by Lisa Daniels
“Uh, sure,” Kelsey said, definitely unused to someone requesting something of her, rather than ordering her to do it. Even her own parents didn’t request. They expected her to do things around the shop.
“Do you feel any different than the person you were before?”
“No,” Kelsey answered, after deliberating over the notion for a moment. “I’m still the same person as before on some level. But I have… more knowledge. So I think I’m able to better say what was wrong for me.” Her words sounded pretty, but there was a deep, unstable fear that she was exactly the same as before. One wrong word, and she’d crash back into a wreck.
In a way, she also knew she was trying hard to please her current masters. Which left a kind of sour taste in her mouth. They wanted boldness, so that was what she tried to strive for. However…
That boldness benefited her, too.
“That makes sense.” Perran gave her a small smile. “A part of me still feels like a ten-year-old boy. Just with more memories and experience piled on top. More certain of what I should be doing, but I suppose there’s always a little doubt.”
“You? Doubt?” Kelsey laughed in spite of herself. “Forgive me, but I find that hard to believe. You always seem so purposeful. So determined and sure what you want to do. You, I have heard it said, like to dedicate yourself to people like me. People who...” A lump formed in her throat. “People who act like the battle is already lost.”
Perran stopped walking abruptly, almost causing her to lose balance. His arm turned from a pleasant hold to a vice grip. “It’s true,” he said, though he didn’t move, and there was an unfathomable expression upon his face. “But do you know why? Have you heard why?”
Licking her lips nervously, and instantly regretting the action, because the cold air sliced deeper onto her lips as a result, she debated whether or not to admit she knew something about the sister he once loved.
Of course, what she knew would be nothing compared to hearing it from his own mouth. The question remained whether it was her right to ask. And the thought of asking him this sent a real shiver inside, the kind that locked up her throat and made the words refuse to come out. She struggled with spitting something out for too long, because he said, “Sorry for putting the pressure on.”
It was the disappointment in his voice that managed to break her words free. “I have heard… small things about a sister you had.” How could these words be so annoying to say? Each one felt scraped out of her.
“I think everyone does, sooner or later,” Perran said. “And not all of them get it right. They make their clever guesses. They think they see the weight of sorrow crushing my every movement.”
“And… it doesn’t?” Kelsey wished they could start moving again. The cold bit worse and worse into her, until she found it hard to focus on anything else but the cold.
“Some of it is sorrow,” he admitted. “Most of it is guilt. And a part I’d rather not admit to the general public is that there’s anger, too.”
Thankfully, they started moving again, though the arm contact felt less relaxing than before. “Anger, M—Perran?” She’d almost said Master Rus again. Hard to break a habit of a lifetime.
“My sister should have known better. She was meant to be the smart one. And she had a beautiful, beautiful dragon form—silvery, with an almost gold tinge to her wings. Brown feathers that reflected light in just the right way, making them more of a coppery gold. And I’m sure you know how big, how fierce, a dragon can be.” He stared at her, and she swallowed, nodding.
She’d never forget how Perran had shifted into that gray, sturdy dragon. His long, twisting neck, the glint of hatred in his eyes, and the sharp teeth, bigger than the bones underneath her skin. A creature who, with one tail whip, could probably kill a human. One flick of a nail, even.
He seemed to wait for her to say something. When she didn’t, he continued with, “She had all the physical tools to defend herself. But she still let herself be taken in by his lies. She still let herself be abused and beaten down by him. And when I gave her the chance to escape—she refused it. She made the choice to die rather than admit that he wasn’t the man she thought he was. Him and his twisted needs, instead of her and her safety.” His arm tightened around Kelsey’s in an almost painful grip. Her heart pounded at his anger, his frustration. His confusion as to why anyone would deliberately make the wrong choice.
And she thought she understood in that moment just why he struggled so much with the concept. Why he’d worn a look of disgust on his face not long after he got her out of the situation with Lord Feylen, despite the kindness of his act.
Of course, she might be completely wrong, but… “Mental abuse isn’t something people take as seriously,” Kelsey said. “I hear you talk, forgive me for saying this, about how she should have been able to defend herself, but the place that needs the biggest defense is the mind. You—you get into someone’s head, it doesn’t matter how strong you are, Perran. You get into someone’s soul, you make them believe they have no choice, no other options, and they don’t look for them, because they just can’t see them. All they see is...” Her breathing picked up, and her voice wobbled more than once, because she didn’t want to touch on the emotions, didn’t want to take herself back there. “All they see is darkness, Perran. And one—one ray of light isn’t enough to rid that kind of...” She stopped, unable to say anymore.
He regarded her for a long moment, the anger fading from his face, replacing itself with yet another expression she couldn’t understand. She’d learned to read Lord Feylen’s moods in his face. But she didn’t quite know all of Perran’s moods. Because she didn’t feel a need to defend herself from him, to watch the danger signs so she knew when to scuttle, when to grovel, when to hide.
“Are you telling me that you still feel that deep inside?” His bottom lip disappeared into his mouth. “This… darkness?”
She huffed out air through her nose. She’d been intending to change the subject, but the sincerity of the question made her pause again. He truly wanted to know. And she couldn’t be so cruel as to deny him the truth.
“I worry it’s still there. Just… buried thinly underneath. It’s still fresh in my mind. I’ve only been out of it for over a month. But I also think maybe I had an advantage compared to your sister.” She gave him a thin smile. “My life was stable. My parents were good people in their own way. I never starved, or felt loss, or truly knew about how cruel people could be. It was when I entered Lord Feylen’s household that the reality hit. But I could also still find moments to myself, because he had plenty of other servants to target, too. I wasn’t under constant abuse. But your sister… Serpent Isle was her home as well, right?”
“Right,” he said, after spending entirely too long staring at her raptly. “Right, yes. It was.”
“Her world… it changed. Perhaps she felt lost, even with you there. And I’m sure her abuser was perfectly nice to her when they first met. He probably was the perfect gentleman. She had these good memories of him, the knowledge that he could be a kind and caring person. So when… it got worse… she’d always tell herself that it wouldn’t last. They could go back to how it was before.”
Every word applied to Kelsey as well, and she knew it. Perran clung to each one, looking as if his entire mind had been tipped upside down.
Perhaps it had. He likely never thought about it from the perspective of his sister before. Always angry that she didn’t save herself. Kelsey got where he was coming from, but she didn’t think his attitude was completely fair to his sister, either. Because he’d never been in that situation himself, and probably could never imagine being in it. He was just too certain of himself.
If someone had enough doubts and fears, and another person took advantage of that…
“I still think she should have done more for herself,” he replied shortly, almost stubbornly. “It doesn’t matter how much someone brings you down. It’s your fault if you let them.”
Her cheeks colored.
“You’re wrong on that, I think.”
“No one has any power over you if you don’t let them, Kelsey,” he said. “No one. Their words are nothing without you reacting to them.”
“Not everyone realizes they have a choice, Perran.” Her voice came out as cold as the air around them. She surprised herself with the venom behind her statement. Old Kelsey… she’d never even dare.
“It is still a choice, nonetheless. Whether you free yourself—or refuse to see another way out.”
“So it’s the victim’s fault, now?” she said, her voice rising. She wrenched her arm out of his at last. “The victim, the one being abused—they’re the ones who have it wrong? Not the abuser?”
“I never said that,” he replied quietly, calmly, which caused her to deflate slightly, and the crimson to creep further along her cheeks. She wanted to stammer an apology, but he added, “The abuser is at fault, of course. But the victim makes it easier for the abuser to get a hold. And their problem is that they don’t realize that all along, the door was open.” His mouth drooped in a frown. “Maybe we should agree to disagree on this. But Kelsey—I do… I appreciate what you said. Okay?”
“We argued,” she replied, rather helplessly. “I raised my voice.”
“You’re allowed to get angry. So am I. It’s a thing. People get angry.” He gave a quick smile, though there was no warmth behind it. “Okay. We’re here.” He pointed at a small, wood cabin, and Kelsey’s attention was momentarily captivated by the flickering blue electricity licking the roof.
Outside the dark, wooden cabin, trying not to flinch from the unexpected sparks of electricity, Kelsey turned to face Perran, who still wore that frown. “Did I anger you, Perran?”
“No. I angered myself. Don’t worry about it.” He kept his gaze averted from her, however, which made her think he wasn’t entirely telling the truth. He knocked on the door, and a moment later, a woman answered it. One who quite noticeably had one part of her face paralyzed, for when she greeted them, the muscles upon the left side refused to move.
“About time you got here. I was wondering if you went down with the last storm,” the woman said. The woman whose name Kelsey still didn’t know, come to think of it. Or had Perran told her and she’d just simply forgotten? Not wanting to seem rude, she hoped someone would mention the name in time.
“Oh, you know me. Takes more than a storm to sink a dragon.”
“Hmph.” The storm witch gave a peculiar half-smile. “Well. Remind me of her name.”
“Kelsey,” Kelsey said. She didn’t need Perran to say it for her.
“I’m Lissa,” the witch said. “And if you’re wondering about what happened to my face—let’s just say I know what can happen if you don’t have control of your storm powers.”
Kelsey gave a nervous gulp. Her experiments trying to access her powers suddenly seemed much more foolhardy in that moment. “W-when did it happen?”
“Not too long after Serpent Isle’s fall,” Lissa replied. “I was quite young to be accessing my powers. And I was also in a very bad emotional state at the time. That doesn’t mix well. Now, come, come in. You can leave now,” she added, glaring at Perran. Which suggested maybe they hadn’t left on quite so amiable terms as Perran underplayed.
“I’ll collect you at the end of the month,” Perran promised her. “And I’ll visit as often as I can. It’s going to be a long chase with the fugitive. Far too many hiding places for the target to hide in, even with our informants.” He lightly grasped Kelsey’s hand and lifted it to his face, giving a closed-mouth kiss upon her knuckles. Her stomach flipped, and her nostrils flared from the unexpected contact. They might not have agreed or settled matters from their previous discussion, but he was trying to convey to her no hard feelings.
He swept away, leaving Kelsey watching him until he slipped out of sight.
“Let’s get you in and make some tea, shall we, dear?” Lissa placed a thick hand on Kelsey’s back, leading her inside the little cabin.
The cabin’s space was well managed. There was a single bed in one corner, and blankets draped over the couch, where Kelsey knew she’d be spending her time. Better than the floor. Though she would have accepted if that was her only option. The kitchen area was small. The thing that intrigued Kelsey the most was all the flimsy metal wirings decorating the higher parts, leading to strange orbs that were lit with a yellowish tinge. She was more used to white orblight and the softness of candlelight.
“Electricity,” Lissa said. “Not many prefer it, because candles and light witches are far more convenient, and generally safer. But you use what you’ve got.” She busied herself with her stove, and Kelsey noticed that the stove seemed to operate with electricity as well. Instead of flames, it was a type of plate that heated up. It reminded her of stone-baking in the summer.
With tea served, Kelsey tried to pretend that she didn’t find Lissa’s unerring scrutiny disturbing and slightly off-putting.
“Okay, so tell me, how long ago did you discover your magic?”
“Over a month ago. Month and a half, maybe.”
“Storms,” Lissa said. “That’s far too long. You must have been seriously repressing it.”
Or seriously repressed, Kelsey thought. She quirked a smile on her face. “I never had chances to really get to know myself. And I came from a house where controlling my emotions was… best for my survival.”
“Ah.” Lissa’s face hardened. “I see why you’re with him, now. He does go for people who suffered like his sister did. Well, you seem to be relatively healthy if you’re here now.” She reached out a hand towards Kelsey. “Grasp me firmly. I’m going to probe you with my magic.”
That sounded awfully ominous to Kelsey, but she did as asked anyway, hoping this probing wouldn’t result in something painful. And something she’d very rapidly regret. When they touched hands, skin to skin, she was instructed to close her eyes, and feel what the storm witch was doing to her.
At first, there was nothing but the awkwardness of their contact. The hard chair she sat in, the minty steam from her tea drifting into her nostrils, and distracted thoughts moving back to Perran, because she honestly wanted to keep talking to him about his belief system. His conviction that his sister should have done more. She didn’t want there to be such a long pause—she knew how words and feelings got lost over time.
Something tickled her arm. She opened her eyes slightly to see blue electricity flickering over her, and almost jerked her arm away on the spot. Lissa sensed the tension in her grip, because she said, “Don’t move. Eyes closed.”
Reluctantly, Kelsey closed her eyes again, grimacing as the tickling sensation spread. It went to her shoulder, across her chest, and soon targeted her extremities, making her feel as though her entire body was bathed in flames, but without the heat usually associated with them, or the smoke.
“It should feel good, if you’re in touch with your powers. If you’re not, you’ll get an overwhelming urge to scratch yourself,” Lissa said.
“Yes… I….” Her other hand started scratching, but nowhere she touched felt relieved. “Can you stop this?”
“No. I’ll keep doing this until you learn to relax and accept the sensation. When it becomes less of an under-skin nightmare, and more like it’s a natural part of you.”
Kelsey let out an irritated hiss from between her teeth as the itching got worse and worse. Eventually, she yelped and broke hand contact completely, rubbing herself vigorously. “That’s horrible! Isn’t there a better way to do this?”
“There’s more painful ways,” Lissa said, giving her an almost contemptuous expression. “But of course, if you don’t want to learn...”
Taking a deep breath, Kelsey stared at the storm witch. “I want to learn.”
“Then show me that you mean it.” Lissa held out her hand again, with the half of her face that worked displayed a smug smile.
Kelsey had a sneaking suspicion she was going to grow to hate the training before long.
* * *
Slowly, excruciatingly, they made progress over the next two weeks. Kelsey enjoyed none of it, and by day three, wanted to just bolt out the hut and fling herself off the edge. The tickling became torture, and she slept restlessly, constantly reaching to scratch herself, even though the effect was long over. By the fourth day, though, exhausted and pissed off, she managed to convert the feeling from tickling to a dull buzz.
And then to a feeling like floating in water, like she was drifting away with a warm sun above her in the public baths.
As if the electricity was as normal as breathing. From there, she progressed to manipulating Lissa’s energy as instructed, to be able to taste when a storm was coming—and when a storm came, to harness the lightning.
Which had to be the scariest part of the whole training, because that involved letting herself get struck by lightning and embracing the impact, like she’d been doing with Lissa’s powers.
Upon the two-week mark, a rather haggard and red eyed Perran dropped in to visit them, apologizing for the long break.
“We’ve explored about half the islands now, and apprehended a few other petty criminals. Just not the criminal we actually want. How’s the training going?”
Kelsey didn’t answer, too busy absorbing the sight of him and realizing how much she’d missed regular human contact with more than one person. Lissa certainly provided stimulating company, but not the fun kind. Kelsey missed his smile, his manner around her. She wanted to see more of it. However, he seemed ready to drop dead upon his feet.
“She’s doing well. Already harnessing lightning. I’m not letting her use her own electricity yet,” Lissa said. “More focusing on her ability to manipulate sources of energies that already exist. I’ve found it by far to be the safest way to do it.”
Although Kelsey trusted the storm witch enough to know what she was doing, a part of her still wanted to be able to use the magic within herself, rather than borrow someone else’s powers, or stand there and hope she didn’t mess up and get electrocuted by raw, natural lightning.
