t fix it back together in his head when he woke up. Beatrice stuck in his mind though. The last time he had seen her had been the day he left the orphanage. The night before his mother had sat by him and stared into the fire with him. She had ruffled his hair and told him that he was “getting so big now.”

At the time, he had been happy to hear it. He wanted to be big. But there had been something on his mother’s face that didn’t match up to her tone.

“Soon, you won’t be able to fit in your bed,” she had continued.

Sam remembered that he hadn’t cared. He had stood up proudly and declared, “Then I’ll sleep on the floor with Scoundrel and Beatrice can have my bed.”

He had received a small laugh at that. His mother had taken his hands, pulled him to face her and explained that there were too many mouths to feed. That the older children – the children his age – were leaving soon. They had to find work and provide for themselves. It would make room for the younger children.

And a wonderful opportunity had come up. The alchemist was looking for an apprentice.

She had wanted Sam to have that wonderful opportunity. He would learn how to protect people.

It was only down the road, she had told him. Just at the end of the lane. He’d be able to visit everyday if he wanted.

He hadn’t wanted. He had wanted to stay. He remembered crying himself to sleep by the fireplace, his head resting on Scoundrel – their old mutt.

Beatrice had been there when he had woken up.

“I stopped anyone from bothering you,” she had said. Then she had thumped her way across the room and scratched behind Scoundrel’s bristly ears. “Aren’t you going to thank me?”

Sam had stuck his tongue out and she had laughed. It hadn’t always been that way. He had started off scared of her.

He blamed her for his sarcasm now.

Between her and Coursi, he had never stood a chance. His tongue moved on its own to deal quips out. That’s what had happened yesterday. That was why the Prince glared at him.

Elexander had seemed amused though. Those brown eyes of his had sparkled.

They stuck in Sam’s mind, wiping the memories of Beatrice away. Sparkling brown eyes. He could find constellations in those sparkles.

Sam’s face was warm. It felt like it was burning.

He stumbled out of bed and ducked his face into his wash basin. Elexander had to be a fae. To have this much control over him, he had to be a fae.

Maybe that was why Lefrich wanted to end the war – because his knight was a fae. It made sense, Sam supposed.

He hooked his foot around the clothes on the floor, flinging his tunic into the air before he caught it and struggled into it.

It was still the early hours of the morning. The sky was stained with pink from the dawn, like fingers stained red from eating berries. Sam took the opportunity to slip from the house and to the orphanage down the road. Wooden charms covered the gate like a small pox. It was too early to open it, he climbed over instead.

The door creaked if you pushed it open too far, so he slipped in a tiny gap and padded across the wooden floor to the kitchen. Scoundrel looked up as he passed. When he saw it was only Sam, he put his head back on his paws.

His mother was in the kitchen, standing in front of the fireplace. There was a huge pot on it of bubbling porridge. Sam missed that porridge. He missed a hot meal in the mornings – Coursi didn’t care for it and he didn’t have the heart to make it just for himself.

He was silent as he crossed the room to her and she jumped when he put his arms around her waist. She shrieked, then when she saw who it was, tapped him on the head with her wooden spoon.

“Mr Lovett – don’t you know it’s rude to sneak up on a woman like that?” she asked, but she was smiling. Her cheeks were flushed. Red. The same colour as her hair. Sam had always loved that his hair came from her.

“Since when was I Mr Lovett?”

“Since you started looking like a young man.” She cupped his face for a moment, her face glowing the heat from the fire. Sam smiled at her. He liked being a young man – he liked feeling like he was ready to take on the world. But leaving his home had made him wish to be a little boy again. He wanted to say that he was too young to go.

Maybe that was why he sat down and told her everything. It was always hard to tell whether his mother was paying attention; she kept stirring the pot and tasting it whenever she added honey or milk. When he finally finished, his mother smiled and handed him a bowl.

“It sounds like a wonderful opportunity.” Her voice was strangely blank. Cautious, Sam supposed, in case it wasn’t what he wanted to hear. But also that strange mix of proud and excited for him, but sad to see him go.

“It’ll be miserable going with him.”

“You used to be able to make friends with anyone.” She was fussing with the back of his hair. It was too long, he knew, but he kept forgetting to cut it. “What happened to that happy little boy?”

“You sent him away to live with a hermit.”

“And now you know a Prince.”

Sam paused, staring into the flames. He’d often sit and watch the fireplace whilst his mother was cooking. He got up the courage to ask, “Do you think it can be done? A peace treaty with the faes?”

His mother sighed. She stepped back around him, crouching to look him in the eye.

“That doesn’t matter to me. What matters is you coming back safe and sound, understand?”

“Life would be easier, wouldn’t it?”

She wasn’t looking at him, she was looking at the floor so that he couldn’t see the usual glint she had in her eye. Her face was set and suddenly the firelight created too many shadows across her face. “It would not be a life many would choose.”

“What do you mean?”

The smile was back. His mother stood and ruffled his hair a final time before saying, “I don’t want to give you any more ideas to annoy the Prince with. You should get going, before you’re too late.”

Now that he looked, the sun was climbing in the sky. With a kiss of his mother’s cheek and a final mouthful of porridge, he was half-running back across the road. His heart sunk when he saw the two horses sat in Coursi’s front garden.

When he burst through the front door he had to supress a groan. The Prince was already there, sat back in the three-legged chair, looking bored. Elexander was there too – staring with longing at the trinkets on Coursi’s desk. He wasn’t sure why that made his stomach leap like he was nervous.

“You’re late.” The Prince’s cold blue eyes flicked up to him.

“I have my reasons.” He hoped that sounded believable.

“You’re just in time.” Coursi’s accented voice came from the desk. He stood from behind it, brushing ash onto the floor. It made Sam wince – he could see the sprinkle of black on the wooden floor. “I wanted to demonstrate to the Prince what we were trying to achieve yesterday. It would be a good assurance that you are up for the task.”

He would rather not be up to the task. But this meant showing Coursi that he had been right yesterday. This meant showing Coursi that he was an alchemist – a good alchemist – an alchemist worthy of doing more than household chores. This was his chance to be more than a menial servant.

So he couldn’t pass this up.

Coursi had found his one weakness.

Sam stepped up to the desk. His mind went blank as he stared at the nine symbols carved into the desk before him. What was he thinking? He couldn’t do alchemy. Not alchemy this complicated –

His body moved for him. His fingers found salt, mercury and sulphur, forming them into a pyramid with a piece of card just as he had seen Coursi do so many times. He picked one of the wilting daisies from the pile on the edge of the desk. Its yellow face stared up at him gamely as he lay it on the pile.

That was when he hesitated. He turned the wooden disc of astrological signs around. Coursi had told him Saturn. A feeling in Sam’s gut told him Mars. But surely Coursi was right – he was the alchemist, he knew more. Then again, what did it even matter? There was no possible way Sam would be able to do this successfully.

Half of alchemy was confidence. Sam was not confident.

So what was the worst that could happen? If it didn’t work, then it didn’t work. No one was expecting it to. He slid the board around to Mars. And Aires – it was the process that broke a material down by heat.

Now he saw where he had gone wrong. Heat and mars would no doubt cause a fire.

His fingers spun the wheel without him thinking too hard. He didn’t want to break the daisy down, he wanted to smith it. The wheel stopped on Saggitarius. Incineration.

There would only be another fire if he failed.

Sam lit a match, drew the symbol in the air and prayed to any celestial above him that the process would work. Not for me, he asked, for Coursi - so that I don’t embarrass him.

There was a small kettle of water on the side and he poured it onto the burning mound of materials. He kept his eyes closed – he didn’t want to know what had happened. Didn’t want to know the outcome of his misadventure.

But there was a gasp.

So he cracked open his eyes and found his heart leaping into his mouth. It had worked. Sat on the table in front of him was a small iron link. It had worked! He had done it – he had done alchemy! He knew he was grinning as he stared down at the piece of iron. There was still the green imprint of the daisy stem running along it.

And he knew that it had been Elexander who gasped when he looked up and found him right in front of the alchemy table. His eyes twinkled as he met Sam’s gaze – and he gave the quickest of winks that made his jumping heart pause.

“Brings a new meaning to daisy chains, I suppose,” Prince Lefrich was leaning against the table too, though with his back to it. He glanced over his shoulder as he spoke and flicked his blonde hair as he turned away again.

“You would be hard pressed to find another alchemist who could do such a perfect transformation on the first try.” Coursi placed a hand on Sam’s shoulder. He was smiling at him, with a twinkle in his dark eyes that made Sam’s heart swell in his chest. Suddenly he couldn’t look up.

“Fine. You can come with us.” Lefrich sounded annoyed. He glanced out of the still open door. “We’d better get moving, before it gets dark.”

“Now?”

“Before it gets dark,” Lefrich repeated.

“Sam will be out shortly,” Coursi said. His hand squeezed Sam’s shoulder.

Lefrich glanced at Elexander, who shrugged. They headed from Coursi’s home and into the warm afternoon. Sam’s heart was still racing. He was leaving. He was leaving Pondscombe. And he had no idea when he would be back. If he would be back.

“I have some things I want to give you before you leave.”

“Do I have to?”

Coursi smiled. He started rummaging through the desk.

“You don’t want to spend time with people your own age?”

“Again; do I have to?”

There was that same smile as Coursi stood. “It’s good for you.” There was a glint in his eye as he beckoned him closer. "You'll need these," he handed Sam three leather pouches – one for salt, one sulphur and one mercury. "And this-" Coursi pulled a thick, wooden disc out from under his desk. It was roughly hewn, but was a smaller copy of his desk - the planets in the middle, with the star signs able to rotate around them.

"It's wonderful," Sam breathed as he took it. He had never seen anything like this. Coursi handed him more supplies – a box of matches, vials of water, rarer metals and minerals. All would be vital for his work. It seemed heavy, as if Coursi was placing them on his shoulders instead of in his hands.

"Remember that your surroundings are you main materials," he said, as Sam pushed everything into his bag, until it was bulging at the seams. Then Coursi pulled out the best of all.

A small, leather-bound book full of his own notes and instructions.

"You'd better study it quickly," he said. "Don't let the Prince know that you have no idea what you're doing."

"Are you sure you can’t go?" Sam asked. It was his final attempt, because there was a hard lump in his throat. He didn’t want to leave his home. He didn’t want to leave his mother and Coursi. He’d even miss Albert.

Coursi shrugged. "The stars say it must be you,” he said, ominously. Then, slightly less ominously, “have fun with your new friends.”

Sam scowled. “Don’t burn the house down whilst I’m gone.”

He walked out with that. He had wanted a hug. A hug so tight that he wouldn’t have been able to breathe. But that wasn’t Coursi’s style. So instead, he swallowed down the lump in his throat, took a deep breath and stepped out of his home.

The Prince and Elexander were outside, with their two magnificent horses. They had found a donkey and it was staring bashfully at the two steeds next to it.

“Ready?” Lefrich asked.

Sam didn’t trust his voice. He nodded instead.

Elexander swung onto his horse effortlessly, looking as though he was born to be in the saddle and Lefrich followed suit.

“You can ride, can’t you?” Lefrich asked, with a smirk and a raised eyebrow.

He couldn’t. But it couldn’t be that hard. He nodded, trying to imitate the motion. But as he tried, the donkey reared it’s head and brayed. That was when instinct betrayed him and he backed away from the animal as quickly as he could.

Lefrich sighed, rolling his eyes. He gave Elexander a look and he slid from the horse. He was still smiling at Sam as he tied the donkey to his horse’s reigns. He gave the donkey a scratch behind its ears and, amazingly, it calmed enough for Sam to slide onto it.

He didn’t say a word as the horses started forward. His face was burning. The first thing – the first thing he had to do and he had failed.

They were stayed at as they headed down the path from Pondscombe. People did not bother to hide their stares. Sam kept his head down.

Pondscombe was surrounded by a thick forest and it provided cold shade as they passed underneath the leaves. It was still light, but even so, there was an uneasiness in Sam’s stomach. This was the forest that amber eyes appeared in whenever it got dark. Children had gone missing when they had walked into here. Others had ran to the door of his mother’s orphanage and pounded on the door in the middle of the night. They had clung to her skirts until the dawn. His fear made him stop sulking.