The Alchemist's Touch

“Damn it…”

Josselyn’s back arched as he pressed too deeply. Her body burned, too hot, as if her blood was boiling just beneath her skin.

“Killian…”

The name slipped from her lips without permission.

The man above her paused just as she felt herself about to lose control. His breath brushed the back of her neck, warm and dangerous.

“You want it,” he whispered low.

Josselyn tried to shake her head, but the support of her hands only pushed her body faster.

The potion—there was something wrong with the potion.

“Don’t stop…”

She hated herself for saying it.

Through her blurred vision, she caught a glimpse of Killian smiling faintly. Not a gentle smile. Not a smile of desire, but the smile of someone who knew he was in control.

“Look at me,” he commanded.

Killian tilted her chin back. The movement was rough and strong, forcing Josselyn’s body upright.

His gray-blue eyes pierced through the darkness, flashes of power glinting in them.

Josselyn tried to resist. Too late. The sensation hit her again, scattering her thoughts.

That night, something had happened.

And she wasn’t sure it was entirely her choice.

~

“Ugh… my head…”

Josselyn woke with a dry throat and a body that felt foreign. Too tired and sore.

Fragments of last night came in pieces. Touch. Breath. The low voice calling her name.

She sat up too quickly. The world spun.

“Already awake?”

A voice came from behind the door.

Josselyn rose from the bed, but her vision swirled. Her body swayed, nearly collapsing to the floor. At that moment, a pair of hands caught her.

“You almost fell,” the voice said briefly, steadying her shoulders.

She barely made out the figure of Yorick, the palace healer who had been teaching her medicine.

“Sorry, sir. My head … it’s a bit dizzy,” Josselyn replied.

“Are you drunk?” he asked, guiding her back to sit on the bed. “Didn’t you go straight to sleep after training last night?”

Josselyn frowned. She remembered going straight to her room after the Herbal Hall. But for a moment, a fleeting memory of a servant appeared.

“Ah,” Josselyn rolled her eyes upward, trying to recall more clearly. “A servant came last night. She said he brought a potion from you.”

Yorick stopped.

“I didn’t send anything.”

Josselyn’s heart thumped loudly. Her eyes widened in disbelief.

'If not from Yorick… then from whom?' Her thoughts started spinning.

'And why, after drinking it, does my body feel like…'

She tensed as she realized the subtle ache in her lower body.

This wasn’t a dream.

~

By afternoon, Josselyn stood in the Herbal Hall, stirring a potion slowly, trying to ignore the trembling of her hands.

Someone had given her a potion without permission. Someone had touched her. And worse, she remembered his face.

'I’m not mistaken, right? But why would he do this to me?'

Unconsciously, Josselyn stirred harder, the clink of spoon against vial ringing loudly.

“Don’t stir it so hard,” Yorick admonished, holding back her hands. “You could create foam that will affect the quality of the potion.”

Josselyn stammered, snapping out of her reverie.

“Sorry, sir.”

Yorick drew a long breath, then released his grip.

“Josselyn, today is your first audience with the Queen. You’ve been practicing this potion for two weeks. If you make a mistake, do you want them to send you back to Count Edmund’s house?” Yorick said firmly.

Josselyn’s body trembled at the mention of the name.

“I will not return to that hell.”

Her words were not exaggerated. Since rumors spread that her mother had fled a death sentence, Josselyn had lived with her uncle and aunt. But because of her parents’ disgrace, Count Edmund and his wife treated her poorly.

“Then focus. Make a fresh potion with the correct technique. I’ll go to the storeroom to get some ingredients,” Yorick instructed, leaving Josselyn alone in the Herbal Hall.

Josselyn drew a deep breath.

“Focus, Josselyn.”

She discarded the potion and retrieved a new container. Swiftly, she began mixing again, this time carefully.

“Is the potion for the Queen ready?”

The voice made her blood run cold.

Josselyn turned slowly.

Killian stood at the doorway. Tall, dark-haired, composed, as if nothing had happened last night.

“Your Highness, Crown Prince,” Josselyn bowed quickly.

The memory hit her again. Hands on her waist. Breath on her neck.

'Does he know about the potion?' she thought, suddenly anxious.

Killian stepped closer. Too close.

“You look pale,” he said coldly. “Didn’t you sleep well?”

Josselyn clenched her fists behind the table.

“I’m fine.”

Killian narrowed his eyes, piercing into her hazel-green gaze.

“Really?”

Josselyn averted her eyes, her lips moving uncertainly.

“A servant brought me a potion last night,” she finally said, meeting Killian’s eyes. “He said it was from Sir Yorick.”

The gray-blue eyes did not blink.

“And you drank it?” he asked quietly.

“Did you know something?”

Josselyn felt as if he was restraining a smile, but a trace of it escaped.

“So this is the potion for the Queen?” Killian shifted the topic, pointing to the vial on the table.

“Yes, Your Highness,” Josselyn replied. “I adjusted the temperature according to the recipe.”

Killian touched the vial, leaning slightly as if to peek inside.

“Just the temperature? Are you sure this will heal the Queen?”

Josselyn nodded quickly.

“Yes, Your Highness. This potion …” She swallowed. “… was taught to me by my late mother. I am the only one who knows this recipe.”

Killian’s faint smile almost seemed mocking.

“Only you?” His voice was low, nearly echoing in the room. “So, all the kingdom’s hope … rests on you? What if you use it for revenge instead?”

Josselyn’s jaw hardened.

“I know I’m seen as a daughter of traitors,” she said, her heart pounding.

“My mother taught me one principle of Alchemy,” she continued softly. “Not a single drop of potion may harm the one who trusts it.”

Josselyn paused, then stared into Killian’s gray-blue eyes.

“So, do you trust me?”

Killian snorted. He leaned in, his breath brushing her cheek.

“I didn’t decide to bring you to the palace.”

That answer was enough for Josselyn to understand that Killian did not fully trust her. But she didn’t care.

Her goal was to make the King believe she could heal the Queen.

“Drink it,” he ordered, sliding the vial toward her.

Josselyn’s jaw clenched.

'I will not look weak in front of this man,' she resolved.

Without hesitation, she drank it all. Her brow furrowed as bitterness coated her tongue. Her stomach churned, but she held steady.

Killian watched her.

Without warning, his hand gripped her jaw.

“Open.”

She obeyed. Not a single drop remained.

The corners of Killian’s lips lifted slightly. He leaned closer.

“Be careful with what you drink in this palace, Josselyn.”

Her heart stopped for a moment.

“You might… not wake up tomorrow.”

He released her and stepped back.

“Deliver the potion to the Queen yourself. I want to see the results.”

As he walked away, Josselyn stood stiffly.

She knew one thing now.

Killian knew.

About the potion.

About that night.

And perhaps, about her plan to come to the palace.