Six Isles' Witches and Dragons Box Set
Author: Lisa Daniels
Date: 2019-04-08 04:00:00+00:00

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Table of Contents

The Dragon’s Life Witch

The Dragon’s Air Witch

The Dragon’s Storm Witch

The Dragon’s Ink Witch

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The Dragon’s Life Witch

Six Isles’ Witches and Dragons

Book 1

Prologue – Serpent Isle’s Fall

Meridas watched his home die. He was only nine years old, and his little sister, Vash, clung to him, silent and weeping, as they watched the island topple out of the sky. Other children spectated as well, with their parents, all of them standing together in a last vigil of the place that had been their home.

The skyship that transported them attempted to follow the falling island. The crew members yelled at each other, sails were adjusted, and the air witches manipulated the winds so that they descended with the island—though not as fast.

Mother was on that island. Mother didn’t have dragon magic, like Meridas and Vash and his father. She’d insisted on staying on the island, trying to heal the disease that infected the core. Even though all the other witches who had tried, died.

Nobody expected the island to fall so soon. They thought they had hours. Hours and hours. Vash continued to wail, and their father stood as still as stone, fists clenched, his bearded jaw taut as they followed the island to the ground. A muffled sound, like a distant thunderclap, tore through the air, and dust and debris rose from where the island collided into the ground. The streets beneath were crushed. Buildings gone in an instant.

Other dragon children on the ship began sobbing as well—some of them had relatives still on the island. Not everyone had the power to shift into dragons, even though their island had been known as the Serpent Isle. Home to most of their people, and father said it’d been for generations.

“Father,” Meridas said, unable to keep the fear out of his voice. “Is mother…?” He thought of his mother now, with her wavy black hair, and her long eyelashes and warm brown eyes. How happy she’d been with his father, even if he did hear them shouting at one another every now and then.

“Yes,” his father said, gruff. Tears welled in his father’s eyes, but they never spilled.

The airship eventually drew to a halt just above the ruined island. Buildings had crumbled from the fall, ornaments had smashed—Meridas could see the strange, bent-in architecture from their floating height.

They called the thing that killed their home the Creeping Rot. They said it hadn’t been heard of in centuries. Now it had come back, and the first thing it did was to destroy Serpent Isle, and ruin thousands of lives, above and below.

The Creeping Rot.

His face hardened, and his little fists imitated the clenching of his father’s. No one knew what to do—they all panicked and pretended everything was okay until it wasn’t. Everyone felt so helpless. He hated it.

He’d do something. His eyes briefly met with a young girl’s. Natalie. Her eyes were hard and icy. Her father had been on the island. Refusing to leave. They shared a moment of conviction between them.

He’d find a way to stop this awful thing—and never feel so helpless again.

Chapter One –Twenty-Five Years After Serpent Isle’s Fall – Alex

Being inside prison was lonely. Alex had spent most of her life trying to survive, always dreaming of making her way to the sky towns above. How many times had she crawled onto the roof of the soup kitchen, just to stare at the floating plateaus above them? The way such things were positioned as well, they blotted out big swathes of the Undercity, as if those who lived below were forced to live in the shadows of lords and royals. People below were reminded on a daily basis just how close the sky towns were, knowing that the rich, the wealthy, lived lives free of stress, starvation, thirst, and turmoil.

You could make it to a sky town to an empty house if you had ten thousand gold circs. Enough to buy a ticket on a sky ferry to a town, and to move straight into a property. Or if you registered yourself on the Sky Lottery, and paid a small tax each week for the hope of having your number drawn, the reward being a new life above.

Alex barely had enough money to feed herself, let alone put some aside for the sky lottery. She’d managed to save up a lot of circs at one point, but that got stolen. Of course it did.

She’d stayed with Mistress Sue her whole life, thankful for Mistress Sue taking her in. With Sue’s care, Alex grew up hating the people who abandoned her. She’d never quite dispelled that feeling, even now that she’d survived a few years into adulthood, and questions about her life kept coming. Mistress Sue did have one policy in life that Alex appreciated. It was that same policy that ensured Alex’s survival.

Many people went to Mistress Sue with unwanted babies. Some left them at the doorstep. Pay her five silver circs, and she’d take the baby, no questions asked. She even took the ones people didn’t give her money for, because she couldn’t stand seeing something tiny and helpless abandoned. Some babies got resold to barren mothers or bleeding hearts. Once a month, a cart came around for any who didn’t make it. It always made her sad when one of the little ones went, or a street kid came in with something chronic, and didn’t make it through the night. But unfortunately, people liked to leave their sick, ill, and unwanted infants.

People were cruel.

It’s the circle of life, Sue had said, smiling in her hard yet comforting way. We take those who are rejected, we look after them the best we can. All deserve a chance. But some of them will be sent Above too soon, no matter our efforts.

Alex was sincerely glad she never needed to be collected in a cart. Instead, she got to live with Mistress Sue and all the other children who had grown old enough to be useful, to beg on the streets for circs, to steal from those who guarded their money too loosely, and to pass messages to important people. Sometimes they gave messages to the sky people—the dragons who ruled the roost. In all of Alex’s twenty-four years, she’d never met a dragon personally. Though she had seen specks flying between the Six Isles when she sat on the roof to stare at the magical wonders floating in the air.

A guard passed by Alex’s cell. She banged on the door, glaring at him through the bars. “Hey! You there!”

The guard, who wore a dark gray suit and carried a sword tucked in a sheath, stopped and turned slowly to look at her.

“You know when I’ll die?” Her voice rasped from lack of use. She didn’t know what response to expect from the guard but was prepared for the worst.

The guard remained silent a moment, before he said, “Tomorrow. Sunrise.”

“Thanks,” Alex said. “And for not hitting me when I asked.”

The guard shook his head, brown eyes darkening. “Bad luck to hit a witch. Even one as scrawny as you.”

Alex said nothing as the guard walked away, his posture rigid as he made the sign of protection for himself with his hands.

Tomorrow. She strained her mind, trying to imagine that. Tomorrow, and her thinking, breathing, living, would stop. And she’d end right up at the sky halls Above if she’d lived a good life. Or she’d be yanked into the Underland, where only witches and criminals and evil people went. She stared at her own hands, sad for a moment. So much wasted potential. A life not lived in the way she’d dreamed. She wanted to stop the cruelty, but that was a difficult mission for an orphan child, and an adult without connections outside of the slums.

She’d thought she was helping. The first time the magic ever coursed through her veins, it came when she knelt over the body of a dying kitten in the street. A sad, pathetic thing, still in need of a mother’s milk. She’d mistaken it for a wet sock at first, as it lay in a puddle in the gutter. Everyone else walked by, but something in her rose, powerful and laced with grief. Tears and that burning in her throat for a tiny, helpless thing, left to die. Like she was. Like many babies were, because their awful, disgusting parents couldn’t take responsibility for those they had brought into the world. To them, a life cost five circs. Five sky-cursed circs.

Although she wrapped the kitten up in her dirty clothes to try and dry it, she knew it to be a lost cause. At least, until that strange, detached feeling stole over her. It boiled underneath her skin, and somehow, she could sense exactly what was wrong with the kitten. Its heart fluttered weakly in her ears, as she sensed all its vitals within her, protected by some kind of invisible barrier. And then… she’d pushed. Put something of herself into the kitten. The heartbeat grew stronger, and it began to struggle in her hands. She found the mother a short while later, and left the kitten among its brothers and sisters, walking with a spring in her step back home.

Shortly afterwards, Alex tapped into that power again, to help the sickliest of babies. Mistress Sue had been so surprised when the death rate lowered, and delighted. And it felt damn, damn good to save those lives, to know they lived because of her.

Turned out, though, people didn’t like magic so much. The last person she had healed, an ill, syphilitic woman, had gone running straight to the cops when she realized she was cured. Instead of, you know, being grateful Alex had saved her worthless life, the stupid woman instead screeched at the cops that she was touched by a witch, that Alex had cursed her. In all the commotion, in broad daylight, there was nowhere to run.

They didn’t give Alex a trial. Apparently, just being accused as a witch was enough, and if people got a “funny” feeling around her. Or spotted witch-like signs on her, like the dimples in her cheeks, the lock of blonde in her otherwise dark hair, and her hazel eyes, not quite brown, not quite green, which were apparently “witch eyes.”

Alex pictured Mistress Sue, now. The big, matronly woman always felt larger than life. She rarely smiled to show her teeth, because several were missing from sugar rot. But she wore her apron, her top with rolled-up sleeves, which displayed powerful arms that could tuck perfectly underneath her chest. I didn’t even get to say goodbye to her. She reserved a sob of pity for herself, for this situation, before curling up under her thin blanket. She couldn’t sleep, not when her death loomed so near. So instead, her mind swirled through every single facet of her life, through the things she knew, and the things she wished.

If only she had more time.

* * *

She woke up to the sound of her cell door being opened on rusty hinges. So, she had managed to fall asleep after all. She yawned, and then froze when an immaculate figure, holding a glowing crystal of light, stepped into her dingy little cell. Framed in the brilliant white glow, the man contrasted in an almost horrific way to Alex. Where she wore dirty rags and was barefoot, spindly and wretched, this figure sported fine blue clothes that looked as though they’d never seen a speck of dirt. Probably wore more on his skin than everyone made in Mistress Sue’s house in a year.

Her initial shock faded into a kind of sullen jealously. “What d’you want?” she said, hating how dirty she felt in comparison to the man. The man with dark eyes, like pools of honey in the blaze. He had a clean face, free of hair all around, including his head. Large, expressive eyebrows. That head was so shiny it could probably reflect sunlight.

“Ugly little thing, aren’t you?” the man said, his expression fast turning disdainful. “The way the others described you, you should have the features of a demon. Not that they’d be right, anyway, with their ridiculous superstitions. The most monstrous thing about you is your filth.”

Anger spiked through Alex, and the two guards outside her cell seemed to hunch into themselves, as if expecting retribution. “You try living here for a few weeks. See how you smell, then.”

The man didn’t approach her, perhaps not wanting to get anywhere near her, as if her dirt was a noxious aura about her. Or maybe he was afraid of her magic.

“You’re to be executed tomorrow,” he said, with a curiously light voice. Perhaps someone from the Isles. Where else would he be from? Those in the Undercity rarely dressed like him. This was probably normal attire for someone in a sky town. “This is mostly unavoidable. Unless you are lucky, of course, to ascend above. All crimes are forgiven, then.” He gave a rather sinister smirk that made her edge away.

Wading through the fog in her mind, Alex struggled to comprehend what he’d just said. It was hard to think through stress, thirst, hunger, and fear, along with an unhealthy dose of anger. “So… what are you saying?”

“I’m saying,” he said slowly and deliberately, as if she was stupid, “that I might be willing to take you with me to the skies above. On one condition. Are you really a witch? Or just another unfortunate soul to be killed?”

The guards behind gave uneasy glances at one another.

“You’d leave me in my cell to die if I wasn’t one?”

“Yes,” he said.

Well, he was honest. She had to give him that. Even if that honesty sent a fresh wave of emotion through her. She realized, with a sinking feeling, that this stranger was offering hope. And she was desperate, pathetic enough to leap for it like a dog after scraps.

“I’m… a witch.” Witch sounded like such a nasty word. When the people started accusing her of being one, they spat the word as if it was a curse.

“And what did you do to get yourself locked in here in the first place?”

“M’lord,” one of the guards said, a tremulous note in his voice. “I wouldn’t listen to a witch, no sir. That demon will tell you anything to spare herself.”

The man, the lord, made an abrupt gesture with his hand, commanding the guard to be silent.

She licked her lips, wondering if this was all some kind of cruel joke, somehow. She wouldn’t exactly put it past these people. Yet… he was visiting her in the middle of the night. Holding an expensive glowing orb. They didn’t have those in the slums. She explained to the man as best as able, though she wasn’t exactly the most eloquent person around, that the woman she’d cured had been the one to tattle on her.

“You’d think she would be grateful,” Alex sneered, wishing she’d never touched that storming woman. “I saved her life, stopped her dying an awful death, though that disease was probably her fault anyway. And what does she do? Go screaming to the cops.”

Was it just her imagination, or did something fire up in those brown eyes? She bristled further.

“You claim,” he said softly, eyes glinting with that unknown emotion, “to be able to heal others. You claim that rare power that people can only dream of—and that others would kill you for.” He glanced at the guards, who continued to stand in that stiff, uncomfortable way.

“Sounds about right,” she said, now feeling an overpowering itch in her left nostril. She resisted the urge to scratch at it.

The bald man with the dangerous eyes reached for a small pocket inside his fancy blue jacket. He pulled out a knife, brought his free hand over it, and gripped the blade hard, until blood dripped along the metal, his hand, the floor. “Prove to me you can heal. Seal my wounds.” He took a few steps closer to her, ignoring the anxious words of the guards. His eyes never left hers. “I need more than words, little beggar.”

“I’m not a beggar,” she snapped. Mistress Sue had never left her in want of food or shelter. She never went begging with the other urchins. It was beneath her, groveling on the cobblestones as people laughed at her, mocked or beat her out of the way. Her attention drifted to the hand, and a small flicker of fear welled inside. What if she… couldn’t? She hadn’t done anything in weeks. She’d languished in this cell, wasting away, and no longer felt as strong as before.

I can’t fail this, she thought, watching as he stepped close enough for her to touch. His nose was wrinkled up in faint disgust, and she tried not to be irritated by that. Instead, she looked at his hand, at the tributaries of red, and willed herself to succeed.

“I need to touch you,” she said, and the disgust on his face became more pronounced.

“Not before you’ve washed your hands, you don’t. Guards. Have any of you water?”

Blank silence. Then one of them strode away, returning a moment later with a cup of water. He passed it to the lord, who told Alex to wash her hands. She was tempted to spit into the liquid but decided not to. Such impulses served her no use when it came to the potential preservation of her life. She was uneducated—not stupid. She splashed the water over her hands, then, when he seemed satisfied, rested her fingers upon his cut palm. She waited for the familiar sense to steal over her. The strange… extra perception that came with whatever it was she could do. From one heartbeat to the next, she worried that nothing would happen.

She felt the man’s pain like a localized barrier. It radiated from his hand, delivering to her a sudden bout of confidence. Yes. She could do it. She pushed against that barrier, demanding entrance, demanding for the skin to knit itself up, for the blood vessels to heal themselves. With an almost resigned sigh in her mind, the flesh conceded to her wish. It reknitted. She never understood why healing felt like that. That she had to battle against the body’s reluctance for an outside force to speed up its healing ability.

A sharp inhale of surprise came from the man, giving Alex the impression he hadn’t actually expected her to succeed in healing at all.

“So, it is true,” he whispered, taking his hand from her and examining the healed cuts. The blood still stained his skin, but it had nothing to seep out of. “You weren’t lying. You are a witch.”

“Told you,” Alex said, wiping the blood off her hands on the bed mattress. She considered her grubby little tunic, but it had quite enough dirt on it. “So, when we going?”

“Now,” he said, nodding curtly, not finding offense at her brazen manner. “I have plans for you, woman. Your magic will come in handy indeed...”

Chapter Two – Meridas

Meridas hated being in the Undercity. All the humans were so poor, so filthy, consuming one another in a futile effort to make something of their lives. He’d much rather stay in the Isles, where at least people were educated. He bet none of the people running the prison knew how to string two words together in a written sentence.

He had no choice but to enter the Undercity, though. None of the witches in the Six Isles knew healing. They were mostly air witches, responsible for keeping the skyships moving, or light witches, for refueling the orbs that kept the towns suspended above. Sometimes another type of witch emerged, but they almost always got snapped up by some private company and used for profit.

The one thing he needed to find, above all else, was someone who healed. A slim hope, given that historically, the last healer on the Six Isles had lived over eighty years ago. How many prisons had he visited now, where people claimed their occupants were witches? None of them were. How many charlatans had he approached in the streets with his bodyguards trailing behind him, demanding to prove that their magic was real? He still felt the stink of below clinging to his skin, even as he ascended upon the airship to the cool, fresher air, and stepped upon the beautiful mosaic walks of his sky island. Everything up here was beautiful, uniform, well cared for. As for the bungalow he lived in—it sprawled out upon land that reached over many acres, holding proper heating systems and light orbs to keep everything illuminated. The new hire was currently sleeping, after being washed and given new clothes, her old ones incinerated. She slept in one of the spare rooms, and Meridas was now left alone in his study.

His hands trembled slightly. Personally, he wanted to yank that witch woman out of bed and haul her to fulfill her intended purpose, but the hospital didn’t open for visitors until the morning.

He heard the quiet bustling of Elicia outside, his oldest and most faithful servant. She’d served his father before him and took responsibility over the other servants, reminding him of the meetings he needed to attend, and raising up his reputation among the elite. About the only reputation she couldn’t shrug off of Meridas was the acrimonious divorce of his second wife. He’d only just won the legal court battle to make sure she didn’t run away with a chunk of his earnings. The audacity of her, to take away everything he’d worked for, after all, when she hadn’t lifted a finger in her life—but now it made the people of the court suspicious. A twice-divorced man? No, that reputation didn’t serve him well. He didn’t care, but people around him did.

Besides, he thought. I’m not exactly a man. And his second wife hadn’t been human. He assumed their shared magic would lay the groundwork for a good marriage. Certainly his father thought so. The old man lived comfortably on the other side of the sky island, in a huge estate that Meridas personally felt was too huge. Oh, Meridas’ new wife, Keraline, had seemed witty and demure at first, most becoming with those long eyelashes, that elegant curve of her lips, and the beautiful form she shifted into. Possibly one of the prettiest shiftings he’d ever seen.

It didn’t take long for the cracks to show. She might have been pretty, but she was also lazy, deceitful, and abusive to the servants and anyone below her. He could hardly pretend to be any better, but the way she had treated Elicia set his blood boiling even now.

He continued to stare blankly at the pile of documents he was supposed to sort through. Ledgers and accounts and the general economy of his tiny kingdom.

Elicia finally strode into the room, holding a broomstick she’d been using to sweep the floors. Her wizened face was set in concern, and she clutched the broom like a weapon. “Master Dasenson,” she said, giving a curt bow in her servant’s skirt. “You really should be sleeping. Or have you forgotten about the two meetings you’re expected to attend tomorrow?”

“Bother those meetings,” Meridas snapped, his fingers curling on one of the ledgers. He resisted that twitch impulse to brush it aside. “There are more important things right now.” Important things like his sister.

“You can’t keep neglecting your duties, young master. You’ve missed enough on your wild hunt for witch magic.”

“Not enough,” Meridas said stubbornly, though he knew her words to be true. He had been missing out on meetings for the past few weeks especially. “I succeeded, though,” he admitted to Elicia. “I finally have a witch that can heal. She was due to be executed. Had to bribe the warden enough so that I could take her out of there.”

“And she’ll help us, is that it?” Elicia folded her arms, lips tugged down in disapproval. “Are you sure this witch of yours will even want to help?”

He hesitated for just a moment. “She should be grateful. And she should not risk my ire, or I would kick her back to the stones she came from.”

The older woman let out a sigh but didn’t speak further on the subject. She returned to Meridas’ continued absence. “If you keep avoiding your duties, the people of the sky towns will think less of you as a result, and that means less opportunities. A chance for those you trade with to be bribed or bought out by those who care only for profit, and not for you.”

“People are threatening me, are they?” Meridas curled his lips into a smirk. Then his shoulders sagged, and the resistance crumbled. “No, you’re right. I have been missing too many. But...” he rubbed his eyes, suddenly feeling tired, “I need that witch woman to visit my sister as soon as possible. I don’t know how much longer my sister will last, and I’d rather not find out.”

“Of course,” Elicia said, her eyebrows raising as Meridas got up and walked past her.

“I’m going to bed,” he said, yawning as he did so. “Since I suppose I better be ready for what faces me tomorrow.”

He’d much rather be there with his sister, though, watching her revive at last from her illness. That awful, debilitating illness that chipped away at her life each day. The vile thing that ruined their lives so many years back. But he also didn’t want to be put in a position where he needed to crawl back to his father, and admit that he had failed.

He passed the witch woman’s room, paused, and peered through the keyhole. The room had been locked for now, since they didn’t fully trust her yet. Why would they? She might be in the Isles, now, she might technically be forgiven of her past, but Meridas knew that the past had a way of catching up to someone.

It had certainly caught up with him.

From the vantage he was given of the room, he saw a lump in a partially visible mattress. Walking more quietly, he headed to his luxurious quarters for some much-needed sleep.

* * *

The meeting, of course, was as boring as ever. He sat there through the other lords and merchants of their sky island talking about new taxation rules, as the cost of bringing in supplies was becoming more expensive. There were about thirty of them in total, all jostling to make themselves heard.

“It’s becoming an issue on my little home by the Sky Pool,” one of the merchants, Taciv, said. One of the poorer wealthy ones. “Shipping costs of water is becoming super expensive, which I think is ridiculous. But we need water to survive, of course. But if it becomes too expensive, then we will surely find it difficult for us to live up here comfortably.”

“You rogue,” one of the other merchants said. “You clearly want tax exemption for this, don’t you?”

Taciv shrugged his shoulders. His greasy dark hair just about skimmed the tops of them. “If you want to enjoy your water at a cheap and manageable price, then I do ask for some leniency in this. Otherwise with the current shipping costs and tax rules, I will need to start charging you fifteen silver circs per liter of water, rather than the cheap 5 that you’ve been enjoying.”

“Fifteen? That’s robbery!”

Meridas listened to their bickering dispassionately. It was true that shipping costs were rising, and that the few air witches who realized how much of a monopoly they had were beginning to bump up prices for requests asked of them. He was in charge of most shipping from this island. Plus, no rivers flowed upon the sky islands. The crops they grew got regularly irrigated by the clouds, so at least they didn’t have to worry about that, and they did have rain traps over the island… but this wasn’t enough to slake the thirst of a population of several thousand people.

Everyone was angling for something in this debate. Meridas preferred to focus on produce that didn’t rely on much from the outside. Besides, when traveling by himself, he could just shapeshift and fly. That saved quite a bit on travel money and shipping costs if he chose to get anything himself. Still, an air witch would be far more useful.

Or, in his case, a life witch. Can make a lot of money with a healer, he thought with grim satisfaction.  But I’ll need to be careful not to leave her on her own, or someone else might steal her. His mind now drifted to his sister in the hospital, wondering if the white witch was already there, using that peculiar power to cure his sister of her terminal ailment.

Wondering if she even could.

His mother had failed. Though she hadn’t been a healer. He knew enough about the Creeping Rot now in that it affected creatures of magical origin. That included shapeshifters, witches. But did it include a life witch?

This is my only chance. In the hands of that grubby little witch. He gave a little shiver, before noticing people’s attention upon him.

“Well?” Taciv said. “Do you think the tax exemption should occur, for the good of our little island?”

“Once we have official confirmation from accountants not employed by you to check that your claims are true, sure,” Meridas said, mind racing to form words. “After all, it is important that we get our water. But not if you’re seizing an opportunity to line your pockets far beyond the price.”

The greasy-haired merchant’s expression soured slightly, before brightening again. “There has to be a markup, of course. Otherwise I have no business,” he said.

“Reasonable markups,” Meridas snapped. “A 200 percent increase on the original price does not sound reasonable. Hence the need to confirm your claim. Do we agree on this?”

The general murmur of assent allowed Meridas to sink back into his thoughts again. He worried about the future, like all of them. Already, visitors had started visiting their specific island less, simply because one person was found infected, when it was supposed to be impossible. And the fact that it happened to be his sister meant that he by default had a chance of contracting it, too—without any evidence as to where it came from.

At least none of them knew about his witch. He examined his hand absently, remembering how the skin had fixed itself, and the way the witch’s eyes had glazed over as she seemed to reach beyond his surface, somehow.

He fidgeted in annoyance in his seat. This inane meeting couldn’t end fast enough.

Chapter Three – Alex

The person she was supposed to heal lay comatose in front of her. Even standing away from the woman, who had features so similar to the sibling that worried after her, Alex could feel that there was an inherent wrongness unlike anything she’d ever encountered before. Other diseases tended to ravage the body, and some sent tiny particles to infect others. This one felt ravenous. It appeared to sense, somehow, that she was here and yearned to assault her as well. It crept up the woman’s skin in sickly green shades, tainting the vein color as such, withering her body away as if all the life was being sucked out. The doctors who attended her wore face masks and protective clothing to cover themselves.

She knew, somehow, the disease wouldn’t target the non-magical. Day one of my new life, she thought sourly. Attempt to cure a disease that wants to kill me. How did it know what she was? Elicia, the master servant, stood a little way behind Alex, glaring at her in heavy suspicion, as if Alex might try to dash away at any moment. As if Alex might somehow sabotage her only chance of a better life, since she doubted being sent back to the Undercity would be a viable option. The cops knew her. One sighting from the wrong kind of person, and it’d be straight to the hangman’s block.

Or, in her case, a potential burning at the stake to get rid of the demonic spirits inside her.

“Something’s wrong with her,” Alex said, which prompted a snort of derision from Elicia.

“Obviously. Or did you miss the green skin?”

“No,” Alex said, annoyed. “I mean that I can feel the disease from here. It’s trying to reach me. Like it senses I have magic.”

At this, Elicia’s smirking expression faded. The matronly woman shuffled from one foot to the other, blue eyes now shaded in concern. “It’s not a normal disease, this one. It only targets those with magic.”

“And… you expect me to go and try and cure it, with the knowledge that it’s going to try and kill me?”

“It’s either you try, or you get tossed off the island,” Elicia said, clearly not giving a single flip for her. Well, that was to be expected, she supposed. Alex didn’t belong in a world like this. Everyone walked around like they had rods stuffed up their backsides, and she couldn’t help but slouch, and slink to places, because she could move faster this way. The disease seemed to work itself up when she approached, thirsting to spread. Such a cold, empty hunger.

Here goes nothing, Alex thought, looking down at the dark-haired woman with the creeping veins of death under her skin. She might have been twenty, she might have been forty. Under the intent gaze of Elicia and the doctor hovering nearby, Alex touched the woman on one of her protruding, discolored veins. Instantly, she felt it leap into her and start attacking her magic. She winced. The actual process would be slow—she sensed she wouldn’t get proper symptoms until a few days after the contact if she couldn’t remove it, but the way this disgusting thing already had begun to work on her…

She gritted her teeth hard, seeking the source of the infection. Where some illnesses felt like a wall, this felt like a labyrinth, with a breathing, snorting monster hot on her trail. She needed to focus. Not panic. Her breath came out in wheezing hisses. Her heart rate sped up. Inside that sky-cursed woman’s body was an entire maze, and it gripped at Alex’s mind, her soul, trying to draw her into the darkness.

Diseases aren’t supposed to do this! The thought stuttered in her mind. The woman’s body didn’t only resist her attempt, it hauled her right in. Desperately, Alex hacked at the mental entrapment, the disease, trying blunt, brutal force with her magic.

Finally, her wild assault seemed to strike something, and she heard an awful, grating sound in her soul, as something sucked away from her. She ripped her hand away from the victim’s body.

A green, sticky mess clung to Alex’s palm, and seemed to bunch out of the woman, like earthworms being tugged from the ground. Someone gasped in horror behind her, as she continued to wrestle with the evil thing. With one last, gruesome tug, it left the woman, and immediately began to wither, turning from a poisonous green to an ashen black.

Awareness slammed back into Alex. Sweat dripped down her forehead, pooled at the corners of her lips, and her body trembled like a lead caught in wind. With a groan of disgust, she tossed the vile, tendril-like bundle into the nearest waste bucket, and sought to drown her hands in the provided basin of water. “Never,” she croaked, “make me do that again.”

“Storms...” Elicia said with both fear and awe, “you did it.”

Alex felt neither triumphant nor happy with the praise. She felt empty, somehow. And very, very tired. As for the thought of going to cure someone else with that particular affliction… she’d been serious about not wanting to do that again.

Except, this was what they wanted her for, wasn’t it? What in skies was that thing?

“Oh, mistress! Thank goodness!” Elicia said, and Alex turned around to see Elicia leaning over the woman who lay in bed, now with both eyes open. Meridas’ sister took some time adjusting, she seemed so dazed and confused, and eventually the doctor ordered both Elicia and Alex out, to give “Miss Vash” time to recover.

Vash and Meridas. What stupid names the people above gave their children. And just like that, while heading back to the bungalow, passing finely dressed people who stared at her curiously in her oversized servant’s robes, Alex was hit by a sharp, sickening longing to return back to the Undercity. At least there, she knew exactly where she fit. Mistress Sue gave her a home, and she knew people in the streets, and all the places they liked to go. She knew the best places to visit, the people to haggle with, and the ones to avoid. She missed most of all being able to sit upon the roof and stare up and dream.

Because being up here shattered them. Even if she now had a new lease on life, it no longer felt like hers to control.

* * *

Hours later, swallowing her way through a warming meal of leftover slops in a bowl, the door behind swung open. Alex turned around to see Meridas striding towards her, wearing formal clothes that looked as though he’d just been to attend a funeral. His dark eyes had that brooding quality to them, as if he spent entirely too much time overthinking matters. Lots of smart people acted like that. Heads too stuffed full of nonsense, Alex thought. She didn’t know what to expect of him now that she’d done the deed he wrenched her out of prison for.

“Why is it,” he said, now picking a seat opposite her on the dining table she sat at, the canteen for the servants of the bungalow, “that a dirty little urchin like you has the powers that someone in the skies should have?”

She slurped the contents of her bowl, enjoying how he wrinkled his nose in distaste at the uncouth gesture. “Got to come from somewhere, I guess. Why not me?”

“You’re an orphan, aren’t you?” He drummed the fingers of his right hand against the wooden table. Alex noted with resentment how he hadn’t even bothered to thank her. And he accused her of being the bad one.

“Yeah. Lots of people is orphans down there.”

“Are,” Meridas corrected. “You’re a woman in your twenties. Try not to sound like one of those child street beggars.”

“Lots of people don’t got educated,” Alex said, sneering. “Too much money. Too much time. Always need to stay ahead to live.”

“I’ll soon change that,” Meridas said, his dark, gold-pooled eyes cold. “Because while you’re a part of my household, I intend to educate you so that your voice doesn’t grate on my ears. Anyway, back to the line of questioning—you never found out who your parents were, correct?”

Although Alex’s heart did a strange lurch at the thought that she might get this mysterious education, that she wasn’t being kicked out after healing Vash, her expression soured at the mention of lost parents. “No. Don’t intend to. Anyone who leaves a baby to strangers has lost their right to that child. Why should I want to know them?”

“Hmm.” He contemplated her words for a moment, staring absently into the depths of her bowl of stew. “I want to know who they are, even if you don’t. Your parents are most likely the reason you have this rare power in the first place. They might very well come from one of the sky towns.”

At these words, Alex almost choked on her stew. She managed to swallow down a malignant lump of meat and coughed lightly, glaring with watery eyes. “You think so?”

“It’s a high possibility.” Now his gaze lifted to hers. She met them with the icy coldness inside, the one she’d been building up for many years.

“I doubt it,” she said. “People from here won’t be found leaving their babies in streets like mine. It’s not something that will come to mind for them. Most likely they’re foreigners. Or how often do you see coloring like mine?”

His gaze flicked over her hair, streaked with that odd blonde lock, and her slightly darker than usual skin, heading more towards gray. “I suppose not,” he said slowly. “Still, I can’t ignore the possibility that you might be from important stock. It’s one thing if you were born to a poor family… but an orphan? One that doesn’t know their parents, but has access to life magic? No. There’s something different.” Again his eyes flicked to her blonde lock. The one the guards had accused of being a witch endowment. “Or maybe you’re something else entirely.” Now he leaned closer, and Alex forgot about eating. “I apologize in part for bringing you up here. Someone with your powers… you’ll need to be careful. You’ll be a target of my enemies and acquaintances. You’ll be the ultimate protection against the Creeping Rot, now that it’s started appearing again.”

Started appearing again? Clearly, there were a few extra things about her new world that she didn’t quite understand. She licked her lips nervously. “Started appearing again? So, you mean it disappeared?”

He nodded, a strange expression upon his face. Hate? “Yes. And yet now it comes back—and the first person it infects is my sister. Tell me—can you sense it?”

When she bobbed her head, he said, “Can you sense it in me? Is it there?”

“No,” she replied, confident. “Not a lick.”

“I never approached her,” he said softly. “Once I knew what it was. It targets those with magic. It would have taken me, just like it took Vash.”

The statement startled her. “Wait, magic? You and your sister both have it as well? You’re witches?” She knew the disease craved her magic, but not that… Vash was magical as well. How come she hadn’t detected that?

A snorting laugh followed her question. “Me, a witch? No. Nothing like that. I’m what you call a dragon. You must have seen us in the skies, we’re all over the place there.”

“Wait.” Alex failed to associate the almost ethereal creatures she’d seen with the grouchy-looking man in front of her now. “You’re a human. I don’t see any wings on you.”

“That’s because I haven’t transformed yet. You really think we spend all the time in our dragon forms? It can be awfully inconvenient at times.”

“Can I see?” Alex’s former reserved mood evaporated at the thought of seeing a dragon up close. Would they be terrifying or beautiful, or both?

He managed a smile in response. “Not now. Maybe later. Maybe you’ll even get to fly on one of us. Or like the skyboat that brought us up here.”

Skyboat. Now, if there was one thing about the journey Alex had loved, it was the skyboat. A simple passage from low altitude to high altitude. She had no idea how the thing flew, of course—only that the back of it with the strange, flipper-like appliance seemed to help keep them balanced, and that sailors (sky sailors?) hoisted the sails. Meridas had pointed to a woman who stood at the front of the boat, without any safety appliance, her hands out, fingers spread wide, clearly having the time of her life.

Air witch, he’d said. She was what helped them to move. Alongside a tiny rock made of the same stuff that kept the islands floating.

“I’d like that—riding a skyboat. Might be something nice to do instead of, you know, torturing myself pulling demons out of people.” The words came out harsher than intended, and she amended with, “Your sister was in torment. If I were you, I’d figure out how she got infected and do something about it. It’s not… pleasant to tackle.”

Meridas’ expression for the first time showed a glimmer of sympathy. “I’m sorry. And grateful all the same. Perhaps I did not show this earlier...” He paused, rubbing the underside of his jaw with one finger, contemplating what to say. “It’s just… this disease. I was… I was around when it appeared. Over two decades ago.”

“You were?” Alex gaped at him. How old was he? He spoke of his age so casually.

“Yes,” Meridas said. He sighed, lowering his head. “How old are you?”

“Twenty-four,” Alex replied promptly.

“Then you never saw it. The Serpent Island falling. Did you?”

“Don’t know what you’re talking about.” She gave him an apologetic shrug. “Sorry.”

“No matter,” he said, though his gaze remained fixed at the ground. “Perhaps when you’re better educated, I’ll talk about it. But for now… you must keep yourself safe.” He regarded her now with a quite alien expression. “And thank you for saving her.”

“No problem,” Alex said automatically, though it was, in fact, a problem. Especially if they expected her to subject herself to more of that torture. At least it was nice that this Meridas actually treated her more like a human being now, rather than some disposable rag. There weren’t a whole lot of times she could remember people being so nice.

Except if they wanted something. But even then, the niceness was… something.

It might make it easier to settle into her new world of sky and wealthy people.

If this disease didn’t kill her off first.

* * *

Turned out, Alex hated education. It involved a lot of sitting down and enduring the snotty tutor who came over, making her feel dumb for not knowing even a tenth of the things he talked about. Within ten minutes of hearing her tutor, Narl, talk, she wanted to throw herself out of the window and just dodge the lessons altogether. But when Meridas passed her, asking how she was doing with her lessons, and she replied, “Fine,” he seemed to act pleased. If anything, he was far friendlier to her. Smiles and waves, and the occasional pat on her shoulder, a question if she was okay, if she was settling in.

And for some sky-cursed reason, she didn’t mind seeing him… pleased about that. Asking questions like he cared. Because it meant someone smiling at her, rather than accusing her of robbing someone, or treating her with suspicion. Now that she’d proven her abilities to be true, and saved the lord of the house’s sister, people actually seemed to treat her better. Even Elicia, who sometimes helped to cook her a little extra when it came to dinner time, to “Fatten you up, because you’re as thin as a rake, you wretched thing.”

Well, she couldn’t complain about that. As for lady Vash—it seemed she didn’t live with her brother. She had some other property. So Alex didn’t see so much of her over the weeks, aside from an occasional dinner—but usually, the servants weren’t allowed to tend the lord and lady during their dinner times, due to potential confidential information.

But cursing Narl, however, didn’t seem to have the faintest clue of how to actually teach someone who knew nothing.

Five weeks of education, and nothing but a big headache to show for it. Now him and his stupid, flattened face stood in front of her. He wore these pompous black robes which presumably was an attempt to make him look more important, and he liked to make some sort of effort to his graying beard, keeping it trimmed perfectly, so it resembled a ball of fuzz framing his cheeks and chin.

“You should at least be able to tell me the names of the six floating islands now, at least, girl?”

“Dasen,” she said, reciting Meridas’ own island. Apparently, the lords and ladies loved taking a variant of their island’s letters into their names. “Ruthen, Mastride, Karibos, Feylok, and Azarus.”

“Good. And which one is the king’s island?”

“Azarus,” she said, feeling bored. She also had to pronounce her words a certain way, and Narl had snapped and spat at her incessantly until she did say things in the way he wanted. Correct seemed a misnomer—she didn’t think there was such a thing as correct. Everyone had accents in the Undercity, denoting which district they came from. Or even if they came from far away, or above.

“And which was the island that fell twenty-four years ago?”

“Serpent Isle.” One year before she was born. The one Meridas said he’d talk to her about, once she “had enough education.” It seemed to be some kind of sore spot with him. “Is this all education is?” she asked then. “Just making me remember names?”

“It’s making sure you don’t look like a fool when anyone who visits your master also speaks to you,” Narl said in his nasal way of irritating her. “So you don’t sound like something he scraped off the side of a street, and that you can understand half of what anyone talks about. Society on the islands is very, very different from society in the Undercity.”

“You’re not very good at teaching people,” Alex said. Boredom and a headache made her stupid. “Instead of helping me with my lack of knowledge, you sneer at me for not knowing it, and insult me with everything I am supposed to learn. How in skies do you expect me to know something I was never taught?”

“You live here now. Not down there,” he said, as if this was somehow a reasonable explanation. Like she’d just magically know everything because she lived in a different place. “Now if you’re going to keep interrupting me, then I’ll report you to your master. Are you going to interrupt again?”

“No,” she replied, sullen. She didn’t feel particularly interested in causing a problem for Meridas, as much as she wanted to snap more at this man as he continued to stuff her head with nonsense.

She didn’t think she could fit in here, though. No matter how many words she could learn, they couldn’t exactly turn a pig into a swan. Maybe that was why, she thought, those who made it to the skies from below tended to only land themselves in servant positions, or focused on the trading sectors, with bringing supplies in and out, as well as shipping people in and out. How many of them truly got houses, or were just pushed into one already owned?

There wasn’t much room for anyone who couldn’t work, Alex realized. So those older people in the Undercity, who still dreamed of living a life of retirement in the sky towns, would never be able to do it. She wondered if there was an island for these older people.

With the lesson finished, and her head pounding from the unwelcome headache, she finally left the study of the bungalow, usually Meridas’ reserved area, to go and sit within the servant canteen. She noticed that the other servants didn’t want to look at her. Aside from Elicia, the master servant, there were about six other people in Meridas’ employ—three women, three men. None of them looked like they’d come from below, so Alex wondered if they’d somehow been born into servitude. She suspected those type of people would take enormous pride in their roles. Maybe they all disliked her and saw her as a foreigner encroaching on their lands.

Inside the servants’ dining room, she saw Meridas there, with his sister, and immediately felt a strange lurch in her stomach. Partly from surprise, partly from how well dressed they looked. Or was it the way they stood, so regal and full of confidence? Few people stood like that in the Undercity. Very few people had that much pride.

Mistress Sue, perhaps. Maybe money was at the heart of it, but still, she was better than those who would have left them to die without anything. At least in her house, they had a chance.

“Ah, yes,” Meridas said, turning to face her with a faint smile upon his lips. He did have a nice smile, come to think of it. And she liked the way his eyes looked. Shame she hadn’t seen him in his dragon form yet, like he’d promised to show her at one point. “We were just talking about you.”

Alex felt a little self-conscious in her servant’s robes, which were simple, practical, and made of a thick fabric that scratched at her skin. Gray clothes, with the symbol of Meridas’ family. A family that came from many generations down the line. It must feel nice, Alex thought, to have that sense of importance. To feel as if you were linked to your past.

“You were?” She gave a curtsy, which was considered proper, and Vash smiled as well. Now that she wasn’t on her death bed, being attacked by some strange green disease, she looked positively radiant, with glossy black hair, recovering the plumpness in her cheeks, and with a wonderful, tight outfit that spiraled in a long blue skirt to her ankles. In that same outfit, Alex didn’t really see her scrawny body pulling off the same elegant image.

“Yes. We were talking about your unusual powers, and potentially the parents that might be linked with them. Vash, here, thinks you might just be from one of the exiled families.”

Exiled? “You actually send people away from the islands?”

“If they break important laws here, yes. Laws such as robbery, murder… and not paying their island tax. It’s possible you might be from exiles, because Vash, who is better at socializing than I ever am, seems to feel that it’s an impossibility for you to belong to any of the noblewomen in the courts. Wouldn’t that be interesting to find your parents?”

“Like I told you,” Alex said, keeping her voice as calm as possible, again using the careful way of pronunciation that Narl yelled about to her, “I don’t care about them. They forfeited their rights to being parents the moment they gave me up. And they never came looking since. Do you think I want to know people like that?”

Vash fluttered her eyelashes in a rather confused way. “Forgive me,” she said. “But I thought you would at least be interested in your heritage. Where these powers of yours come from.”

“No.” Well, that was a lie, but she didn’t want to fall back on the truth now. “I am what I am. Though I don’t see why my power has to come from the sky towns. Surely anyone can have the power, with luck?”

“Technically, this is true,” Meridas agreed. “But the higher concentration of magic comes from the sky towns. I think it’s because of the way the islands work. They function by magic. And maybe that magic seeps into the children that are born up here.” He gave her a clear, curious look. “As you know, I intend to find your parents. Say that I succeed. Will you at least look at the information about them?”

“I...” Alex hesitated. Would she? It seemed strange how curious they were. “Maybe. It depends what you find out about them.”

Curse it. The more they talked about her parents, the more she actually wondered about them. Now that she wasn’t struggling to live, now that she actually had time to herself, it also meant having more time to think.

Maybe that was the secret to a true education. Having enough time and stability in life to be able to sift through problems. Although from what she was beginning to gather from her lessons, life in the sky towns wasn’t nearly as idyllic as people below thought it to be. She hated that on a level—feeling that crushing disappointment.

“You know, brother,” Vash said, now examining Alex in a way she wasn’t much sure she liked, “you do need to think about settling down again for real. Maybe instead of marrying into the families, you could consider marrying a witch. It’s a healthy union, and they bring great prestige.”

Both Meridas and Alex stared at her as if she was crazy. “Say, what?” Alex said, at the same time as Meridas’, “You must be joking.”

“You don’t agree?” Vash said, one eyebrow arched, faint amusement tainting her lips. Alex had noticed that Vash seemed to be inclined to be friendly to her—but that most likely stemmed from the fact that Alex had saved her life.

“Father would never accept it,” Meridas said, folding his gray-suited arms. “He barely agreed with the last two women I was with. I can’t very well go and start courting a servant of my own household—and one from the Undercity, no less.”

Wait. They’re talking about me?

“Father doesn’t agree because you refused to marry Larazar—and she was the one he wanted you hitched to. A direct link to the king’s line. So anyone you choose is not enough,” Vash pointed out. “Plus, your taste is questionable. Natalie was alright, but she’s way too headstrong. The last one, though… I don’t know what you saw in her.”

And… he had wives. Of course he did. “Lady Vash,” Alex said, plastering a bright smile onto her face, “if you’re talking about Meridas pairing up with me, we’re worlds apart. It would be like a dragon marrying a pig.”

Meridas let out an involuntary snort of laughter, though Vash looked less than amused.

“Don’t put yourself down like that. You shouldn’t underestimate yourself. You’ll fit in right enough here, as long as you don’t do anything stupid. I think you could be a good match.”

A good match, Alex thought past the rapid beating of her heart, only because I’m a witch. Not because I have a personality or anything. It’s just my magic. She didn’t want to aggravate Lady Vash any more than necessary, though, so she said nothing to that statement. Meridas, however, was looking at her as if he’d never seen her before. Five weeks of hellos and how are yous and goodbyes, friendly pats and an amiable attitude, and not once had he stared at her as though she might be a succulent piece of meat.

“You know, you’re not bad-looking,” he said, nodding his head slowly at Alex. “You could do with slouching less, though. You’re not going to have someone leap out of the shadows and stab you.”

Alex let out a nervous laugh, feeling her cheeks glow in slight embarrassment from the attention. “No offense, but you told me that I would be considered valuable. Valuable things have a habit of being stolen or killed. So, yes. I am suspicious.” Even now, her attention flitted when she saw someone move in her peripheral vision—a servant, coming out of the kitchens with a bowl of soup. Another person came into the dining room, saw the three of them, and hastily backed out. Her eyes swept over the long, wooden tables, the tough, padded chairs, a dozen of them each side, though there weren’t enough people working here to fill up the place, and some stains that never seemed to have been wiped away.

“Can you not be suspicious and… not slouch?” Meridas walked to her and grasped her shoulders. She swallowed her impulse to struggle and kick, and frowned as he adjusted her slouch, so that she stood tall. The posture felt awkward, weird, like there was a sword belted to her spine. “Chin different, as well...” now his surprisingly soft hands brushed under her chin, changing the angle of her head, so that she stared directly into his eyes. They were like dark holes, and in the light of the orbs that were attached to the walls, she could see her own hazel ones reflected in his. Did they seem unnatural to him? Witch-like?

Finally, he dropped his hands and stepped away from her. “She is… pretty,” he said. “But I’ve found that looks alone do not make for good relationships.”

Strangely enough, Alex felt a savage kind of satisfaction with his words, along with relief. Yes. She agreed with that.

Still, though. Married twice? He’d been with two other women?

“Think about it, brother. It’ll stop you getting swamped when you attend the ballrooms as well, if they know that you have finally settled on courting someone.”

They fell into conversation again, bickering but with smiles, and Alex felt that now would be her time to slink into the kitchen, grab some food, and leave. She wanted to think on this a little longer.

Neither of them seemed to notice her go. Neither had asked about how her education was going, or if she wanted to be here. But, of course, it wasn’t like she had a choice, was it?

Inside the kitchen, she took one of the set-out bowls and ladled some soup into it from the simmering cauldron—chicken soup, with some kind of spicy aroma that made her mouth water. The male cook gave her a curt nod when she thanked him, and she sidled off out the dining room, selecting a quiet area to eat in peace. Wondering just what her future held in store for her, and if Vash would push with the marriage thing, and if Meridas would consider.

Chapter Four – Meridas

Another one was infected. They heard the news only yesterday. He’d been attending another one of his sky-cursed meetings, this time worrying about the affairs of one of the floating islands, who had recently had one of the minor lords exiled for tax evasion. Apparently, he’d made a storm about how expensive the cost of living was, and how they couldn’t expect him to pay such absurd amounts of money.

That same island with the exiled minor lord had now reported that the lord of Ruthus Manor had fallen mysteriously ill and could no longer attend any of his affairs. His son was taking up the work, but the lord himself, usually healthy and boisterous, now lay, some of the servants reported, upon his deathbed.

It might not be the Creeping Rot, Meridas thought, though not without frustration. He was no closer to finding out where it was coming from than he was since his sister fell ill. Because she had dragon blood, she’d lasted for weeks. Non-dragons would last far less than that.

He thought of events before. When his former island had fallen. When he was forced to watch with the other children as the magic drained out of the island and caused it to die.

Now Meridas sat in his study, staring out to the storm-lashed windows, watching the lightning crackle in the air. Water would flood the storm bowls and drains, providing them with water and danger. He thought he saw a skyship in the distance, struggling against the ferocious winds. Likely they had been caught unawares. There was always someone who thought they could sneak in an extra shipping trip or tourists.

The ship fought weakly against the winds, before it spun out of sight. In the corner of his study, the former street rat, Alex, sat frowning over a book she’d been tasked to read by Narl. It was a children’s story, but for someone like her, who had never been taught to read in her life, it provided a challenge.

Seven weeks, since healing Vash. Seven weeks, and all he’d done with her new life was to force her into education, and plan how best to use that astonishing power of hers. He was afraid of announcing her, however. There would be opportunists who might want to make circs out of her healing ability and use her for their own ends. He didn’t need the circs… yet. The shipping lanes he controlled helped rake in substantial profit, and you didn’t exactly get many sky pirates around—because the dragons did a good job of wrecking them.

Again, he examined the life witch, taking the time to note the way that blonde lock caught the light, making that section of her head golden. Or how her eyes with the light right on her desk appeared a luminous green, instead of the murky swirl they usually were.

What an amazingly lucky find she was. He found himself smiling slightly, before shaking off the expression. Maybe not lucky, if his suspicions about her origins proved to be correct. If those people ever found out what she was, they might well want her back. Vash thought her a child of an exiled noble. Fair enough. He, however, suspected something else—because of the lock of blonde in her hair, betraying a mixed heritage.

The Conclave of Zamorka.

He shivered at the idea. Zamorka. Land of shadows. A place where men went to die, seeking lost magics. The few humans that did live in such a place were twisted by the wild magic. It bled into their hair and eyes, lightening strands of hair to unnatural hues of yellow and red, and bleeding the warmth out of their eyes, so they became icy and—and green—like what he saw in Alex’s eyes when catching the light just right.

This woman, he was almost certain of it, had Zamorkan heritage. She might well be oblivious to it, but her very presence here right now meant that Zamorkans were inching in from forsaken territory to theirs. Perhaps even operating in the Undercity below.

Alex turning up and finding that people were falling ill to a disease that should have been eradicated years ago was no coincidence. He checked his scribe’s notes about the Conclave, a group of individuals who deliberately moved through the human kingdoms, sowing discord and dissent wherever they went. Twenty years ago, the Dynasty of Jarithas had collapsed in the far south. Today, the once strong kingdom squabbled with four potential heirs to the throne—and all borders and trade to Jarithas had stopped.

Were the Conclave targeting the Undercity and the Six Isles? Had they already begun their inexorable advance through the farmlands and the minor towns?

“Curse it!” Alex exclaimed, drawing Meridas out of his brooding. “I feel like a storming fool,” she said then, her face red with frustration. When Meridas didn’t snap at her for interrupting his thoughts, she took it as an invitation to continue. “I know this is meant to be a children’s book, but I still can’t wrap my head around so many of the words...”

“Let me see,” Meridas said, glad of a brief excuse to stay away from his worries. He’d prod Elicia later—she knew more about the wild magics than most people had a right to. He casually braced his hands on Alex’s chair, noting how her hair parted at the back, revealing a section of her neck. The text she attempted to read was “What’s for Dinner, Little Dragon?” Something he’d read when he was about six or so. Many notes lay at her right side, blotchy and messy in style, but just about readable. A child’s scrawl.

“You’re stuck here?” He read it out loud. “And the dragon flapped his wings, forming a huge gust of wind.  ‘This isn’t dinner for me!’ The dragon flew to the sea.”

“Yes.. I thought… this was…” She pointed at dinner. “Dy-ner, but I know it’s probably what we say as dinner. Why do we say it as dinner?”

Oh dear. He didn’t have the faintest idea how to explain the various sounds, but he tried anyway. She still looked as confused as ever. She also seemed incredibly frustrated she couldn’t read it, but in all honesty, Meridas thought the twenty-something woman was doing well. After all, she’d only been learning for seven weeks. And she’d clearly understood most of the concepts.

“You know, you shouldn’t be so afraid to ask for help,” Meridas said, once she flipped over the next page of the story. “It’s not a terrible thing to ask for assistance when you’re in need.”

“I’m taking you away from your work, though,” Alex said, appearing slightly fatigued.

“If it’s a problem, I’ll say so. Right now it’s not.”

“Do I have to learn all this, anyway? It’s not like I’ve been anywhere,” Alex then whispered, rubbing her eyes and smudging ink on her cheeks. “All you need me for is to heal, right? That I can do. Unless you know anyone who can teach the healing better?”

“I’m afraid not. You’re the first life witch that I’ve ever seen. You people are quite rare. And it’s pointless to just have any witch teach you, because they won’t know how your magic works.”

“Hmph.” She turned in her chair to look into his eyes, since he’d now withdrawn his hands from the top. “What do you people do for entertainment around here? Because I don’t think I’ve seen anyone play or do anything. Like, ever.”

“Hmm...” he smiled at her. “We play Knights and Dragons. That’s a card game. Usually played between two people, and it’s about capturing each other’s cards.”

“Sounds like Beggars and Kings,” Alex said. “We got that card game.”

“Maybe we can compare,” he said. “I’m sure I have a deck lying around. We do other things as well, but… maybe start off small.”

“Sure. Why not? Teach me, master,” she said with a quirky grin, and he imitated it, eager all of a sudden to do something… nice, with someone. Not order them around or talk about current affairs and matters that served little more than to create stress.

Yes… this might well be enjoyable. He found his pack of cards at the back of the desk drawer, gathering a few layers of dust. During the storm weather, now would be an ideal time to sit by the fire and play cards… all they were missing was the actual fire. His study did have a hearth. He quickly went and grabbed some of the kindling and logs, dumping them in the lightly ashed fireplace, before leaning forward and letting out a small puff of flame from his lips. At least that ability stayed in human form, although not nearly as powerful. Tucked behind the iron grating, the fire now blazed into life, and he went to teach Alex the rudiments of the game.

She picked it up fast. Within about four games, she’d succeeded in her first win. There on the table, her knight had conquered his dragon, after she’d deftly managed to pin back his princess for another two turns. The princess was the only counter to the knight, and since the dragon was the strongest piece on the field in that it trumped all others, he’d desperately needed the right cards in time. But of course… she was smart. Smarter than someone found in the Undercity should have been. But then, that was mean of him to judge, wasn’t it? Education existed everywhere. Just not everyone had access to it with its paywall.

“It’s a bit different from my game,” she said. “We have to memorize cards with mine. You have four cards that can win when you put them down, unless you buy them out with the trump card. And you have to only put matching sets down, unless you have none of that set, so you must give something else, or buy the card...” Eventually, he persuaded her to try and set up her game with his own cards. She removed about half of them for the game, and was practically brimming with excitement at the prospect of teaching someone else something she knew. Probably was nice not to feel so stupid.

It wasn’t until Elicia came in to inform him that his dinner was waiting that he realized just how long he’d spent playing simple card games with Alex. Four hours. Four hours of doing virtually nothing else but bounce between their two games. It struck him as desperately sad, somehow, that he hadn’t managed to have fun like that in ages. Worrying about what his father thought. The divorce of both his wives, and the long court battles that followed so they didn’t pinch everything he’d earned. Hearing rumors that the Conclave were likely going to target their country next, and then his sister falling ill with a disease that could only be cured two ways. Both of them hard.

He’d sent some brave scouts to Zamorka, while he himself searched the streets and prisons of the Undercity for witches. His life had been nothing but long, miserable seriousness. And now this woman, who was around eight years younger than him, seemed to breathe some fresh life back into the household. Even Elicia seemed to like her, though she hid it behind her stern face. Storms… what had life turned him into?

“You may join me for dinner, if you wish,” Meridas said, before he’d quite realized what he just said. He’d invited her. To dinner. Like she was a court lady. Like someone of high status, and someone he took an interest in. He quickly overrode his shock by acting casual. “I’m having a traditional Jarithan dish. Figure you might appreciate the chance to try something a little spicier than your usual selection.”

Whether Alex understood his slip-up or not, he didn’t know. He rubbed the back of his near-bald head, feeling the stubble bristle. Getting longer. Maybe he should let it grow?

“Sure, I guess,” she said. “Is that normal? Inviting servants? It’s just I don’t think you’ve even invited Elicia.”

“I do it all the time,” he lied, feeling like a storming idiot. He now felt determined to make it something he did more often, just to have substance to his words. He wasn’t seriously considering the suggestion of his sister.

“Oh. Okay.” She still had a strange expression upon her face, as if she suspected him of lying, somehow. “I don’t think I’ve tried spicy food before.”

“A new experience for you, then,” he said, excited now at the prospect of showing her something, and then seeing her reaction. He hadn’t felt like that before. She was just there. But then, Vash had planted that accursed idea in his mind, and no matter how much he told himself that no way in sky would it ever happen, the notion refused to shake out of his head. And, well… it did have some merit, the idea, of keeping the prying hands away from his body when he attended court dances and meetings. Or had to sit there and endure the murderous stares of his two divorcees, neither of whom managed to claw at his fortune.

Perhaps dinner with someone would be nicer than sitting there by himself, brooding over the implications of the Creeping Rot returning to the isles.

* * *

So many things to think about. So many things to do. But for once, it felt good to share his meal time with someone other than immediate family members. His bodyguards always took to patrolling the outside, except on storm days like this, when they instead stationed themselves around the house. He didn’t want them getting soaked, and visibility was a nightmare, anyway. Lightning flashed outside his private eating room, next to the main kitchen and servants’ dining hall. He and Alex sat in ornate, purple-cushioned chairs with gold tints along them, and ate on top of an embroidered tablecloth of white with flower patterns over an ancient rectangular table.

She finished extracting her food from the stewing pot and rice bowl, and now stared at her curry, dubious as she sniffed the spices. The sauce that coated the meat and vegetables was a bright, vivid orange. “I’m not sure about this,” she said, lifting a fork that had skewered a piece of meat, watching the orange sauce drip. “This looks poisonous.”

“Nonsense,” he told her happily, already tucking into the food. The spices were expensive in these parts, as they didn’t grow naturally in such rain-drenched country. They had more storms than other places, being situated right upon the coast, with Zamorka on the other side. He’d heard people say that they thought all the storms were a product of wild magic. The spices burned the back of his throat just right, and in his opinion, were mild. He suspected poorer people made do with salt as their main seasoning, given that salt was the one thing they had an abundance of.

One bite later from her, and her eyes watered up from the burning. She coughed after swallowing it, before managing to gasp for water. He couldn’t help but laugh at her suffering, and when she exclaimed, “How in skies are you able to eat that?”

“Practice,” he replied, which was true. He remembered not liking it as a child, but many tasting sessions later, it now settled in his body in a familiar, warm way. “You get used to it over time. For you, since you’ve likely never tried the spices, your taste buds will be overwhelmed with the new flavor.”

“‘Overwhelmed’ is one way of saying it,” she said, dabbing at her wet eyes with a handkerchief. “I don’t think I can eat that. I’d die.”

Summoning the master cook, Richen, Meridas requested for the dish to be milder. Richen didn’t appear too impressed with having his perfect cooking challenged, but he nodded and strode off with her plate, and came back a few minutes later, having used a lighter coconut sauce and added sugar. She managed this new dish with only a slight cough, before telling the cook that it was amazing.

He appeared slightly mollified by that, and his grizzled features smiled briefly, before he bowed himself out.

“Is all the food you eat spicy?” she asked then, picking carefully through the sauce and rice, taking the time to savor the textures. He didn’t bother so much with that anymore. Scarfing the food down allowed him more time to do other things. Now he tried to do the same.

“A lot of it is spicier than normal. Spices are a luxury, though I allow my servants to have some if they want. They prefer blander food, it seems.”

“How… how expensive are these spices?” Alex looked as if she’d be frightened of the answer. Maybe she would.

“It can be five golden circs for a small bottle,” he said, and the color drained out of her face.

“So much money,” she whispered. She stared at her food, appetite dwindling. “You know, five golden circs are enough to feed a family for a long time. You can… you can get a basic stew for two copper circs. That can serve maybe two, three people. It…” she frowned, “this meal costs more than what some people make in a year. What I made in a year.”

Not my fault, Meridas thought. But the gap between their worlds seemed to get wider in an instant, until it became a gulf. Yes… perhaps courting someone from the Undercity was a bad idea. She’d likely put on a pale face like that every time she realized just how much money was being exchanged in the Six Isles. Before the fall, the Seven Isles, he thought with a stab of sadness.

The cost of living was vastly different for them. Maybe her stomach now churned with envy.

Could he blame her? If he could only spend two copper circs for a meal?

“I can’t imagine being you,” he said. “I mean, I was born into a wealthy family. We watch our money a different way, through the taxes we pay, making sure we have enough for those, but obviously it’s a lot more than what you’re used to.”

She nodded, though still looked a little green. “I’m sorry. It’s just… hard to shake off the memory. You know. Being happy because I managed to collect four whole copper circs in one day, because I could have my favorite meal with it. Saving the odd copper here and there in a little jar, until at one point I had eight silver circs’ worth, and that felt like a fortune. Not that it lasted so long,” she said, a bitter smile twisting her mouth. “One of the kids stole it. All of them swore blind they had nothing to do with it, but then one of them turned up with a very nice jacket. Claimed he stole it, but it didn’t take a genius to figure out he likely bought it from some fancy tailor.”

“That seems… short-sighted,” Meridas said delicately. “Eight silver is enough to get you accommodation and other things, right?” He wasn’t sure, but if meals really cost two copper circs, then it stood to reason that other costs wouldn’t be too far off.

“You can rent out some of the smaller houses, fifty copper a month. They’re not anything special. No. I wanted to save up to eventually get my own home. I heard that—you can go to the bank, when you have enough. Get a mortgage. And you can start living in your own home. I wanted… something of my own.”

She fell into silence then, and Meridas understood that sentiment. Even if he didn’t understand the others. “Did you dream of winning the lottery and coming up here?”

“I never put my money in the lottery,” she said. “I heard someone say you have more chance of being struck by lightning several times in a row than getting your numbers and heading to the skies. Thought about it, but it was better to save up my money. I couldn’t afford the lottery if I wanted to do other things.” She picked at her food like a bird. “Bet someone down in the house has found my new secret stash by now. Sixty coppers. Probably bought themselves a new suit.”

“It sounds… every bit as horrible down there as I’d imagine. But even more poor,” Meridas said, after chewing his food some more. It was almost cleaned from his plate, and his appetite had dwindled enough for him not to go for second helpings as he usually did. He wasn’t sure he liked this topic of conversation. It made him uncomfortable, somehow, with his wealth, and he hated feeling ashamed of something that was just normal. “Aren’t there other ways to rise up? Can you marry into a wealthier family?” Of course, he hated the fact that one of his divorcees was particularly grabby.

A rather unladylike snort left Alex in response. “Don’t think anyone would want a woman like me. A lot of us end up getting married before we’re eighteen. Past that, we start being shamefully old. And I’m, what, twenty-four? Uneducated. Come from an area heavy for thieves…”

Meridas didn’t like how she talked about her portion of the Undercity as if she was still there. “That will soon change,” he said curtly, now pushing his empty plate aside. “You have opportunities here that never existed for you before. You are getting educated. And your power—people won’t execute you for it up here. They’ll love you for it. And I intend to make full use of it. And pay you,” he said. He hadn’t actually been giving her a payroll like the other servants. Because he’d whisked her from prison, from lying in a filthy cell to heal his sister. If anything, he’d been paying for her education. But perhaps she needed to feel more like she belonged.

Her eyes glimmered in interest at the mention of payment. “How much would you pay?”

“How does one gold a week sound, for your continued services in healing, and education?”

“That…” Alex said, eyes widening, “is an insane amount of money to me.”

“If you are going to heal,” he said, taking the time to look into those strange green-lit eyes of hers, “you need to cover yourself up. Wear a cloak like those soothsayers you see on the Undercity streets. People must not know it’s you under there.”

“Bit late for that, isn’t it? The doctor saw me in the hospital.”

“He’s one of my doctors. Don’t worry about him. But yes… maybe people will make the association between you going in, and my sister going out.” Hopefully not. “But it’s a little too late for that, now. I—” he hesitated when a knock came to his dining room door. He wanted to snarl at the intruder, because he was sitting here, actually enjoying his conversation with someone and the company offered, and finding the mix of slight guilt and knowledge about her life interesting. “Come in.”

The door creaked open, revealing Elicia. “We got trouble,” Elicia said, her mouth tugged down into a scowl. “Seems your ex has turned up in the storm, demanding entrance. And we’ve had to let her in, as it’d be improper to leave a lady shivering in the dark. Goodness knows what she wants, though.”

“Keraline’s here?” Their court battle had only been five months ago. He assumed she was still avoiding him, or maybe gathering her own lawyers to try and launch a counter-case.

“Not that ex. The other one. Natalie.”

Alex stared between the two of them, eyebrows raised.

“Great,” Meridas said, holding one hand over his face. “Just great.”

Chapter Five – Alex

Glancing to the side, Alex saw the winds somehow seem to pick up. The rain became bigger splotches on the windows, and lightning flashed at more common intervals. As if the sky gods themselves were rebelling against something. Storms somehow seemed scarier up above. On the ground, they had hills and buildings which helped shelter from most of the effects, but up here, even though there was protection, it felt more… exposed, somehow. Like any moment the winds would strike and whip the island away into oblivion. How did it even stay afloat and so stable like this? Shouldn’t there be some big anchor chains attached to them, to stop them drifting away? That made sense, right? She simply didn’t understand.

Even less understood now was the fact that this woman, Natalie, had turned up in the middle of a great thumping storm, practically in tears. Didn’t she have any other shoulder to cry on? They were supposed to be divorced. But now she had to wait as Natalie conferred with Meridas in a separate room. For some reason, jealously ate up the emotions inside her, and created a horrible, pit-like sensation in her stomach.

I have no right to be jealous. I’m just a servant. But she didn’t feel like “just” a servant when enjoying a meal with Meridas. She’d enjoyed his attention upon her, being able to talk, even if perhaps the conversation didn’t cover the best of topics. She liked feeling like someone actually wanted to listen to her and understand. And now, this woman? The mood persisted.

The hallways of the bungalow seemed more haunted and forlorn in the storm, and the orbs filled with light flickered at intermittent intervals. What had Elicia said about those lights? Filled by a witch. Capturing the light of a storm and storing them inside a perfect sphere, so that they never had to worry about mundane light sources such as candles and gas-lit fires. Very few, if any, of these types of light orbs were seen in the Undercity. Likely because if they weren’t nailed down, they’d be stolen. But up here, the amount of them illuminating the bungalow alone felt decadent.

“Won’t be good news,” Elicia said all of a sudden. Alex resisted the yelp of surprise springing to her lips. She still flinched, however. She’d thought Elicia had stormed off somewhere else after smashing Meridas and his ex together.

“I didn’t hear you standing there.”

The matronly woman folded her arms under her chest, lips pruning. “Perhaps you simply weren’t paying attention.” She lapsed into silence for a moment, before continuing with her earlier statement. “Natalie being here isn’t a good sign. She only approaches people if there’s a serious problem she can’t fix.”

“You liked her?” Alex tried to keep the envy out of her voice, wondering why she felt it in the first place.

“Not terrible. But badly suited. Meridas likes to be in control, to organize things. She doesn’t much like listening to people or being controlled. You could call her conceited, I suppose. But she absolutely hates going to people for help.”

“And yet,” Alex said, now standing with Elicia in the main hallway before the kitchen, “here she is.”

“Here she is,” Elicia echoed. “With a problem so desperate that she likely flew in the storm for it.”

Flew in the storm…? “She’s a dragon?”

“Yes.” Elicia picked at a piece of skin under her dark brown hairline. “From a different Island family. Hers is one of the smaller sky towns. Her father had hoped for her to marry up with Meridas. Same with that nightmare of a woman, Keraline.” Elicia’s dark eyes became distant. Alex found herself wondering about the master servant. If she’d been born into this, if she enjoyed serving Meridas more than his father. The lives of those above seemed on one level vastly different… and yet… they still seemed to have petty problems. Seemed the problems didn’t change just because of the location.

“What in skies does she need to go and visit him for?” Company, in the storm. Catching up on old times.

“I can’t be sure, but…” Elicia hesitated, as if unsure whether or not she should divulge the knowledge she had to spare. “Perhaps your ears are good for this. After all, you did cure the young master’s sister. What do you know of the island that fell a couple of decades before?”

“Serpent,” Alex said, the name leaping to mind. What had Narl said? “It was the last island to fall out of the sky for many years. Making the Seven Isles the Six Isles.”

“The version Narl gave you, I see.”

“What other version would he give me?”

Elicia snorted, the wrinkles becoming less pronounced. “Right you are. What’s probably obvious was that the Serpent Isle used to be the main island where the dragon families lived. I’d very recently come into the employment of master Ethan, and I remember when the island suddenly just… tipped.” Her gaze became distant, lost in memory, and Alex listened, eager to pick up details of a past she didn’t yet know.

Of history. Seven weeks ago, she wouldn’t have cared. But now… maybe she was starting to fit in better than she previously thought. She also now picked out the details of aging in Elicia’s features. A woman in her fifties, yet still bustling around, strong. Talking about Meridas’ father, who she used to serve.

“Wait, what?” Alex stopped her brief pacing to stare at Elicia in astonishment. “Meridas came from the fallen island?”

“Yes. Not all the dragons did, but most originated there. They had to be evacuated rapidly to make sure we didn’t lose them all—the children can’t shapeshift, and riding a dragon can be rather… dangerous. Meridas’ mother—she was an air witch—went to the island’s core to try and fix the problem. In the short time I knew her, she was headstrong, determined to save people. Unfortunately, she crashed with the island, and was found dead within its ruins some days later. With green discoloring to her veins.”

Alex couldn’t quite relate to the pain of losing someone close, because she never actually had—but she could at least appreciate that an event like that would hurt for a child who loved. I imagine it would hurt, cut. I imagine if I was a child, and I saw… let’s say it was Mistress Sue who went and died…

Yes. She could conjure up some sympathy. “That thing that affected his sister… it’s the same thing that got his mother? The… same thing that destroyed whatever it was that made the island float?” Obviously, the island needed to float somehow. It was made of magic. So, perhaps the contagion had a way of destroying the thing that made the island float. Perhaps that was why all the islands that fell in the past had collapsed. “So… you think this Natalie came because it has something to do with the contagion?”

“Like I said, I can’t be sure...” Elicia frowned at the door sitting on the far end of the corridor. “But that would be my guess. She knows his sister was ill, and then recovered. He has something that cures it, somehow. She may or may not know of you, if not you personally. I think your life is about to get a lot busier.”

Curing that vile disease. Not something she looked forward to the prospect of doing. She barely managed the one within Vash. If multiple cases started cropping up…

As if on cue, the door at the end opened, and Meridas stepped out, scanning the corridor and seeing them both there. He gestured furiously, and Alex came speeding over, matched by Elicia in stride.

Inside the study, the woman slumped there in her chair, distraught. Her cheeks were puffy with tears, and she looked like a disheveled mess. Pretty, too, despite that, with dark, curly hair, coal-black eyes—her attention turned to Elicia and Alex immediately.

“This is her?” she croaked, looking at Alex.

“Yes,” Meridas said, striding over to Alex and placing a hand on her shoulder. Like he was showing her off as a possession. Alex clenched her jaw, but otherwise focused on Natalie, who looked so prim, so elegant in comparison. This was his former wife?

She couldn’t imagine for the life of her why he’d want to divorce that.

“It’s a vain hope,” she said, her voice trembling from emotion. “I mean, we know what happened the last time this awful thing struck. Our home gone, and people we loved dead. Now it’s coming for our island. It’s come for my mother, and there’s reports that the core is being eaten away by magic. We might need to evacuate. And watch the homes of thousands more fall.” Her expression went from distraught to haughty. “Yet you think this little one here can stop it.”

“I think so,” Meridas said, now squeezing Alex’s shoulder protectively. He met Alex’s gaze and attempted a smile, though it appeared strained. “People need your help, Alex. Will you do this once more?”

Stupid question to ask her. Sure, she hated healing, sure, she protested like a demon, but really, what choice did she have? She could heal. She liked healing. She liked the feeling of saving someone else, because in a way, it made her important. Something more than just a child abandoned by her parents.

Was that enough to die for?

Well, it got her in a jail once. It also sprung her right out of it again. It got her saddled with Meridas, with whom she felt she was just beginning to forge a more meaningful connection. They needed time together. She’d just found out something important and personal to him.

“Of course I will. Just point me in the right way, and I’ll see what I can do.”

Alex’s confidence seemed to bolster Natalie. “Thank you. My mother’s in bed, now. She refuses to go to the hospital, and says it is pointless, anyway. She only allows the non-magical people to tend to her, and we have scribes watching the core, registering how the corruption is spreading. They think it will be several months yet before it falls, unless something changes. Do you think you can cure it?”

“I don’t know,” Alex replied, truthful. “Guess I’ll have to see when I get there.”

* * *

They had to wait until the storm lessened to a murmur and heavy rain before attempting the journey. It was the first time Alex ever got to see Meridas transform, in the gardens of his home. His body undulated from human form, turning a glowing white color, like the orb lights he used to decorate the bungalow, like what he’d carried with him when he first visited her in her cell around two months ago. The end result was a squat, thick dragon with huge, sail-like wings. The dark gray dragon stood on four sturdy legs and had a long, aerodynamic tail that swished like a cat’s. His neck was long, like a swan’s, though a rather deadly swan, it seemed, with razor-sharp teeth lining the inside of his elongated mouth. He must have been three times her height at least, and she finally understood why he never wanted to shift indoors.

Though he could have at least shown her at some point, right?

They always looked so small when she saw them. But of course, they were pretty far away…

He pushed her lightly with the front of his snout, steering her to his wing joint, as he settled down carefully. So… he expected her to just… hop on?

“I’ll ride as well,” Natalie said, now helping to shove Alex on. “I’m used to it. I’ll help you keep your balance.” The rain continued to drizzle on them, and some of it seeped down Alex’s neck, completely ignoring the protective layer of clothing she wore. Useless things.

Natalie’s firm hand eventually helped deposit Alex directly in front of the wing joints and on the base of his collarbone, leading to his neck.

“What the hell do I grip onto?” she said, panicking since she saw nothing but smooth scales in front of her in the gloom of late afternoon, creeping into evening. His neck was too thick for her to fully wrap her hands around.

“You can dig under the scales to the ridges. It won’t hurt him. Like this.” Natalie demonstrated, shoving her hand under his scales, so they bristled up like parrot feathers. “Try it.”

Worrying that despite what Natalie said, she was hurting him, Alex slid her hands under the scales on each side, finding natural ridges to grip onto. Before she’d even established this grip, however, Meridas chose that moment to run forward through the garden, before doing one swooping leap that launched him into the air. They bobbed precariously up and down before they rose, and Alex couldn’t stop herself from screaming in shock. Natalie let out a chuckle at her reaction, and sounded completely relaxed—though if she could transform into a dirty, great big dragon, of course she could feel storming relaxed…

Within a few minutes of Alex feverishly praying that she’d never have to ride a dragon again—because this was horrible and so scary without the sides of a ship to lean onto, or the smooth way ships sailed through the air, compared to the lurching of the dragon, which seemed to use wings to claw through the sky—she managed to calm down enough by closing her eyes to everything, and just focused on the way her fingers gripped the ridges, and the way her legs tightly hugged him.

Eventually, after what felt like forever, her stomach went into a horrible freefall motion as he descended, and her body jarred as he landed onto solid ground.

“See, that wasn’t so bad, was it?” Natalie said, patting her liberally on the shoulder. “You did quite well.”

She had to help peel Alex off, however, since Alex’s limbs had locked up, refusing to move. Apart from the fact that every one of Alex’s limbs had frozen beyond normal function, she found yet another thing she didn’t want to experience again if possible.

They headed down a short stony path with sculptures of trees lining the sides, rather than actual trees, which Alex felt was a waste of a perfectly natural resource. The island floor had a different mosaic pattern than Meridas’. Where that floor showed vibrant shades of gold interspersed with brown and red, this floor was a deep green mixed with white and silver, and the silver threads made her think of rivers flowing in the woods outside the Undercity.

She was ushered into the walls of a far grander house than what Meridas lived in, and Alex thought his was extravagant. At least all of his only had one floor. This one had three floors, and the insides were made mostly of a marbling pattern—which also tended to make the interior feel cold.

It also made her think that she was somehow walking in an opulent, oversized coffin, with how quiet the hallways were, how much space existed, and how little filled it. Finally, they passed some scurrying servants and ascended a spiraling staircase that led to a huge second floor hallway, passing many pictures of storms, dragons, and skyships, before making it into Natalie’s mother’s room. Natalie and Meridas stayed away, and the non-magical servant standing guard over Lady Gadrin’s bed glowered at her from under a set of beetled white eyebrows, old enough perhaps to even be Elicia’s father. The lady herself lay draped in a four-poster bed with a light white canvas screening her from view.

The old servant strode with surprising grace to the door and locked it. She gaped at him for the action, since locking a door implied deception. His face remained blank.

I can’t see who is lying behind the screen, she thought. And Meridas can’t enter because he believes that the person here is sick. And he told me my powers are valuable…

A horrible, suspicious feeling settled in her gut, and refused to go away. She decided to play the fool anyway. “Why did you lock the door… sir?” She gave the servant an innocent smile, rather than a fearful one, though she felt the fear gibbering inside.

“So no one will accidentally be infected, of course,” the servant said in a practiced motion, still showing no change in his features. He also didn’t move from the door, as if planning to block it with his wiry, old body.

“Come, come,” said a weak, trembling voice from the bed. “I have a visitor… yes? Here to say goodbye before I pass from this world…?”

Short of muscling her way past the old man, Alex didn’t see what other option she had. She edged to the bedside—just in case what the old servant said was actually true, and it was only her old street paranoia flaring to life and interfering with her thoughts. I’m sure it’s fine. I’m worrying for nothing. I’ll be fine. Meridas will be fine. Natalie wouldn’t deceive him…

But what did she know about Natalie? Only what Elicia mentioned. That wasn’t enough to describe someone.

“I’m here to help you, miss. Your daughter sent for me. I can help with whatever ails you.”

She couldn’t sense the magic leaping out from her as it did with Vash. Shouldn’t she be able to feel it by now?

“Ah...” she let out a sigh. “You’re the one they talk about who healed Lady Vash, aren’t you?”

“Yes.” Again, Alex glanced to the door, noting that the servant still hadn’t budged. The figure in the bed stirred, and her silhouette sat up before pushing the covers away, revealing a woman with shockingly yellow hair and light green eyes. Alien features.

Cursed features. And no sign of disease upon her.

“So you are from us,” the woman said, eyes examining the lock of yellow in her hair. “I thought it strange to hear about a life witch, so I had to see for myself.” Her smile grew wider, and her attempt at looking friendly fell short. Her angular, sharp face made Alex think of the edge of a knife.

“Who are you?” This couldn’t be Lady Gadrin, as she first surmised. Natalie didn’t have colorings like this.

“Not Gadrin. And oh, don’t look like that. You’ll be fine.” The woman swept imaginary dust off her long sleeves, now standing up to hover almost a foot taller than Alex. “I have a few plans for you, little blood.”

“Where’s Lady Gadrin?” Alex backed away from her, now wishing she’d trusted her instincts.

“Quite dead, I’m afraid. Natalie’s going to be quite sad when she finds out. Oh, don’t look like that. Lady Gadrin was on her way out, anyway. It’s no big loss.”

For Natalie, it was. Unless Natalie was behind all of this. “Is Natalie in on this?”

The woman gave a lazy smile. “What do you think?”

Alex thought about how hysterical Natalie was when she came in the storm. Hard to fake desperation like that. She didn’t say what she concluded, however. “Do you have something to do with Gadrin’s sickness? The island being in trouble?”

“Come, little blood,” the woman said, ignoring her question. “What is your name? I am Xaria.”

Alex clenched her jaw tight, not intending to answer.

Xaria let out a small, exasperated sigh. “Let me see you more closely.” She beckoned to Alex, who instead edged a few inches backwards, still confused. Was this really an elaborate trap to confront her here? This woman and this old, dried-out-looking man had specifically taken over the estate while Natalie rushed for her mother, after, what, poisoning her? How had they known she would rush to Meridas?  Did she still talk about him? Or was it because it was common knowledge, in spite of the effort Meridas put into concealing Alex from prying eyes, that he held onto a white witch?

Her brain clicked through the possibilities, along with a dose of anxiety as well.

“Let’s make this clearer, girl,” Xaria said, voice hardening, green eyes becoming icy chips. “I’m offering you a choice. Either you come with me quietly—and I’m offering this because you are of us, even if your blood is clearly diluted—or you won’t be coming at all. So I’m sure you’ll end up making the right choice.”

“I’m ‘of you’? What, because of the yellow in my hair?” Alex found the statement so preposterous that she couldn’t quite hide all the scorn from her features.

“Yes. You have Zamorkan blood. You have proud, wild ancestry, even if it is tainted. You have ancient magics in your veins, like our people. And so you should be aligned with our cause. It will do well for you, child, to support us. You will find your true destiny. Your calling. Can you feel the connection between us? The blood bond?”

Skies and underthings. This… this was like Narl. He was convinced that being in the skies somehow made you more educated when you knew nothing. And now this woman… thought that having the same blood meant that Alex was just going to fall in line and agree with her. She didn’t even know the woman’s cause. She did feel… something. Some kind of strange buzzing. But it wasn’t enough. “Oh, should I? I’ll just… fall in, like we have some magical bonding going on, right?” Alex’s eyes became slits. The rage tickled at her throat. “In case you forgot, I was abandoned. I know nothing about you people. And now you want me, because you’ve found out I can do something useful?” A thought occurred to her. “Do you actually know my parents, then?”

Xaria picked at her teeth, clearly finding Alex’s insolence annoying. “Unfortunately, not. Otherwise I’d have asked them to tan your hide for your insolent reaction.”

That stick was well and truly up her storming ass. Alex knew the sensible thing would have been to just agree with the woman. She knew if she had any interest in helping Meridas get out of the trap he’d walked into, and in her new life, she should… do the spy thing and just slot in. Find out more about the plans, maybe understand what was going on with the islands, if this woman had something to do with it. Instead, as rage burned inside her, bright and hot, she said, “I owe you nothing. Your people abandoned me. You don’t just get to pick me back up because it’s now convenient. So you can storm right off.”

Face clouding over, Xaria’s patience had worn thin. “Regrettable. If you refuse to join, then you are a problem. Such a shame, little blood. I had high hopes you would feel the bond.”

“You might need to work on your persuasion tactics a bit,” Alex said. “Because I’d say that’s not a talent of yours.”

Magic slammed into Alex out of nowhere, taking the breath out of her lungs. She staggered backwards against the unseen force, eyes wide, and felt the magic vibrating from Xaria. She hadn’t felt it before. How hadn’t she? Now it choked her, stopping her from breathing, and Alex involuntarily clawed at her throat for the air that wouldn’t come. No more words came from Xaria. She seemed intent on finishing Alex off.

Panic made it hard to think. To do anything. But she had to do something—or she’d die. Die, and leave Meridas alone to face this thing. Die, and other people would die as well.

She didn’t… she didn’t like people dying when she could help them. Move! Move it! Storm you, do something! Taking steps forward, she approached Xaria, who stood calm, poised, and confident, clearly not expecting much from Alex.

No one expected much from Alex. They expected her to die in the streets. Her thoughts swirled, and her vision became spotty from the oxygen loss. A few more steps. Xaria made to move out of the way, but Alex changed her movement to a sudden lunge, grabbing onto Xaria and clutching her thin arms tight. Calling her magic to life, Alex felt the barrier of resistance that accessed Xaria’s lifeforce and felt nothing wrong. The picture of health. Except…

Hard to concentrate. Hard to… she didn’t have long. Xaria yelled for assistance, and she tried to shake Alex off, sometimes slapping her in the face. Dazed, Alex found something in her connection. A mass of flickering wires, as if each one was charged with lightning. Like power, coursing through Xaria, fueling her with magic. All those connections originated at a spot in Xaria’s brain.

Alex stabbed at that spot, piercing the barrier that separated her. The magic wasn’t a natural state, it could—it could be turned off. And it healed the body, because excess magic harmed it.

The choking effect immediately vanished. Alex gasped as she was torn off Xaria by the surprisingly strong servant, and Xaria’s perfect green eyes were wide in horror.

“What did you do?” She glared at Alex in hatred, in terror. “What did you do?”

Alex struggled in the man’s grasp, and managed a few screams for help at last. Couldn’t do that without the proper use of her lungs. She didn’t even know if Meridas and Natalie were free, if Natalie was a traitor, if they were dead somewhere—but yelling seemed like a great idea.

“You stole my magic! You stole it!” Xaria sounded hysterical, crazed with loathing. “How dare you! You little witch!” All her calm, confident posing from earlier was gone, leaving the true personality, the one that her mask always hid. Alex managed a few more screams, before being slammed against the wall, consciousness winking out of her.

Chapter Six – Meridas

One charge later, Meridas slammed the door open, his shoulder throbbing from the effort. Just in time to see Alex crumpled up by the wall, and a blonde-haired woman who looked nothing like Lady Gadrin, stopping mid-sentence in her demands to turn panicky, hateful eyes upon Meridas.

“Zamorkan,” Meridas spat, wishing he had a weapon on him. The woman managed a sneer, before Meridas prioritized the old man lifting a chair to pummel Alex with, and they fell together in a thrashing frenzy. He wanted to shift, but there wasn’t that much room—he didn’t want to hurt Alex any further than she already was. Storms… her screams. They came out of nowhere, and chilled his blood. He’d been sitting nearby with Natalie, both of them unable to carry much conversation, because Natalie clearly fretted about her mother, and Meridas, well… thought about Alex.

Natalie inched into the room, and she froze, mouth open, staring at the woman who stood in place of her mother in the bedroom.

“Who are you?” Natalie’s voice trembled. “What did you do to my mother?”

No answer came. The clutter of noise and dull pain going through Meridas’ body, he finally managed to subdue the older man, who let out a strange hissing sound as Meridas twisted his arm behind his back. Natalie had yelled for her servants, but no one came.

At this point, Alex stirred, rubbing her head as she eased herself upward, taking a few great gulps of breath. “Need to,” she said, her voice a rasp, “get out. Can’t trust anyone.” Her eyes slid to Natalie.

“You two better get out now,” Natalie said, anger gleaming in her eyes. Wordlessly, Meridas seized Alex, hauling her to her feet. The older man crawled to his feet just as Meridas closed the door on them, Alex in his arms.

A growling rose as if emerging from the underworld, and a few screams penetrated the walls. There were thumps, vibrations, as if something big and heavy was attacking the estate—and then silence.

Natalie emerged from the room and shut it. But not before Meridas caught a glimpse of red on the floor. “They won’t be bothering us again,” she said. Her expression then became more worried. “Come to think of it, I didn’t see the servants’ faces when I came in. This place is quiet. Too quiet.”

“I think it’s all been compromised,” Alex said quietly. She was rubbing her throat, hazel eyes lost in thought. “I don’t understand what they thought they were going to achieve. They were waiting for me in the room. They thought I’d somehow convert to their cause. I don’t get why they just didn’t kidnap me and force it. Or, like, approach me and persuade me themselves.”

“They wanted you?” Natalie examined Alex for a moment. “No, of course they did. Your magic is valuable.”

“To be fair,” Meridas said, though he wasn’t completely following what was going on, aside from the fact a Zamorkan was standing there instead of Lady Gadrin, “you have essentially never left my home since coming here, and we haven’t hired new servants in a while. You’re a hard one to reach.”

“But why did she think I would convert?” Alex shook her head. Natalie strode off, beckoning for them both to follow, and Meridas and Alex obliged. “She just assumed… because...” she tapped at her hair. “I’m part Zamorkan. Does that mean I’m a demon? Aren’t Zamorkans demons?”

Meridas gently pushed Alex to move faster. He felt grimly satisfied that Natalie had dealt with the matter in the way she did, even if it meant that they couldn’t exactly find out the motivations behind the woman’s actions. “Let’s get somewhere safe. And no, you’re not a demon.”

They approached a back entrance, one he remembered using with Natalie once a long time ago, when they wanted some privacy in an overcrowded manor. Outside, the weather seemed to be picking up again, turning from drizzle to a new storm. They followed Natalie by foot, shivering in the darkness and the howling wind, until reaching a small house some ten minutes later. The journey left them all drenched and cold, and they huddled together after Natalie dug into the stone for a key hidden in a carefully concealed pattern and let them inside. Everything was contained in one room—kitchen, living room, bed, and a concealed bathroom, visible once Natalie activated the orb holders inside. She knelt down and handled the fireplace, while Alex and Meridas stood nearby, waiting to warm themselves up.

All of them felt the gloom and despair of the place, especially with the storm picking up again. Meridas himself struggled to wrap his head around what had happened. Where was Lady Gadrin? How had it gone from them attempting to help Natalie out to hiding in a small shack of a home?

“I hadn’t visited my mother’s mansion for a while,” Natalie whispered, as flames caught to the kindling from her spark made with steel and flint and a light puff of air. “And when I found out she was dying, I came, but was stopped by an old man at the entrance, who told me it was unsafe for anyone with magical blood to come inside. He said that they were trying to make my mother’s last hours as comfortable as possible. And he wished that Lord Meridas would consider sending help over. And when I pressed him, he told me of the miracle that healed Lady Vash.” Natalie remained crouched by the fire, her blue clothing seeming forlorn as it clung to her body with dampness. “He made me think it was urgent, that everything hinged on the balance of persuading you to not be so selfish and keep this miracle to yourself.” Now she held her hands to the flames. “I didn’t think it through so well, did I?”

Alex, who had been staring listlessly at the stone floor, replied, “You were worried. And you thought she was close to dying. And then you were offered a solution. They do tactics like that in the streets, lady. Nothing better to prey on than desperation.”

Meridas huddled closer to Alex, feeling squeezed by the moods of the two women, as well as an awful, encroaching helplessness. He should have been more suspicious. He should have refused. But… Natalie had been in tears, scared her mother was close to death’s door. And… how could he refuse that? How could anyone? Regardless of whatever past had been soured between them. At least she didn’t try to bleed him out of every circ like Keraline did. They just… genuinely believed they weren’t suited. Though there had been a lot of anger and tears, a lot of accusations flung his way. He still remembered Natalie throwing a brass clock at him as he ducked through a door, when he’d accused her of being too controlling when she should have been happy to give up the reins once in a while.

She didn’t have a great control over her temper. As was proven yet again when she chose to lash out and kill the people in that room, instead of seizing them to interrogate. Not that they could have gotten far if the mansion was infested with the enemy. With Zamorkan sympathizers. Who wanted their hands on Alex.

“Is the island infected?” he asked then, aware it might sound like an accusation towards her. “If this was the man who told you about it… then could you have been lied to?”

“The infection was happening before my mother,” Natalie said. “That was why it was easy to… to make the leap. I don’t know what to do.”

“Feed us,” Alex said, now rubbing herself in front of the freshly blazing fire. “Rest. No more going out in the storm. Just… calm down. Decide what we’ll do next.”

No argument countered Alex’s words. The woman somehow seemed far more mature than before. Meridas considered options, and all of them focused on one thing.

The Conclave of Zamorka had made it to the Six Isles.

And, for whatever reason, they halted in their plans long enough to try and include Alex in them. They had thought her important enough to risk converting, even without access to Meridas’ home. And they were certain she would convert. Why?

A horrible suspicion edged in him. What if this was all part of an elaborate plan, somehow? What if she was converted? Maybe they didn’t expect to die at Natalie’s jaws. Maybe they wanted to make it look like Alex was actually with them, when in reality, she wasn’t.

He hadn’t researched far into her parents but knew enough that she likely didn’t come from any of the exiled families. Which led to one thing. That she came completely from the enemy.

“I can’t believe that Xaria thought I’d follow her,” Alex said, hugging herself. The flames contrasted with the white light of the orbs, making her shadows dance on the floor. “Like they think they can just scoop me up after leaving me to die on someone’s doorstep. Like I wouldn’t develop friendships or alliances with other people. They mean nothing to me. Nothing...”

It sounded like she was trying to convince herself. As if she was afraid that something inside her would change. In that instant, his worries tumbled aside. No. She wasn’t trying to deceive him. This was genuine.

“I don’t know a lot about their values,” Meridas said, now daring to wrap an arm around her shoulders. Natalie glanced but said nothing. Her eyes were rather red. Meridas knew why. She thought her mother had been killed. So did he. No way would that woman allow her estate to fall into someone else’s hands. She’d die resisting to the end. Sad but true. He continued with what he intended to say to Alex. “But I do know that Zamorkans have a different concept of family. They believe strongly in blood ties. So I imagine they thought the blood tie would be enough for you. But of course, you were never exposed to the culture. So how would you know?”

Alex nodded, leaning into his touch slightly. His heart pulsed a tiny bit faster, enjoying the feeling of someone leaning against him, as if relying on him. It felt good. And as for it being Alex…

Well, he could think of worse people. Of course she wasn’t a traitor…

“There must be more to my powers than I thought,” Alex whispered then. “For them to want to risk speaking to me. I’m able to heal the Creeping Rot. I’m also… there was something else. I took away the woman’s magic, somehow. I felt it as something harming her, and was able to seal it up, so she no longer could access it. That was why she started acting as she did.”

Stealing magic? Meridas resisted the impulse to snatch his arm away from her, although he couldn’t stop the irrational thought. “Is this true? You managed this?”

“Yes.”

Natalie cleared her throat, drawing attention towards her. “Magic always has more to it. An air witch doesn’t only help with the currents. She doesn’t just have a sensitivity to the magic of the stones that keep our islands floating. She also can manipulate the weather if strong enough, as well as the temperature, and fly without the use of a ship.”

Alex appeared lost there. “I wish someone could teach me.”

“It’s okay,” Meridas said, now wrapping both his arms around her, giving Alex the opportunity to bury her face into his shoulder. She did so, and he relished the sensation of having someone close. Maybe not in the best of circumstances, but it made him realize that somewhere, he wanted this.

He wanted Alex.

Now was probably not the best time to mention such a thing, however. Natalie began rummaging through the cupboards under the faucet, eventually pulling out tins. Only a few decades old, since they started manufacturing steel in earnest, but those tins contained a wealth of food.

Not very fitting for people of their status, however, but Natalie had always been pragmatic.  As she worked on cooking the tins of tomato soup, Meridas and Alex took the opportunity to use the bathroom separately, washing themselves down and changing into spare, dry sets of clothes, hanging their coats and old ones up to dry, leaving puddles underneath them. With a small start, Meridas realized the clothes he’d been given were ones he’d worn years back. Apparently she’d kept them. This scruffy-looking blouse with a button missing from the top, white and rough against his skin, and the black pants, made of a similar, comfortable material. Alex now wore a yellow nightdress with pants underneath which were slightly too big for her, but she’d insisted on wearing more than a “horrible” dress. Her underwire brassiere clearly underlined the flimsy material, and Meridas tried hard not to stare too much.

What these people needed, he thought, was direction. A purpose. Alex didn’t seem to trust herself. Maybe she didn’t trust Natalie, either, with how Natalie responded to the Zamorkans. As for Natalie… she clearly needed a direction, and fast. Before she did something rash.

Sitting around a small rounded table, slurping at their soups as a new storm wailed outside and the fireplace worked hard to keep them all warm, he pushed with his plan to rally them together.

“Let’s talk about what we’re going to do when the storm abates. When we’ve rested. Should we go and ask for help from any of the other islands? Do you want me to contact my father and throw in aid? Do you need shelter, Natalie?”

The dragon woman barely touched her soup, though Alex devoured it with enthusiasm. “I might need time to move the assets out of my home,” she said, doing a thousand-yard stare at the distant wall. Planning for disaster. “And perhaps I’ll need to become a refugee once more. I’ll need to investigate what happened to my mother...” She took a few deep breaths, fighting back emotion. “And then take it from there.”

One more slurp later, Alex lifted her clean spoon in the air. “Aren’t we still going to look into this island core or whatever to see if it can be cured?” She flushed slightly at the attention of them both. “I mean, I thought that was the original plan. Help your mother, and then go and inspect the core, see if we can do something about whatever’s influencing it.”

“That was before we discovered Zamorkan saboteurs on the island,” Natalie snapped. “Likely they’re the ones doing it, spreading their disgusting magic and destroying everything. It’s that Conclave of Zamorka at it again. Just like in Jarithas.”

There was a small pause, before Alex said, “Well, can’t we… stop them?” Her elbow now rested against the wooden table. One eyebrow was raised. Natalie let out a small, derisive laugh.

“No magic user would want to be within a thousand miles of the Creeping Rot if they suspected it. And I don’t see non-users exactly lining up for the job.”

“Yeah, I’m hearing nothing but excuses,” Alex said, voice suddenly flat, expression falling into stone. “Look, I don’t know about you, but I still intend to look at this magic rock and see what’s up. After I’ve had sleep, of course.” She finished off her soup by lifting the bowl up and tipping the liquid into her mouth. “You think this Creeping Rot is Zamorkan or whatever?”

“Yes,” Natalie said, while Meridas said, “No.”

Now both women looked at him.

“The Zamorkans are just as afraid of the Creeping Rot as any other magic user,” Meridas said. “They wouldn’t be above using an opportunity when presented to them, but I don’t think the Rot is them. I mean, I considered it… but really, they could have sabotaged us long before with it if they had control. We’ve had issues with them in the past.”

Silence remained between them for a few moments. The wind created an odd, moaning noise that caused the hair on the back of Meridas’ neck to prickle. Something about the darkness and the wind and lightning made him think of how it might be to witness the end of the world. Maybe it would be like this, all storms and cold and dark. Maybe they’d all be huddled together, eking food out of tins and contemplating nothing but bad choices.

Although he wasn’t completely off-put by the company. Elicia would be a nice addition—she’d find a way to scrape a delicious meal out of nothing, to bring assurance when he himself felt very little. He didn’t think there was anything wrong with his statement, but the women’s silence went on a little too long.

“Yeah,” Alex said, no longer making him feel like he’d somehow done something wrong. “That makes sense. Not that I know much about the history other than what Narl’s said. That woman—she was horrified when I took her magic. I doubt she’d want to be involved in anything that targeted her specifically because of her magic.”

Natalie regarded Alex, drumming her long, sharp nails on the table. Alex stared hopefully at the soup, until Natalie pushed it towards her. “Okay, witch. You can go and check out the core when you can. I’m not coming with you, but I can entrust some of my non-magical servants to you to help take you down there. If you can cure it, then you’ve saved thousands of people from needing to lose their homes or potentially dying from the Rot. I, in the meanwhile, will continue my investigations into these Zamorkans,” she spat, anger flashing in her dark eyes. “I’ll make them pay,” she whispered.

Alex bore an expression upon her face that was the visual equivalent of “calm down, lady,” and Meridas’ lips twitched in a partial smile. The first real one he’d experienced in the last few hours. “You’ll have your vengeance, I’m sure,” Meridas said. “But first, we need to sleep.”

* * *

Waking up, there was something warm and solid tucked beside his body. It fit snugly, with his knees cradling the rear and back thighs, and the figure’s legs running down the rest of the way.

Recognition came back, and he registered the figure as Alex. Her hair tickled his chin, and one of his arms was draped over her stomach. Warmth radiated from every part of them that touched under the sheets. Trickles of sunlight came into the open room, illuminating the start of a new, stormless day. He made to move out of bed, then decided outside the covers was too cold, and resigned himself to staying locked to Alex’s body. It was soft, and warm. Her hair smelled like Natalie’s favorite shampoo, some floral scent he never bothered to find out the name of. Masked by that was her natural scent, something that made him think of wet soil and the aftermath of a storm.

Or maybe that was just the scent coming from outside. Either way, he closed his eyes, enjoying breathing in her fragrance and the sense of her warmth. He wouldn’t mind staying in this position for a while. Just to close his eyes and focus on the bundle of warmth and life spooned by him. And probably not to think too hard on the fact that his hips were in a slightly suggestive position, leaving him quite free to—and there it was. He quietly moved himself so that she wouldn’t have to experience his erection now happily rising to the occasion—but his own movement caused her to stir and awaken, breaking the tranquility.

His hand still managed to remain on her, however, and she took note of it sleepily as she turned over and tilted her head to look into his eyes with her own. It took her several more seconds, it seemed, to register that she was in bed with Meridas next to her, and her eyes widened slightly.

“Oh, right. I remember,” she said. “I said I was cold, right?”

“Yes. And I was going to sleep on the floor, and Natalie on the sofa bed she had—but you provided me a great opportunity to have some more comfort in the night.”

Examining the floor, she shrugged. “Well, I can’t blame you. I’d want to take any excuse possible to sleep in a bed as well.”

Thankfully, she didn’t seem to notice his erection, so he got away with that potential embarrassment. But the way her eyes now caught a couple slices of sunlight, making them a brilliant green—they were both beautiful and eerie at the same time. Green eyes just weren’t natural. He preferred hers when they were darker—but still, he could appreciate everything about her in that moment. He wasn’t that discriminating.

“Our first time sleeping together,” he said, raising an eyebrow to complete the image he wanted to give off. To her credit, she only flushed slightly, before smiling back.

“Let’s hope it’s the first of many. I could do with a nice heat generator on those cold nights.”

“You could, could you?”

“Sure. I mean, it’s not like a certain lord would want to target anyone below his station… right?”

Okay, she was steering this from light to heavy in an eyeblink. He processed her words, his own emotions floating. How exactly did he feel about the situation? He knew somewhere he’d been getting more attracted to her than initially expected. He knew he wanted more times like the little games they played together on a quiet afternoon, taking him from the stress and worry of everyday life. He knew his father would pop a vein when finding out about Alex…

But since when did his father’s opinion really matter?

He’d ignored it the first two times with his wives. Sure, those relationships didn’t exactly work out, but they’d all been his choices. He did feel a vague sense of guilt in that maybe he should start respecting his father’s decisions a little more… but his father didn’t particularly care about anything that didn’t benefit him in some way.

To storms with it. “Who says you’re below my station? Who says that you’re inferior? Not me.”

“You remember saying that you didn’t care if I died, right?” Her eyes became glints. “And I was treated as a servant to be used.”

The conversation now suddenly felt like it was running away from him, and he adjusted himself nervously under the bedsheets. “And that was exactly how I felt at the time,” he said, deciding to be brutally honest. “You meant nothing to me. I needed to find someone to save my sister. And you were a tool—a means to that end.” He swallowed the lump in his throat. “It was only after I stopped needing to worry about my sister that I could think a little clearer. I could start being nicer to you. Grateful to you. But I didn’t think anything much on it, until...”

“Until Vash planted the idea in your head that we’d be a couple?” Alex’s lips twisted into a smile, but it didn’t seem particularly warm. There was something bitter behind it.

“Well… yes. But it was more like...” How to say this…? “It was more like she made me realize that my, uh… goodwill towards you might actually be a little more than just goodwill. And then when I realized that, it started invading my head. Didn’t want to go away.”

The smile on Alex’s face softened, and her eyes became thoughtful. “Oh. That makes sense.” She seemed rather mollified by his answer, and he breathed a silent sigh of relief. “I mean, I’m still not happy about the start of everything… but I suppose I can hardly expect anything else. I do hate you for one thing, though. Narl.”

“What’s he been doing?” Meridas said with a smirk, feeling wonderfully light for some reason.

“He’s just a terrible teacher. He keeps expecting me to know things that I obviously don’t know. I wanted to tell you about him before, but you seemed busy, and I guess I didn’t want to draw more attention to myself than needed.”

“He’s supposed to be one of the best tutors in the isles!”

“He’s probably okay if you’ve been born and raised in the isles,” Alex said wryly. “He’s just very bad at teaching people who don’t have the knowledge he thinks they should have.”

“Hmm.” He stroked his chin thoughtfully, trying to see if her words made sense. He supposed Narl was a little fixed in his ideas of how the world worked. And the man had never seen a single poor person in his life, as he was usually educating children of the lords. They normally got other servants to train those lucky enough to win the lottery or to be scooped up for whatever reason. “I suppose I can find someone else to continue your education.”

“Please. Anyone but him.”

“It’s a deal.” He lifted his hand from her at last, feeling a small thrill of happiness that he’d been allowed to touch her for so long, and she hadn’t pushed him away. A good sign.

“Come to think of it,” Alex said, now getting up into a sitting position on the bed, looking around, “where is Natalie?”

He looked as well, and realized with a small jolt that Natalie was nowhere. The bathroom door was open, and she clearly wasn’t in there. She’d left. Was there a note? Did she leave one behind? His eyes settled on a piece of parchment upon the table. Yes. There.

“She’s left us a note...” he finally clambered out of bed, a little upset that he had to leave the heat of the bedcovers, though glad to be rid of his erection, and strode over to where the sheet was. He intended to read it out loud for her benefit, but she asked if she could try. He handed it to her, and her fingers made the paper shake as she began to falteringly read.

Meridas and Alex,

Gone to get my servants. Shouldn’t be any longer than two hours. (Time is about six now.) You know where the food is. I suggest wrapping warm—it gets cold when you approach the center of the island.

Natalie

She finished and looked at him, surprised, apparently, to have not been interrupted.

“It was good reading,” he said. “You said everything right. Just need to speed up a little and know where the natural pauses are.” He winked at her, and she grinned.

“Finally, I’m getting somewhere with this reading thing.”

“It’s about seven forty now,” he said, checking the brass, cog-work clock that ticked incessantly upon the wall above the sofa bed. He wondered vaguely how Natalie had managed to sleep under that. Or maybe she didn’t sleep at all. “So… twenty minutes to eat and dress.”

“You do the food. I’ll dress,” she said, immediately starting to rifle through clothes. Not seeing anything wrong with the suggestion, he took out two more tins, this time of chicken soup, and lit the stove once more. The fire by now had burned to cinders, with only two tiny, red spots left among the ashes. They kept up a stream of conversation doing their activities. Little topics that edged into aspects of their past. How he felt about Natalie, for example, seemed to be one.

“She’s a good woman, but we don’t really… get along that well. Too headstrong, I suppose. That appealed to me at first, but… no, I wouldn’t want to go through that again.” He sniffed at the soup inside the pot, impatient for it to heat up.

“You still remain in contact, all the same?”

“Not really. This is the first time she’s visited in years. And I understand why. I did have a miracle healer in my employ, after all.” Which reminded him… “Speaking of that, I believe I owe you a gold circ or two. I’ll arrange for those to be delivered to your rooms later. Once we get through all of this.”

She beamed at him, before wrestling on a baggy top. “I’m thinking of using the money to get a few games, and maybe secure a trip down to the Undercity to give Mistress Sue a visit. She’s the woman who helped raise me up. She’s not a perfect person, but I wouldn’t be alive if it wasn’t for her. So I’d like to get her some things. She’s been complaining about her bad cooking utensils for ages… I thought I’d give her a brand-new, cast-iron cauldron and a few more pots and pans. Cauldron’s the best for feeding many people at once, you can make enough soup or stew in one for everyone...” she trailed off, looking wistful. Hastily, he turned back to the chicken soup, peeling off one burned bit with the wooden stirring spoon.

“That sounds… nice of you.”

“I won’t forget where I came from,” she said then, softly. “But neither will I forget to be grateful for the fact that I’m here now. With you.”

His heart did a crazy leap. ‘With you’ sounded awfully like she was admitting she liked him. In the kind of way he wanted to be liked.

“I get that,” he said, now lifting the soup off the stove, turning the stove off, and preparing bowls to pour it into. “I won’t forget where I came from, either. I was only a little boy, but I remember the island I was growing up on. Dragons above us in the skies every day. Great roosting places the dragons liked to go on, and a manor even grander than the one my father lives in. My mother would be training other air witches… she’d sometimes show off her powers...” he smiled at the long-ago memories, now tinted with a small sadness. “I like my new home, of course, and miss the old one…”

“I can’t imagine that,” she said softly, approaching him and taking her now-filled soup bowl. “Losing your home and having to live in another one. I never lost mine, so to speak. I might have been imprisoned to die, but my home was still there, you know?”

“Yeah,” he said, after a silence stretched between them. They cleaned up, both got dressed, occasionally talking, but with the tension increasing between them, somehow. Until Meridas wanted something to change. To snap. He wanted to convert those open eyes of hers to closed as he kissed her soft, inviting lips. Was it so wrong for him to want this? Even though it probably wasn’t the most appropriate of times to approach her? To storms with it.

Midway through a sentence she was dredging up for the excuse of conversation, he grabbed her by the shoulders and drew her into a kiss.

She wasn’t expecting it at all. Her eyes widened in astonishment, and her body stiffened at his touch. The materials of their outfits scratched together, and for one horrifying moment, Meridas thought he had massively screwed up. Right until the point where she began to kiss back.

Chapter Seven – Alex

Pouring herself into the kiss, her eyes closed and she shut out the voice in the back of her head screaming that this was stupid. His lips were hot and pleasant, and the amount of fabric between them was disappointing, to say the least. She wanted so much more. She wanted to rip these silly clothes off and yank him over to the bed, so they could experience exactly what a man and a woman were capable of together.

Except, of course, that was the time Natalie chose to return. She knocked, forcing Alex and Meridas to spring apart in a startled manner, and Natalie entered with two men standing behind her, heavily cloaked against the light rains now falling, despite the sunlight.

“Here’s my servants,” Natalie said, not noticing anything between them, or choosing to ignore it. Her dark eyes did linger on Meridas for a moment, though, one eyebrow raised. So, she probably suspected. If not saw.

Alex avoided eye contact with Meridas the whole time they prepared, and then they left for their journey to the core on a strangely empty island. Which Natalie said was due to evacuations going on to make sure no one would be caught wrong-footed when the island eventually toppled. Some people still clung to their homes, however, refusing to accept that they were falling. Her heart did some crazy lurches all the while, as she attempted to process the kiss from earlier. A kiss that very much told her that Meridas liked her in a way that meant he planned to do horizontal things with her.

So it seemed he’d made his choice.

And Alex? She examined the feelings inside as they walked across rough stone, trying not to slip. What did she want? For she was still adapting to her new life in the clouds. Still coming to grips with her magic, wishing she had someone to teach her about it. And she didn’t know if it was wise to allow the kiss to happen, to accept it.

But skies, did she want it.

“We’re here,” Natalie said, stopping outside an unassuming door with the pattern of a blue spiral carved upon it. “This will lead to the catacombs where the core is. And I’m not going to follow any farther. Good luck.” She gave Meridas and Alex brief hugs, before whispering into Alex’s ear, “Take care of him. Okay?”

Before Alex had time to respond, Natalie stepped away and began transforming into her slate-gray dragon, and buffeting them with her wings as she took to the skies.

Alex was left to ponder the lady’s statement, but only briefly, as the door opened in front of them, and they descended a sloping tunnel. The two servants didn’t introduce themselves by name and didn’t speak at all, except to beckon, which made Alex wonder if they’d taken a vow of silence or something.

Something about the silence unnerved Alex and made her twitch at unexpected noises. She dreaded to think what might be discovered at the heart of this island—if it might be some monstrous version of the virus she sensed in Lady Vash, one that didn’t let go until the last flicker of life in its host went out.

Suddenly she didn’t want to be here anymore. But… she’d promised. And people were in danger of losing their homes. Why back off when she had the ability to help?

Why does it have to be me, though? Why do I have to do it? Out of all the people who might have been born with this stupid power, it was her. She could think of plenty of people who’d use it selfishly, for profit. Skies, she’d considered it herself. Pretending to be some quack healer on the streets, foisting off her ability as potions, but that still led to the possibility of her being accused as a witch. Seemed people wanted magic powers to be healed, but when they showed up, people decided, actually, they’d prefer the magic person to be executed, as they messed with the natural order of things.

The tunnel grew colder, but not darker, as light orbs locked in holders illuminated the way. Alex appreciated the clothing she’d been encouraged to wear. She also deeply appreciated Meridas being behind her, but… now wondered if this was wise. He would be in danger, surely. But she was too selfish to ask him to leave, because she didn’t want to be alone.

It changed to wider, labyrinthian passages all too soon, going through a confusing, unclear set of paths which Alex was certain she’d have gotten lost in, before they reached what appeared to be a huge antechamber, with a glimmering stone somehow floating and crackling with energy in the very center, spinning at a gentle pace. But of course, the impossibility was that a huge lump of rock could help make a whole island float at all. Tendrils of energy seemed to stretch from the hoverstone like chains, fueling the rocky ceiling and floor beneath.

“We have these at the heart of every island,” Meridas said, since the servants did not appear inclined to say anything. “I don’t know how it works myself, but this is how an island floats. Inside is a kind of tempest within the rock itself. A magical energy that cushions the whole island. There have not been new islands for centuries, so we’re uncertain what it takes to make one.” He stayed at a careful distance from everyone else, arms folded, eyes roving for potential dangers. Alex also felt an incessant thirsting for her magic, though faint, and the hairs on the back of her neck prickled. Yes. The disease was here.

“I’m more interested in why people thought it was important to make floating islands in the first place,” Alex said. In her mind, she saw wealthy, gluttonous people huddled together and rubbing their hands gleefully as they came up with a way to separate themselves from the filth of the poor. What better way to show off their status and remind the poor of their place than to have huge islands blotting out the skies above?

“Who knows? There could be a number of reasons. But do you sense… illness? I don’t see any.” And he was clearly afraid to come any nearer.

The servants stood wordlessly, heads bowed, hoods shadowing their faces. They didn’t respond when prompted, which Alex found odd and awkward. They did respond to instructions, though, and Meridas got them to point out where the corruption was supposed to be. A small blob of discoloring, where the blue was lighter than usual, which made Alex wonder if it was the same disease. Or maybe it affected living hosts differently.

In the luminous antechamber, the orbs surrounding it within the dome-like room revealed patterns carved into the arching walls that looked like language, but nothing Alex recognized. The squiggles themselves seemed to have a faint glow, as if the writing was somehow alive. Was the writing linked to the hoverstone? Did it glow because it was all connected?

There was just so much she didn’t know. Didn’t understand. It made her feel small, insignificant, a child playing at magic when she barely even understood why she could utilize it in the first place.

No one prompted her, but she approached the source of floating, feeling the lusting for her magic grow the nearer she got. The light spots upon the stone swirled violently, and the servants now shuffled away, not willing to be at the epicenter of whatever occurred.

It’s… stronger, she thought, fear bubbling inside. Had that woman pretending to be Natalie’s mother known about this? Did she have answers? Would she have shared them?

All too late. I have no idea what I’m doing. I have no real training. This is suicide, surely. I was just lucky before.

Something flitted before her. A darkness that stirred. She froze in blank horror, waiting for movement. After a few seconds, she thought she saw shadows coalesce. No, she definitely saw—the shadows bubbled upward from the ground in front of her, forming the vague, translucent shape of a human. The form became clearer, until with a jolt of awe and fear, the figure became solid enough for them to all witness a red-haired, green-eyed woman with light brown robes covering her body. A soft nose and rounded chin helped give the impression of an ageless beauty, and the eyes were hooded, heavy and sad.

“Zamorkan witch!” Meridas spat. Alex didn’t dare look back at him, since she didn’t want to take her eyes off the woman—who seemed to have attention exclusively for her. She said nothing, but the sadness radiated from her.

“Relax,” one of the servants whispered at last. “This is a well-documented phenomenon. This woman always appears when a stone is in danger of failing.”

“It’s the first I’ve heard about it,” Meridas said.

“Who are you?” Alex whispered, feeling an odd kinship with the woman. Something that clicked inside just right, like somehow, she should have known this woman before.

And just like that, answers began teasing themselves into her mind, though the woman never spoke. It was like clouds had parted in Alex’s thoughts, revealing the information tucked within.

The Zamorkan woman who had yelled about a blood bond—it did have basis.

Somehow, Alex knew that all Zamorkans alive today had descended from this woman. And that those with a stronger blood heritage than Alex could sense a kinship just like she did now with the red-haired… ghost? Was it a ghost? Alex sensed she’d been dead for a long time.

A very, very long time…

The suggestion of thousands of years tumbled against Alex’s consciousness, but her brain couldn’t wrap itself around the concept. The ancient ghost held up her robed arms so that the sleeves rolled back. Green, twisting veins revealed themselves, and another impression worked itself out in Alex’s mind.

This ancient ghost was slowly but surely dying. And even Alex’s magic couldn’t cure her. In addition, her magic could not help the rock. This island would be gone in months. As for the woman…

If she died, then the disease would be unleashed in full.

She had…

She had sacrificed herself eons ago. To stop something fundamentally destructive to magic and life forms. She had become a container that held it. But the container eroded over time. And with each breakthrough of this disease, magic suffered. Stones lost their power. People died. Ley lines and places of magical power in the world diminished, and the magical creatures such as dragons died out.

“We have seen this woman before,” the raspy-voiced servant continued. “She always appears when a stone becomes ill. But she does not talk. We are studying why she appears in relation to the illness.”

They… Alex thought, with shock. They can’t feel the message. They don’t sense this information.

Only Zamorkan heritage could sense the message. And it wasn’t like Zamorkans were popular people up here.

“She does not harm us, but she has shown her arms before like this. There were mentions before, when many of the stone islands fell, that she appeared as well. But her arms were not covered in green back then.”

The woman went to place a hand upon the stone, on the infected spot. More knowledge flooded Alex, before she faded away.

“Gentlemen,” Alex said, now backing away from the stone. “I know who she is. And I know what’s happening.”

Chapter Eight – Meridas

Safely inside the bungalow again, Meridas watched as Alex repeated her information to the gathered scholars there for probably her sixth retelling. When word came that someone knew why the red woman haunted the stones, all the scholars and teachers came begging to hear Alex’s story firsthand.

The stone remained uncured. Natalie’s mother remained missing, and the Conclave of Zamorka were ever prominent, with hints of them operating in the Undercity. More people were evacuating from Natalie’s island, preparing for the inevitable.

And Alex, that strange woman with the blonde lock in her hair, who could understand the message locked behind something old and long gone… he felt a cold shiver at the thought that if she’d gone ahead and touched the stone to heal it, as was their original intention—the effort would have killed her.

“This contradicts the Ruthar Chronicles,” one of the yellow-robed scholars was saying in Meridas’ study. Two dozen of them were crammed up, scribbling notes with a kind of frantic urgency to absorb knowledge. “They state that the woman is a harbinger of doom, that she must be a curse sent over from the ancient Zamorkan witches to bring us low. But you’re saying that this witch is actually protecting us and has been trying to warn us all this time.”

“Yes,” Alex said, arms folded, clearly uncomfortable with all the attention afforded her. She used his desk as a barrier from the other people. Meridas himself sat in his favorite purple-lined armchair with a book clasped in his hands. “But obviously, you’re not really on friendly terms with people from Zamorka… and people like me…” She self-consciously twiddled with the lock in her hair. “We don’t make it up to the sky towns a lot. At least, Narl says that.”

“How did you make it up here?” one of the other scholars, a stuffy-faced woman with an upturned nose, asked.

“Me,” Meridas said, sensing the need to spare Alex from potential embarrassment. “I was looking for someone to cure my sister. And here was someone ready-made for the task. She was an orphan, left to be swallowed up by the Undercity.”

Excited murmuring spread from the implications of that. Already some scholars demanded tests, proof, but Meridas helped steer the conversation back on track to less invasive questions, for which Alex glanced gratefully at him. She wasn’t used to being the center of attention. Wasn’t used to being important, and that made Meridas sad, somehow. She deserved so much more than she had.

He intended to give it to her. He still found it hard to wrap his head around the information Alex heard. Of some strange, destructive magic being sealed. Of Zamorka and the Undercity and the Isles once being the same nation, before something happened. Before Zamorka ended up separated by a sea and thrown into darkness. Before the hundreds of floating islands that once existed had winnowed down to just six.

Of course, Alex hadn’t been given the solution for just how to cure this disease, but the impression had been that it wasn’t curable. Just sealable. Though it would have been nice to know how this ancient woman had succeeded in such a task in the first place.

Ah well. They couldn’t have all the answers.

Speaking of answers… once all the scholars had cleared away, Meridas finally had Alex to himself. Well, Elicia was probably peeping through some secret hiding spot, but he didn’t care in that moment. Enough of the attention. Enough of her cagily avoiding him whenever she realized they were both alone, and him not finding the time due to helping Natalie with evacuating some of her belongings.

They needed to talk.

“Stay,” he commanded, when Alex swiftly made it to the door, seconds after the last scholar had departed. Her soft-soled shoes stopped, and her whole body froze. He thought he caught a tremble inside those gray servant’s clothes she was wearing. “No running out from me this time.”

She turned to face him, smiling rather nervously. “I’m just tired, sorry. So many people asking questions. Don’t think I imagined my life reaching the point where I have to teach.”

“You’ve been avoiding me. And making a lot of excuses for it. Let’s talk. Tell me what’s up.”

“It’s nothing,” Alex muttered, her rich voice rising at the end. “Nothing’s up. Just busy.”

“Is it about the kiss I gave you?”

“No!” she squeaked, making him suspect otherwise. Her previous confidence stumbled to a halt, and a long silence stretched between them, until he wanted to fill it up with more words. Anything but this. “Well…” she said then, staring elsewhere, her fingers rubbing together, “Maybe. But… it’s not—it doesn’t really matter. You’re busy, I know that. Talking to your ex-wife, visiting her daily…”

He blinked at Alex, surprised at the jealously laced in her tone. “You know why I’m doing that! She has to handle issues with her mother’s estate. She has to flush out the false servants and has little time to get her own affairs in order.” The wrinkle between Alex’s eyebrows didn’t go away. “Are you jealous?”

“Jealous? Me?” Alex gave a false, high-pitched laugh. “Of course not. I just… it’d be nice to have you around more often.”

“Alex, when I am around, you find excuses not to talk to me.”

She licked her lips, looking increasingly cornered. He almost wanted to laugh in her face, but that probably wouldn’t be interpreted well. Had that really been the reason for her not talking to him? Not because she decided to refuse his previous offer of romantic attachment, but because she thought he was rekindling things with Natalie again?

They’d talked about that, though. He’d explicitly told her that there was no chance of that happening.

Yes, okay, maybe he could have spent more time with her. He wanted to. He wanted to follow right up with the kiss in the shack, but her information was too valuable. It needed to be spread, and he needed to take responsibility and make sure people knew. He’d even sent an article to the king so the royals knew everything as well.

“Are you seriously telling me that you’ve been avoiding me over a misunderstanding?”

At this, her cheeks flushed an ugly crimson, and she finally looked at him, her eyes hard. She didn’t speak until she got the flush under control, however. “Let me just make this clear. You not talking to me, you shoving me into the orb-light the moment we left the catacombs, contacting the scholars, making me have meetings every single day—that wasn’t an attempt to keep me away from you? To remind me that I wouldn’t be anything more than a servant to you? And then going over every day to Natalie…”

Oh, storms… “That’s not it! It’s—I couldn’t be selfish, Alex. What you know is essential! Only you can tell it as it is. Your information might lead to breakthroughs, it might allow us to figure out how to stop this Creeping Rot. It might save thousands of lives. You really think that kind of information can just sit around and wait?”

“People waited centuries for it,” Alex said. “One additional night wouldn’t hurt.” Then she sighed. “No, that’s wrong. That is selfish. Ugh.” She rubbed her eyes, the sigh turning into a frustrated growl. “You know, Natalie told me to take care of you. I was so looking forward to talking to you, to exploring more about… but then it just went away.”

Natalie told her to take care of him? He’d have to have words with Nat about that. “You could have just talked to me. We could have solved this in about a second.”

“What do I know about talking? No one talks in the Undercity, don’t you see? We just sit on our problems and complain.” She shook her head in a bitter laugh. “I have no clue about emotions. No clue about this storming nonsense. At all. And now I feel crazy for even assuming for a moment that something else was going on.”

“You won’t be the first one caught up in that trap,” Meridas said, a big smile stretching his lips. His heart also beat faster, and a twinge of relief flooded his system. “You won’t be the last. Welcome to love and all its complexities.”

“Love… is that what this is?” Alex’s eyes became slits. “They say it’s like butterflies. This is like tiny saws cutting at my stomach. I hate it. Hate feeling… emotional. All this emotion.”

“Stupid, isn’t it?” he said. Yes, he understood that perfectly. She didn’t need to describe it. Wanting to be around someone. Having all these strange, new emotions stir, when he thought himself perfectly under control. Having to process all those emotions, and wonder if he was actually going insane from it. That horrible, squirming feeling, that anxiety about the other person, feeling happy when they said something nice, and feeling a crushing weight when they didn’t. And having to act all the time like he was calm, in control, the model man and leader. Model dragon. “We planning to kiss or not?” He managed to say this with a roguish smile, pleased at her reaction—like she’d received a new slap to the face in shock.

“Really? No slow, romantic build-up? Just… hey, want to kiss?”

“You didn’t answer my question.”

She studied him for a moment longer, before letting out another one of those frustrated growls, and strode over to him with burning purpose. His stomach quivered in sudden anticipation. Along with something else. Excitement gripped him as she reached up to kiss his lips and press her body into him. He held her tight, body humming in growing arousal, and blood rushed to between his legs, bringing his erection to rub against the rough material there. That didn’t matter right now. What mattered was how she felt, smelled, tasted, and his hands pressed harder into the small of her back, raising her up to him. Parts of her hair brushed his face as she moved to his cheek, and he took the opportunity to crouch down to kiss her neck. A small pang of guilt went through him, because he’d learned some good techniques for sex from his previous partners, but at least they’d be put to good use right now.

As for Alex, he sensed somehow that she was inexperienced, that she was enthusiastic, but not quite sure how to conduct herself when it came to him. He’d help her. Gladly.

Their mouths met again, exchanging a sweet heat and passion. When they broke away, he felt slightly giddy, and she wore a similar expression. Grabbing hands, they left the study and hurtled towards his chambers, passing a startled Elicia along the way. Well, she’d know sooner or later, anyway.

Inside the bedroom at last, they took to tackling each other’s clothing, with him succeeding in speed, though he graciously allowed her to take her time to peel off his shirt and examine his broad chest, before venturing down lower to see what waited for her there. He hoped she liked what she saw—he expected to like what he saw. And Meridas most certainly feasted upon Alex’s appearance, from her diminutive frame, no longer as scrawny as when he first saw her, rounded hips, small hands, and a sharp, elegant face that gave her a mystical appearance. She would be the kind of person who aged well. She admired his body as well, and a pleasant, warm heat rippled through him as her hands ran over his face, his lightly furred chest, thighs, and circling around his erection. He made a bold move, picking her up with strong arms and planting her onto the bed, upon her back, so he could crawl above her and watch her shiver in delight and arousal.

He wondered how it felt for her, to see him like this, if she craved his lips, for them to connect. He kissed her neck, then collarbone, and used one hand to run over her left arm and down her sides, gradually working it closer to her breasts, until she let out a soft gasp when he grasped each one.

“Not too hard,” she whispered. “I’m… sensitive, there.”

“Alright.” He gave each breast a light kiss instead, and worked back up to her lips, to allow their tongues to mix together. He rubbed his hips against hers, his erection brushing her stomach, giving her some time to get used to the sensation, and for him to savor the sweet smell of her, and the moans and sharp breaths emitting from her lips. He liked the way her body rose and fell with his, and how they rubbed together. Her heart hammered so fast, nearly as fast as his. He could barely keep his arms still on either side of her now from excitement, as he lowered himself, brushing his erection against her entrance.

There was little resistance as he pushed himself in, their bodies becoming one. She stiffened, her body tense, and he whispered for her to relax, to say if it hurt too much, that he’d be slow, he’d be gentle if she needed it. Peppering her with kisses, he soon felt her mellow, and he began to move slowly inside, her tightness starting to generate a growing explosion within him.

The thing that did it the most, though, was when she shuddered and let out a soft moan, her eyes a bright green in the orb light, mesmerizing him. Her thighs trembled, and she clenched around him.

She’s… had she orgasmed? Excitement reached a crescendo, realizing just how turned on she’d been, how eager she was to be with him, to have…

The heat inside him fluctuated, before shooting down his erection and into her, leaving a radiating warmth to course inside.

I don’t believe it. He stared down at her in amazement, with joy taking over his lips.

Where had she been all his life?

He rested himself to the side after watching her calm down from the orgasm, and pulled out, now adjusting their positions so that she could rest within his embrace under the bedsheets, and he could get to experience an afternoon being with a woman he loved.

Love? Is that what it is?

A few moments passed in blissful silence as they held each other.

“So many things to do,” Meridas said, gripping Alex tight to him, his nose close to her neck, so he could continue to inhale her intoxicating scent. His body felt wonderfully heavy, the beast inside him sated for now. “I should be just stressing over it all right now, but it’s hard to be stressed when you’re in my arms like this.”

“That almost sounds like a declaration of love,” Alex said, a smile in her voice. She also sounded drunk, dazed, and he supposed that to be a good thing.

“It is,” he said, after wondering for a moment whether he should just go out and say it or not. “I might just be in love with you. Even if you are a slum girl.” It seemed like the right words to say. Her heartrate, currently felt by his draped right arm, almost doubled.

“Magical slum girl,” Alex said, maintaining a calm exterior, if a frantic interior. “I bet all those ladies waiting to court you will hate you.”

“Oh, I certainly hope so. My father will, anyway. But I couldn’t really bring myself to care, so this is fine.”

She turned slightly, so her chin bumped into his eye. Not hard enough for him to flinch back. “I think I might love you, too.”

His heartbeat picked up as well, and his voice cracked ever so slightly. “You keep thinking on that one.”

Sharing this moment with her was wonderful. Everything he’d expected, and more. He wanted to do everything in his power right now to help her fulfill her dreams. Visit that woman she talked about in the Undercity, who wanted a cauldron. Buy more games, so they could have some evenings together not worrying about anything. Taking her on trips via airships, to experience much more of the world from above, and to feel like she belonged in the skies, like he did.

Sure, the skies might be perilous at times. They had new information to figure out, and a countdown they didn’t quite understand with the disease. He needed to figure out where Vash had been infected, and if it had anything to do with the stone core on Natalie’s island. Then there was that stupid Conclave, and their plans to foil. He also planned to search for more accused witches in the prisons, and keep tracing Alex’s parents, though one of them was certainly Zamorkan.

It would be nice for them to have answers. But not all answers came just because they were wanted. They liked to hide themselves behind trick doors, and sometimes only led to more questions.

But at least now, they could finally start getting somewhere.

And right now, he didn’t want to worry about all of that. He only wanted to think about Alex. He kissed her lightly on the neck, pushing past the gloom of all the things he needed to do, focusing only on her right now.

On the way they just fit together. He had a lot of lost time to make up for.

The Dragon’s Air Witch

Six Isles’ Witches and Dragons

Book 2

By: Lisa Daniels

Prologue – Serpent Isle’s Fall

Janus Argent lost his parents two days ago. They resisted the disease for as long as they could, but no cure waited for them. The one thing they insisted upon, however, was getting him out before he, too, became infected.

Now he stood on the deck of a skyship, watching as his home plummeted into darkness. Everything he’d ever known, everything he ever cared about, lost to that horrible illness that destroyed his family.

He did nothing but cry himself to sleep for those two days. But now he watched the floating island fall with dry eyes, the skin around his face raw from all the tears.

Whatever happened next, he knew one thing needed to happen above all else. He needed to stop this illness. He didn’t know how, or if it was even possible, but it had to be halted. Because if he felt this much pain upon losing everything to that awful thing—then he imagined others feeling that same pain.

Suffering.

Maybe they all felt like he did. Angry because of what was taken from them. Determined to do something about it.

Their ship drifted away in the darkness after some time. He didn’t want to be with the others who watched their home fall. He didn’t want to see their tears and feel their pain. He had quite enough of it by himself. The adults told him he’d have a new family to take him in. That he needn’t worry about being alone for long, because people would help him.

He didn’t want a new family. He just wanted to be left alone.

No one could replace his parents.

No one.

Chapter One –Twenty-Five Years After Serpent Isle’s Fall – Evelyn

Evelyn hoped no one would ever take the skies away from her. As job occupations went, she could certainly do worse than her current one. For a start, she got to live in the Six Isles, far above the sprawling, grubby Undercity that lay in the floating islands’ shadows. And there was something soothing about having her face to the skies, with the wind caressing her body, as she directed it to move the skyship through the currents.

The Cloudstalker was a fine old ship, with more than thirty years of service, exchanged between four different captains. She had wanted to find out the ship’s history, from humble beginnings as a barge for ferrying people from below to above, to a merchant ship, trading with isolated floating islands of people who lived so far above that they only functioned on a fraction of the air others were used to. Surviving populations had long since had an air witch’s magic sustain them, otherwise they wouldn’t be around to trade today.

Now their little trading group returned from Sitting Cloud, laden with exotic animals and furs. She sat in her little wooden shelter, wrapped up in the warmest furs money could buy, directing the winds into five white sailcloths: three masts, two side wings, which usually the rudder took care of for some easier direction turning, requiring minimal effort to push the ship through the air, thus allowing her to focus instead on keeping the oxygen and pressure bubble around their ship stable. Birds chittered, with their colorful plumages flashing from the cages she could just about see, tucked underdeck next to the stairs that led down.

“Reckon we should make a tidy fortune with this lot,” Reginald, the captain, said with the kind of voice that carried miles out. Evelyn gave him a smile, keeping her magic operations running in the back of her mind. “We need to stop trading in perishable fruits and vegetables, though. I’ve been losing profit with long runs for those, even with the advanced prices they go for with the nobility.” He folded his heavy, sleeved gray arms. His captain’s helmet was lined with fur and attached like a hood to his jacket, which was covered in a kind of wax to make it waterproof—a blessing if they went through rainclouds.

“Not many people are willing to go to the little people’s places,” Evelyn said, knowing she sounded arrogant, but convinced of her own ability. “Not many air witches are capable of the endurance it requires. Because they don’t know how to conserve their magic effectively.”

Reginald smiled, brown eyes sad. “Well… the skies know you’re fantastic with this ship. I just… well… wish this wouldn’t be your last run with us.”

Evelyn’s expression soured. “I don’t blame you. I’d do it as well.” A part of her still felt bitter he’d agreed, all the same.

Turned out a witch of her talents had something very keen to buy her off the crew. To the point where the buyer offered sums of money beyond anything they were accustomed to making with several years of hard work. It made sense. The people of the Cloudstalker weren’t getting any younger. Some of them were slower with their reactions in attending to the little emergencies a ship might encounter during long-distance travel. Some wanted retirement, and Evelyn’s former friend, a deckhand by the name of Ufus, had long since decided sailing wasn’t for him.

“We had to get one last little island run,” he said. “As a… tribute. It will be strange not to see you here.” His eyes traced the etched patterns in the wood around Evelyn. Badly drawn pictures of sky dragons and ships and clouds, with a gradual improvement in them over time. “But I’m sure your parents and grandparents will be delighted.”

“They are,” Evelyn said, now tugging out a black snarl of hair from her scalp and letting it drift into the currents. “They’re all happy that one of the six noble families has hired me. They’ve already moved location, and when I meet them, they do nothing but babble incessantly about how wonderful their new houses are, how I’ve brought such honor upon them.”

Her mouth twisted. Not like they’d earned any of it themselves, but they gained the rewards of her hard efforts anyway. She was the one who had learned magic, who had discovered her gift for it. She was the one who had to listen to them prattle on about how her purpose was to honor the family, while they spent all their time undercutting taxes and being paid under the table. She was the one who spent sometimes weeks on ships, carefully managing her power through storms and ice sleets and chaos, keeping the crew alive. Then there was that mysterious death of her uncle, the rich one, and the subsequent squabbling of five family members who wanted the money for themselves.

They deserved nothing. But the rules of the Six Isles dictated that ten percent of her earnings went to her immediate family’s bank anyway.

She supposed it made sense on a level, though. And she did enjoy her job. It just… it would be nice not to feel like some kind of trade commodity herself.

All too soon, they touched down upon Dasen Island, ready to unload all the goods. Ready to hand her over to a new, unfamiliar ship, and a new master. At the docks, they were already rooting through the paperwork, and when she got off, she had to watch as her captain formally signed her over and received a writ of money—ensuring the deal was completed.

People she’d been familiar with—Old Janker and Macius—everyone who’d been sailing the Cloudstalker for decades, waved her goodbye. Reginald gave her a hug, too, with his big bear arms, and her last payment for running with him in a little pouch. Evelyn wondered if the new air witch would get on with the crew so well, or if she’d even be capable of long-distance travels.

Her new masters strode up to her. They were a strange, motley group. Two men from noble families—ones who could shift into dragons. Meridas Dasenson, tall and solid in his own right. Responsible for putting forth mechanisms to halt the Creeping Rot, a disease that devastated magic users.

Then there was the hard-faced witch behind him with short dark hair and a streak of yellow in it. Alex of the Undercity. The little prodigy, the Life Witch, servant of Meridas. The third one, Evelyn recognized with a start of surprise, even fright.

Janus Ruthe. A noble from Ruthen Isle.

I knew I was being hired by Meridas… but why is he here?

Ruthen Isle was well known as a high-tax nightmare. Anyone planning to trade there needed to pay ridiculous fees, yet those on Ruthen were the only ones who traded in certain goods in the Six Isles. The kind of goods that destroyed people’s lives down in the Undercity, and that a few of the upper class took until their own destructions. Yet this son of one of the richest families in the Isles was standing here, clearly a part of the group picking her up.

“Greetings,” Meridas said, sticking out a hand for her to shake. She took it dubiously, not feeling a particular inclination to be friendly. “I’m Meridas. This is Alex. This is Janus. Glad to have you on board.”

“Thanks,” Evelyn said, swallowing down her impulse to snap at him. “I’ve heard about your exploits. I’ve also heard about… you.” Her gaze slid to Alex.

The life witch’s mouth twitched upwards, though it appeared condescending. “I’ve heard about you, too. Apparently, you’re one of the best for long-distance traveling in the Six Isles.”

This Alex clearly had the mannerisms of the Undercity, yet Evelyn found her attitude now slightly more interesting. She had a faint trace of the boroughs in her accent. “You heard that, did you? Glad to know some people are paying attention to me.”

“You had the highest marks in the practical exams. My tutor’s showing me all the witches who were trained up here. Meridas, here, meanwhile, was seeing who he could buy out of the sky…” Alex raised her eyebrows at Meridas, who gave a rather guilty-sounding cough, in Evelyn’s opinion.

“You’re about to have a wonderful time with us,” Alex continued, still wearing a wry smile upon her face. “You get to come with us to Zamorka.”

Blinking rapidly, Evelyn’s brain refused to register what she’d just heard.

“What?”

“That was my reaction, too,” Janus said from next to her.

Zamorka? The place across the sea where demons and curses originated?

That Zamorka? “You’re joking, right? We’re not traveling there.”

“Unfortunately, we are.” Alex rubbed behind her ear. “Time to find out if those rumors have any weight behind them, I suppose.”

Chapter Two – Janus

He hated having to go to other people to ask for help. Janus enjoyed the reputation Ruthen Isle generated. Intolerant of the lazy. Hard workers who managed to scrimp and scrape from a beginning of nothing to wealth and riches. While people like Meridas lived comfortably under the wings of their relatives, even with the fall of Serpent Isle, he had nothing. He’d been a ward to the childless Gevard Ruthe instead, and Gevard had him working from day one.

At least, until a few months ago.

When it all went wrong.

It’d been galling to even ask for help, but Meridas and his little life witch were the only ones on board with the whole situation. The only ones actively trying to stop the Creeping Rot from killing them, and to find a way to make sure it never re-emerged. The thought of approaching Meridas in the court still burned a sense of humiliation in him. People seeing it with their own eyes. The proud son of Ruthen Isle, crawling to someone else for assistance.

But sky take them all. His pride wasn’t worth more loss.

Though he’d been tempted just to let it all slip past him, anyway.

Right now, he and Meridas walked outside to inspect the brand-new ship lodged in the sky port. It stood out, even among the other vessels. Most vessels were smaller and had much less storage space under the deck. The Elegant looked like it’d comfortably house a crew of twenty for many weeks—which, coincidentally, would be the size they planned to take with them. “Thanks for helping us fund the trip,” Meridas said with his hands tucked into his pockets. “Even with the data we’ve collected about the Creeping Rot so far, many people have an ‘out of sight, out of mind’ attitude. Even less actually want to attempt what we’re planning...”

“I have half a mind not to agree to what you’re planning, either,” Janus said, examining the Elegant’s sleek, black exterior and five sails with an appreciative eye. “But it’s equally obvious that unless we do something to break the pattern of disaster we’re seeing,  then at some point, there won’t be six islands. There’ll be craters in the Undercity instead.”

“You don’t strike me as someone who cares about that,” Meridas said lightly, watching a crew member scuttle onboard with a crate of food. “Your island doesn’t really carry a reputation of warmth.”

“Yes, well… generally we don’t have people dropping dead,” Janus said. He closed his eyes, seeing his adoptive father and mother both lying in bed together, refusing to be separated. His adoptive father screaming at him to leave, before he got infected as well.

That image haunted him, because he remembered one other set of parents who didn’t want him infected, either.

He hadn’t forgotten that promise he made to himself back then. And watching the Ruthes succumb to the same accursed disease made him yet more adamant to do something. To do whatever it took.

Janus needed a way to fix the mess before it got worse.

“I am, at least, self-interested enough not to want another island to fall,” Janus said with a tight smile. “My fortunes are there. And you’re the only one offering to do something about it.”

“True,” Meridas said. “I was most surprised when you threw all that money at me, though.”

“I thought it might grab your attention.”

Truthfully, he’d wanted to buy the life witch off Meridas, but a few well-placed spies told him that they were a couple. Meridas wouldn’t sell his lover for anything. Plus, one little life witch couldn’t bring back the dead or heal all the rapidly dying magic users in time. No, they needed preventive measures. And this… trip, ludicrous as it was, might provide answers they sorely needed.

Or kill them all.

“At least we’ll be in relative comfort when we travel. This is a fine ship of yours, Janus.”

“I doubt we’ll keep it for very long, given where we’re going,” Janus said with a snort. “Doesn’t help that half the crew are scholars. People who haven’t seen a day of physical work in their lives.”

“That’s because their work is with the mind,” Meridas said rather dryly, but didn’t make any real effort to contradict him. “With a life witch on board, we hope that if anyone does fall sick, she’ll be able to tend to them fast enough with such a small crew. And we have two air witches in our crew, both renowned for their long-distance skills.”

“What about their fighting?”

At this, Meridas shrugged. “I’m the dragon, here. I’ll do the fighting.”

“Not alone, you won’t,” Janus said with a grin. “And I bet I’ll fight a cursing sight better than you, you overpainted fop.”

A noise behind them caused their attention to shift elsewhere, and they turned to see the brand-new hire, the surly-looking air witch with long, curly black hair and eyes the color of coals. She did have a rather striking manner about her, and that hair of hers seemed to explode in thick curls—more volume in it than he’d ever seen in his entire life.

“Fancy-looking ship,” she said in her cultured voice, wrapping around her like the winds she controlled. “And much bigger than my former one. Can’t be more than a year old, surely?”

“The last of the wooden timbers were placed just four months ago,” Janus said,  nodding towards her. “It was intended to be a family traveling ship, but we ended up losing a few members of said family. Might as well use it for something else.”

“Oh, hmm.” She blinked rapidly at his statement. “Right. I knew about the, uh, blockade to Ruthen Island, but not why...”

“Now you know.”

The dark-robed woman stepped up the gangplank onto the huge ship, clearly intending to inspect it. Janus and Meridas followed, observing as she went to the air witch alcove, complete with a small chamber for the off-duty witch to sleep in, and the finest, softest seating arrangements, along with a shelf of books and a small service bell if she wanted to get food or drink without leaving the confines of the alcove. Crew members bowed to Janus, though he knew none of them—he only paid an accountant, who then filtered the money to the hired crew. The captain was supposed to be some rugged expert that his father had trusted, but since he didn’t really travel on skyships, he didn’t have a lot of interaction with said captain.

“It seems far too luxurious,” the woman said with a sniff. “Be interesting to see how it fares in a real storm.”

“Well enough.” Janus gazed up at the lightning rods that adorned the top mast, designed to harness the power of lightning and contain it in a small, magical chest. Raw lightning sold well in some parts, where people preferred something called electricity to light witch orbs.

He figured the crew wanted extra money, and wouldn’t begrudge them the opportunity.

They really thought this woman was one of the best air witches, though? She seemed so light, he suspected even a faint breeze might knock her off her feet.

He hadn’t left the Isles in his entire lifetime here, though. Likely he’d be horrifically ill-equipped to deal with the unknown, but he didn’t want to stay on that floating death trap of an island, either. Pretending that the disease would eventually go away if he just ignored it. Sure, it might go away for some years.

But it seemed it’d always come back in the end.

The air witch vanished into the bowels of the skyship, and when he followed, he saw that she was impressed in spite of herself, seeing the bronze pipes lining the sides to provide additional heating from light witch magic, comfortable beds, and even two bathrooms, which could be filled up from rainclouds  to provide warm baths. More than what a lot of ships had. They also had a communal eating hall, attached to the galley kitchens, and a recreational room which had classic games stored in it, and a couple of tables for batball.

“This is quite… the luxury ship,” the woman breathed, running her hands over the metal plating in the bowels of the ship. They mixed wood and metal for strength, intending not to stress the hoverstone more than necessary, as it empowered the ship to float. “Though it feels big, empty, and soulless. No one’s made any memories on this ship. Not like the Cloudstalker, which had so many memories you could feel them on the tip of your tongue.”

“Sounds like nonsense,” Janus said, stepping up beside her. He inhaled more of her scent, when he’d been catching only a faint suggestion of it before. He had a hard time placing it, really. The atmospheric pressure of rain before it’d fallen? How air tasted when cold, and the ground was covered with snow? Either way, it was natural, and he liked that about her. He could believe her to be a creature of the sky. Someone who’d spent their entire life with their head above the clouds.

“Evelyn,” Meridas said, his deep voice resonating through the chamber, “would you consider something like this ship difficult to move? Does the size change the effectiveness of your magic?”

“Not really. The hoverstone compensates for most of the weight. There will be more drag in a storm or hurricane, though, but it’s not hurricane season, as far as I’m aware. And you said you have a second air witch, so we can take breaks easier.”

“I was considering a third one, honestly,” Meridas said with a faint smile upon his thin lips. “But they are rather expensive, and also in short supply. If we paid for others like we paid for you, we’d have no money left for the expedition.”

“Expedition.” She folded her arms, regarding them both, dark eyes narrowed. “Why would you want to go to Zamorka? That’s like signing your own death warrant,” she said. “You—you really want to go to the land of demons?”

“Yes.”

“The land of the very same people who are plotting to probably destroy the Undercity and the Six Isles, and who were most likely involved with the fall of Jarithas?”

“Yes.” Meridas raised an eyebrow, as if daring her to protest further. “That is precisely where we’re going.”

“You’re a fool,” Evelyn said. “I’ve half a mind just to quit on the spot.”

“But you won’t, because you know what it’ll do to your reputation,” Meridas replied. “And yes, it may be considered foolish. But I’ve seen what the Creeping Rot does. I’ve also seen that a woman of Zamorkan descent was the only one who could do anything about it. She wasn’t, however, able to heal the island we sent her to—Karibos. It will collapse, perhaps in one week, perhaps in one year. But we did find out some clues. Which point to Zamorka. I assume you’ve heard about our report of the Red Woman?”

The air witch fell silent, chewing on her bottom lip.

Janus scowled. The mysterious Red Woman—some kind of ghost who turned up when the core of an island was dying. Who apparently could only be understood by someone who shared lineage with them. A Zamorkan.

Sky take those cursed Zamorkans from this planet.

Evelyn and Meridas continued their back and forth as they wandered back up to the top deck again, and Janus’ head was full of images of dead and dying people, all consumed by the Creeping Rot, which crept green veins along their victims’ skins and wasted away their bodies. Which left communities crippled, and drove people to desperation, similar to the street urchins below who grubbed day in and day out for a meager existence.

And now he banked his entire reputation, and a good chunk of his fortune, on this accursed trip. It had better pay dividends for the effort.

As he examined Evelyn again with mild interest, because the wind caught her hair and turned it into a chaotic tangle, an uncomfortable notion entered his brain.

There was a high chance that the air witches would suffer when entering Zamorka. If this Creeping Rot could be passed in the atmosphere, somehow… then that half-breed woman of Meridas’ needed to be fast when it came to healing.

He’d already ensured his own last will was ready. If anything happened to him on the trip that resulted in death, all his family’s wealth would go into an island-based fund, run by his most trusted accountants. A fund that would go to people like him. People who had lost everything once upon a time, but were willing to work hard to make up for such loss.

Hopefully, though, they’d all make it back out alive.

But it helped to always be prepared for the worst.

Chapter Three – Evelyn

Zamorka wasn’t exactly at the top of Evelyn’s list of planned locations to visit. If anything, she’d hoped to avoid such a place for the entirety of her existence. She’d heard quite enough about that place from the crews on the Cloudstalker, who usually spoke of it while making the sign of protection with their hands. Sure, sailors were a superstitious lot, always worried about upsetting the ship they rode in, treating it like it had a soul, and they loved their little trinkets—but surely, the fact that so many people talked about Zamorka in the same way, like it was where the monsters under your bed dwelled—there had to be some truth in it.

Yet now, almost all the crew were here, and the supplies loaded into the belly of the ship seemed like they’d last for months. Was that how long they anticipated the trip to be? Months and months?

She wondered if the royals of Azarus Isle approved of such a trip. Or whether this was at the discretion of Meridas and Janus. It probably explained why they needed that Janus to fund the trip, but of all the people who could have funded such a trip, she’d never expect a reputed miser like a Ruthe family member to do so.

She pictured Janus now, with those cold, dark eyes of his, the kind that looked like they were tiny repositories of a bad temper. His hair was a shade lighter than her liquid black, but not that much lighter. Not quite how she imagined a Ruthe to be. Especially one that had the ability to turn into a monstrous serpent. But she supposed they were still humans, at the end of the day.

The other air witch, Rukia, had an attitude which Evelyn thought immensely ill-fitting for someone about to travel into the jaws of death, with a trap probably waiting to snap shut on them. She engaged with the other crew members with an almost insufferable enthusiasm, and stared at the ship as if it was the single most beautiful thing she’d ever seen in her life. When Evelyn had voiced annoyance of this enthusiasm to Meridas (politely, of course), he’d given her a smile.

“She was originally from the Undercity,” he had said. “So for her, everything is grand and fancy. She’s not used to seeing such wealth.”

Neither was Evelyn, but you didn’t see her going around the place, her eyes almost falling out with excitement. Rukia almost seemed to have a similar taint like the other Undercity foundling, Alex. Where Alex had dark hair with that tell-tale blonde streak, Rukia’s hair was a most unusual shade—a dark brown which appeared like a dark, muggy red in the right lighting. She could probably pass as a native in bad lighting, but out here, in full glare of the sunlight, it was obvious she, too, had impure heritage.

Two of Zamorkan descent, coming to Zamorka with them. Did they think they would be safe with these people?

Evelyn strode over instead to examine her new room, where fresh clothes had been placed in a small drawer, and a few of her small possessions from her time on the Cloudstalker lay on top of it. Just little mementos from the trips she’d made. Souvenirs to remind herself of all the places she had been.

Sitting on the small cabin bed, she regarded the wooden, box-shaped walls. More luxurious than her former ship, but still nothing compared to the fancy manor rooms people like Janus Ruthe and Meridas Dasenson were used to. There was a light witch heater in the wall as well, designed for her to put coffee granules in, to pour out into a cup.

Shame she hated coffee, really. Many air witches on their journeys loved stimulants to keep them up. But for Evelyn, she’d long since trained her mind to multitask everything, to stay supremely alert for long stretches of time, no matter how tedious the work was.

Because some hazards could hit out of nowhere, or be severely underestimated. They did have a barometer to help, of course, but… just no. No coffee. She remained in her room for a while, appreciating the opportunity to just think about nothing at all.

Two sharp raps to her door some indeterminable time later put paid to the bliss of nothing. She turned on her side and grunted a “Come in.” The door opened a second later and Alex walked in, already dressed up like an oversized hot water bottle. “Ship’s ready to go. I’ve been told to inform you that Rukia’s lifting it off and going. You prefer night shifts or something.”

“I’m not particularly bothered by what kind of shift I get,” Evelyn answered. “Since I’m usually used to being the only air witch on duty.”

“Okay.” Alex turned as if to go, before deciding otherwise. “What does an air witch do for entertainment on long trips?”

Evelyn shrugged, not willing to talk about herself so much. “Sleep. Eat. Listen to people. Sometimes get involved if they’ve got some gambling den going on, but I’m usually too busy to have that much time off.”

“You visit your family often?”

Evelyn gave a small sigh. “As often as I can tolerate them. Now, why don’t you ask me some questions with meat?”

The life witch’s mouth curled into a cold smile. “Is an air witch able to train a life witch in magic?”

“There we go.” Evelyn got off her cabin bed. “That’s more like it. And as for your answer—no. You need to be trained by someone who has the same branch of magic as you, or research it, or have that whole trial-by-error approach.”

Alex let out an irritated sound. “So I’ll just wait for more people to almost die before I get to practice. Exactly what I want.”

Good point. Evelyn regarded Alex for a moment. “I suppose we can at least deliberately injure ourselves, and see how you fare with it.”

“Shallow injuries, I can do.” Alex closed her eyes. “I used to do some healing on the streets, but I didn’t fully understand it. I healed a lot of minor injuries. Some diseases, as well. But I didn’t do it often, and… well, I’d like to be able to understand better how I can do it. But I don’t think serious injuries to members of the crew is a great way to start it.”

“I’m sure you can find some lummox who thinks having his arm cut off is worth a thousand circs or something. Can you heal a missing arm?”

Alex shrugged. “I don’t know.”

“We can always find out,” Evelyn said, grinning wickedly. She wouldn’t mind seeing the life witch in action. And it’d be a good way to discover the personalities lying in the crew. Always good to know who you worked with. “Let’s wait until an hour or so after lift-off, and we can go ask around. See if anyone’s on board with helping you with your powers.”

The smaller woman’s smile became softer, more genuine. “And who will be paying a thousand circs to have their arm cut off?”

“We can ask Meridas or Janus. I’m sure they won’t object to you getting better at your magic. Especially Meridas. You two seem pretty close.”

“We are.” She didn’t elaborate. She didn’t need to. The ship gave a small, familiar lurch, as Rukia worked her magic upon the winds. The familiar coating of stable atmospheric pressure soon cocooned their ship, and the lurching turned into a smooth glide.

Not bad, Evelyn thought. Some air witches launched far less adroitly than that. She supposed Rukia had to be somewhat talented, to be picked out as a member of this crew. Probably not as talented as her, however.

Maybe this trip wouldn’t be completely terrible. Just when they finally crossed the seas into Zamorka.

* * *

Turned out, an awful lot of the crew didn’t mind getting themselves injured for money. Meridas had reluctantly agreed to front the bill, though he warned them of their minimal spending budget. Rukia and about four of the crew were currently working on deck, but the others were lounging in what they called the Rec room, or already delving into food supplies. They’d needed to drag Meridas along just so he could back up their statement and prove they were good for the money.

Prospective victim number one, Lowen Rivers, a sailor sporting far too many muscles and a long, braided black beard, volunteered to have his nail ripped off for 200 silver circs. The bolder members of the crew cheered, the more dignified watched in silence, including Janus, who had come down to see the life witch’s ability for himself.

Blinking with pain, Lowen held up a bloody finger for Alex, who took it and stared at the offending wound with no revulsion upon her features. A whisper of magic wrapped around her, alien to Evelyn’s senses, but holding the undeniable stink all casting had. For Evelyn, air magic felt like air itself—a breeze waiting to be manipulated. The wind felt alive to her, willing to fall under her command, and atmospheric pressure settled naturally upon her shoulders, acquiring the right composition for humans to survive.

Alex looked as if she were struggling to push past something, or as if she’d hit a solid wall. Her cheeks went red with strain, but Evelyn clearly observed Lowen’s nail regrowing, until it became a pristine version of its former self, with no dirt lodged underneath it. Lowen held up his hand with a roar of delight.

“Two hundred silver to me, boys and girls! Next port we stop at, I’m buying all the drinks!” Laughter, cheering and clapping followed, and Alex looked rather pleased with herself.

“So you can regrow a small body part, at least,” Evelyn said with a grin. “I wonder if anyone will volunteer to lose a little more than a nail…?”

“My ear,” someone said, pointing at an ear that more resembled a cauliflower than an actual ear. “I’m a bit deaf this side anyway. But I want more than two hundred for it.” The weedy-faced man jutted his jaw out in a determined manner, and Meridas let out a sigh.

“Four hundred silver circs for the ear, then.”

“Done,” the man said. Some people muttered, others cheered, and the man who had his nail cut off also volunteered, obviously wanting more money.

By the time Evelyn left the brightly lit room, Alex had successfully managed to regrow several ears and a couple of fingers, and someone was yelling that they could have their leg off and just work with a stump if needed. Evelyn didn’t plan to have any parts of her lopped off. She didn’t much like the idea of subjecting herself to someone else’s mercy, no matter if it did serve a good cause or not. Upon the deck, she noted that Rukia was doing something with the heat of the air as well, because despite being so high up, the air felt gentle and cool.

That’s pretty impressive. Evelyn could do it as well, but it ate through her energy reserves quite fast. Others didn’t burn their energy nearly as much. Couldn’t be perfect at everything, after all. Rukia herself chatted with a female crew member in the air witch alcove. The captain was at his wheel, inspecting a brass compass just above the wheel. No one inspected the sails or sat in the crow’s nest. They’d need more crew if the weather picked up. The view of the Undercity and the Six Isles hung behind them, growing smaller by the minute, leaving them traveling through open sky with the ground below so small, full of fields and twisted woodlands, belonging to people who’d never let themselves be absorbed by civilization. Small towns, nothing like the sprawl of the Undercity, existed in pockets.

Already she missed the views afforded by her old ship. And she dreaded the notion of making it to Zamorka, which she pictured in her mind like some shadowy blob of evil.

“Why aren’t you with the rest of the crew?” a deep, gruff voice asked. Evelyn checked to make sure it was addressing her, and saw Janus standing there, regarding her with keen, dark eyes. “Especially since what’s happening down there is entirely due to your suggestion.”

“I just needed some fresh air, is all,” she replied coolly. “And it does get a little crowded when everyone’s down there, chanting for body parts to be taken off.”

“One man offered to be castrated, last time I checked, but he wanted two thousand silver for such an action.”

Personally, Evelyn thought twenty golden circs was cheap for such an act, but she was also dimly aware that such money would be unheard of in the Undercity. “Glad to hear they’re having fun.”

He stood beside her, reminding her of how tall he was. She barely made it above his shoulders, and she wasn’t exactly a small person herself.  His dark hair was far less voluminous than hers, and he wore a gray overcoat, similar to the rest of the crew and to her. Big feet as well, she observed, glancing to his heavy boots.

“I suspect that you don’t really want to try and blend in,” Janus said. “That you’re still pissed off with us for poaching you from your former ship.”

Yes, Evelyn thought. Though at the same time, she did want to make an effort, because she didn’t want to spend the trip alone. The conflicting emotions didn’t exactly make it easy. “I miss them. They were simple people, and we got to see some impressive things out there in the high skies. I’m constantly amazed how people can and choose to live in areas that would normally kill a human.”

“Your family were celebrating your new role in the courts,” Janus said, still with that gruff unconcern, “and I couldn’t help but notice that you were absent. Frolicking away on one final trip.”

“You could say… I’m not really a fan of them right now,” Evelyn said, imagining her mother and father laughing themselves sick as they spooned luxurious food into their mouths, living off her magic and wealth without a penny of effort invested by themselves.

“Shame. I wonder how they’d appreciate you going to Zamorka.”

Evelyn snorted. “Out of all the places you guys could have chosen to go, it had to be the one place nobody visits.”

“People must have come here before. Given that you probably spoke to a lot of other crews if you stopped for repairs or restocking at any point.”

“No. We never spoke to anyone who had visited Zamorka.”

Janus frowned at this fact. Honestly, Evelyn wondered if anyone here had made it to Zamorka. If anyone had bothered to leave the comfort of the Six Isles or their functioning Undercity, if they were just going into this expedition blind.

“Tell me why you don’t like to be seen with your family.” Janus regarded her with one raised eyebrow, and she tied back her thick hair into an aggressive ponytail that resembled more of a curly mop on her scalp. “I’ve been to a fair few of the court gatherings myself when the king’s involved, and I’ve seen your family, but never you. You can’t always be busy at all those times.”

If I’m not, I’ll try and make myself busy. “There’s nothing wrong with them, I guess. It’s… it’s a little embarrassing to be around them. You probably wouldn’t relate. You come from people who are all hard work, no play, but...” Evelyn hesitated, wondering if she did want to tell a total stranger about her family. Perhaps her views were a little unfair, but it didn’t stop her from feeling them. Emotions did have that annoying habit of sticking around, no matter how petty. “I’d get paraded around by them a lot. Boasted about to the other parents, like they were having some competition about who could have the most talented child. And when my air magic came early, they insisted on throwing a party, inviting all their friends—but not inviting any of mine. Just… endless showing off. Doing tricks with the wind like a tame dog. How happy my mother was to know that even in her old age, there’d be an air witch in the family drawing so much pay that the family tax would ensure they never had to worry about a thing again.”

Janus’ eyebrows wrinkled slightly, and Evelyn realized he didn’t relate. She felt a need to explain further, somehow, if just to shake off the sense of embarrassment building up in her body. “I was their achievement. Their fattened calf to give them money. Not really a daughter. Just something to boast about and lavish a lot of attention on. But all the attention I ever wanted was just...” To have my mom and dad love me. How exactly could she explain she was missing love, when to anyone else’s eye, they would see nothing but abundance? “It doesn’t matter. It probably sounds strange to you.”

“I can’t pretend I understand,” he replied courteously, “but I suppose I do somewhat know how it feels to not get the love you want.”

“Right. Because your mother and father made you work, didn’t they? I heard something about that.”

“Yes. It was simple for me. If I didn’t work, I didn’t get food. If I didn’t work, I didn’t have a nice bed to sleep in.”

Evelyn gaped at him. “What? Really?” She certainly never had to worry about food or sleep…

“I had chores I needed to do every day. Sometimes help out with my father’s business, as well. If I didn’t make the bed or tidy up my bedroom after using my toys before bedtime, I’d be locked in the basement for the night. And if I dodged any of my chores, then no food.” His eyes clouded over, and his hands threaded together. “It was… difficult at first. Spent a few days not having dinner, a week in the basement. You could say I learned fast what I had to do.”

“That sounds really messed up,” Evelyn said. Something about Janus’ tone seemed off, however. He didn’t say any of this with bitterness. He said it matter of fact, like it was normal that parents did this.

“I think it was smart of them,” Janus said shortly. “It installed a sense of discipline in me that I appreciate now. I didn’t appreciate it so much back then. It was their way of showing love. Making sure I’d never need to rely on anyone later on.”

“No offense, but that doesn’t sound like love at all.”

His eyes narrowed dangerously. “Think what you will. But I am glad for one that they gave me the lease on life that they did. Things might have been very different. Now, if you excuse me, I’m going to talk to the other air witch. Just getting to know the crew.” He gave her a short bow before leaving, and Evelyn couldn’t help but feel she’d offended him, despite her “no offense”.

Ah well. Maybe next time. Still, Janus didn’t seem nearly as grumpy as she’d expected someone like him to be. He also didn’t appreciate her saying anything bad about his family.

Wait, she realized with a cold rush of horror. Didn’t he recently lose his family…? Oh, sky curse her, she was about as subtle as a brick. She knew about that, yet decided to completely forget about it and speak ill of the dead.

What a genius. She glowered, and saw him now sitting next to Rukia and the scholarly crew member, and they seemed to be having a lot more fun than her. A small knot of jealously stirred. Irrational, but there all the same. She turned her attention back to the shifting skies and the land below, wondering how long it’d take before they reached the seas. Before they finally crossed the border into Zamorka.

A part of her hoped that they wouldn’t even make it that far. That something would turn up, forcing them to end their journey early. But she also somewhat understood the need to look into a potential cure for the Creeping Rot. Maybe there were some answers in Zamorka. Or maybe they’d just all die, and only the bones would be left to tell their tale.

She slouched back downstairs to see what Alex and the rest were getting up to, wondering if they’d progressed to arms and legs yet, or whether Alex had finally run out of magic.

A shame magic couldn’t quite fix her big mouth.

Chapter Four– Janus

It didn’t take very long before Janus decided he hated sailing. Being stuck on a wooden prison, as luxurious as they’d tried to make it, still felt horrid when big, sloshy rains pelted the deck or found ways to leak down the stairs along the corridors. During the first proper storm they had, both air witches were in the alcove, splitting duties, he presumed, so that one helped protect them from the brunt of the weather, and the other focused on getting them through it. Neither focused on keeping them particularly warm. Or stopping the rain sleeting their deck.

Worst came the hailstones, when they drifted high. Those tiny white bastards hit like rocks, and the whole deck rattled with the sound of impact. Hiding inside his cabin room did nothing to stop the noise—he still heard it like an incessant ticking clock, making it hard to sleep. He also wanted to shift into dragon form for some freedom, but the captain didn’t want any of them hopping off, even if they could fly. If a sudden storm or hurricane hit them, or worse, then there might be a high possibility of losing someone.

“Saw it happen once,” Captain Eswick said, his mustache twitching as he spoke. “One of the serpent lords, telling me that we’d be fine, he could easily land back on the deck if he wanted. And we flew… and the barometer went crazy. Sudden pressure drop. Next thing we knew, we were in the mouth of the underworld itself, bits of wood flying everywhere. Never saw that lord again.”

“And what was the lord’s name?” Janus had politely inquired, with a mind to background check the story.

“Lord Feylen,” Eswick said, “from Feylok Island. Perhaps you’ve heard of him?”

Come to think of it, Janus did hear about someone from Feylok Island dying on a trip. He didn’t know the specifics, however, as it was before his time, gathering connections and expanding his wealth. People liked the brutal efficiency of the Ruthe family. He had cousins, uncles, aunts, but didn’t speak much to them. But they all carried that family trademark of working for their pay.

“Yes, I’ve heard about him. I’m surprised you were the captain then.”

“Oh, I wasn’t a captain. I used to be a deckhand back in those days,” Eswick said, smiling. His peppery hair looked as though tiny snowflakes had landed within the black. Janus accepted his words for now, though a part of him still wanted to break free anyway. He doubted people would allow a dragon to sprawl out upon the deck.

Getting caught out in storms within open sky, however, wasn’t something he liked experiencing. It made the Elegant feel like a badly put together collection of wood and metal, and he just hoped the air witches could take away the brunt of the storm, and easily manage the part they did get affected by.

He also remembered how both air witches wanted no one talking to them, no one interrupting them. Because it took all of their energy to prevent the storm from messing with the ship.

At least they collected a lot of electricity, he supposed.

The landscape below them was invisible in the clouds now, but the captain seemed confident of their direction. “When we cross the seas, we want to make sure we’re high above Zamorka, so nothing sees us coming in, if possible. We’re so high up in the death zone now that we need the witches working day in, day out, to make sure we don’t succumb to oxygen deprivation and thinning air pressure.”

Death zone. What a terrifying concept. A section of sky that even he couldn’t penetrate. The air witch on duty now, Rukia, was reading a book and chewing on some kind of protein bar. That didn’t seem safe to Janus. Doing something when one lapse in concentration might kill them. But they didn’t die, so she obviously could handle some distraction.

He felt pretty sure that his parents would be angry at him for wasting so much money on a fool’s errand. Even with the knowledge that the disease would take them, and many others.

His first parents, though, the ones who were taken by the disease, quarantined on Serpent Isle… they would want this. Just like how they agreed to be isolated for everyone else’s safety—they would applaud him for taking the trip, risking his own safety to secure the lives of countless others.

Two sets of parents. Two types of lessons.

But who was right?

Meridas sauntered onto the deck, his face slightly flushed as if he’d spent his time laughing or being embarrassed, and he seemed to breathe easier in the fresher air.

“They’re playing Daggers and Demons downstairs right now,” Meridas said with a broad smile. “You’re missing out on quite the fun. Or are you concerned you’ll lose your tough man act if you’re seen reveling among the commoners?”

“You’re cheerful yourself for a man who might not make it out of their trip alive. Considering we are currently dealing with the unknown.”

“The point of us going into the unknown is so that it can be known. That’s kind of why we make expeditions in the first place. And why we’re bringing scholars.”

“And who has ever made it to Zamorka?” Janus held Meridas’ gaze, witnessing the flush in his cheeks disappearing.

“Us,” Meridas said. “Along with two people who can trace their bloodline back to the place. And I don’t exactly see anyone else lining up for the job, do you?”

“No,” Janus grudgingly agreed. There wasn’t much more to say after that. He left the people on deck to whatever it was they wanted to do, and made his way below to the kitchen galleys, casting his attention along the open spaces in the ship until his eyes settled upon Evelyn, also taking time out in the galley to eat some stew.

He didn’t know what to make of her. An air witch, sure. A talented one, about as apathetic of the trip as he was. And one who seemed to have little to no regard for his own background. He used people’s emotions as a playing point all the time in his business dealings… but something about how easily she’d dismissed his parents’ morals got on his nerves. He supposed he was more bruised about it than he wanted to admit.

People expected a certain thing out of him. They pounced on weakness. He knew that. He’d have to take some careful measures to make sure something like that didn’t contain any sting to his persona. She glanced up from her bowl, noticed him, then held her gaze in an almost defiant way, rather than look down as someone contrite might do.

Some of that anger stirred in him again, even though it’d been nearly a week since their conversation on deck. Before the storms and the wet and the dull moments of sailing that sent him almost mad with boredom.

So he strode right up to her. He didn’t know what he was going to say, or what about this woman vexed him so. “Bored of watching body parts being cut off?”

She paused in eating her stew, wrinkling her nose. She had all her hair tied back into a fluffy black cloud, and she didn’t appear too impressed with his comment. “What do you want?”

“To talk to you.”

“About?”

He gritted his teeth against the hostility. “You. And me.”

“What about us?” Now a little smirk appeared upon her lips, enough to make him want to slap it off.

“Is it me who has been avoiding you the past week, or is it you?”

This gave her pause in her attitude. “Me, I think,” she said then, and he raised  his eyebrows in mild surprise. He thought she’d accuse him. Because he was on a level. After all, he did run out on her on a not-yet-finished discussion. She pushed her stew aside, the steel of the spoon glinting in the orblight. “I figured I touched a nerve. Which was surprising, given the reputation you hold. But at the same time… I was thoughtless.  Obviously, the things that happened on Ruthen Isle compelled you to… be here.”

He relaxed slightly. “This is intended to be an apology?”

“I’m sorry,” she replied, but didn’t take her eyes off him.

“Accepted.” He drummed his fingers upon the wooden table she ate from. “Do you know of the fall of Serpent Isle?”

Evelyn nodded. “Not well. I know it was the main island of the dragon shifters. And it was struck by the Creeping Rot. People hoped the Rot had died with the island.”

“I was one of many children evacuated from that island. My birth parents died on it, and the Ruthes took me in and gave me a future. They may be many things, but clearly there was some kindness there, to adopt a child to take on their name.”

Gevard and Yera Ruthe. Stern, with faces rugged and set as if always expecting attack. Giving him chores, but teaching him how to do them properly first. They never assumed he could automatically do something. They always gave him a chance before punishment.

“You must have hated them as a child,” she said, before wincing.

“It’s okay,” he said. “I did. I wanted my real parents back. Not these imposters. It took a while for us to really warm up as a family unit together. But I’m glad we did in the end. Being here… it’s trying to honor all my parents.” He swallowed a lump, feeling slightly stupid for having realized this fact only just now. He also felt stupid, because once again, he was revealing far too much to a total stranger. One who he wasn’t sure had even earned the right to listen.

He did, somewhere, want someone to know him. And strangers were a great sounding board when they were completely removed from politics and the everyday life he endured.

“I get that. I mean, I can’t relate in that way completely, but I get that need to want to do right by them, somehow.” She gave him a tired smile. “Can’t be too easy, being Janus Ruthe.”

He made sure to sit opposite her now, tucking the chair in with minimal scraping. He pulled out a little bottle of Black Fire, and offered her the special whisky. She smiled, but declined. “Not my thing, but thanks, anyway.”

“Can I get you something instead?” he asked, unscrewing the cap and taking a small swig of the whisky himself. “Coffee? Tea?”

“No coffee,” she said adamantly. “I’m quite the fan of water. Which, as you can see, I already have.”

“How boring,” he said. “Drinks are usually a great ice breaker.”

“They’re bad for you,” she replied, “and I’d rather not have anything impairing me when it comes to air witch duties. Unless you don’t mind blacking out for a moment or two because there’s no oxygen.”

“Noted,” he said dryly. “Do you even spend much of your time on land?”

“Sure. Visiting exotic places, like Birdfoot Island...” And she was off, suddenly animated, eager to talk about all the places she had been. Which was a lot more places than he’d heard of. Tiny, isolated floating islands which traded all manner of strange goods, from animals to delicacies that people paid so much gold for.

He felt a tiny bit jealous of her travels, of experiencing so much, despite the fact that she seemed much younger to him. He straddled the ripe age of thirty-four himself, but she couldn’t have been older than twenty-seven.

“You know, I’m a little envious of you air witches,” he said, after she finished talking about her last run, with the colorful birds capable of mimicking human speech. “I’m a dragon. I can shift into a creature capable of flight, and yet I haven’t seen nearly as much of the world as you have. All these adventures, riding through storms… my ‘travels’ consisted of visiting the other isles and forging connections for my family, for the most part. Or reminding people of the ties they promised.”

“It’s not all fun and games,” she said with a gentle smile. “Some trips are complete failures. Others are embarrassing and boring and people rub each other the wrong way. It can get long and boring when you have nothing but open sky and beautiful weather. But I’d take long and boring over short and devastating.”

Janus snorted. “Swapping tales is how sailors stave off boredom?”

“Yes. Stories. Fake stories, true stories, scary ones and funny ones—they’re evening entertainment. There’s not much gambling because there isn’t much money between the sailors to pass around. People do think of bringing games, but usually they get trashed in a fit of rage at some point, because someone can’t handle losing too well.”

Somehow, Janus could see that happening with the sailors of the Elegant, if the scholars and deckhands ended up mixing together for games. He knew the quartermaster was the one who hoarded some of the more expensive entertainment, to only be released upon request, and returned the moment they were finished with. Perhaps he could join in some gambling games, and offer large sums of money to entice people into it. Might be marginally more amusing than this whole journey so far. “Perhaps I should gamble with you, instead. You have money of your own to put forward, yes?”

One of her eyebrows lifted, and she casually sipped at her drink. He noticed how clean and uniform her nails were. Clearly she enjoyed hygiene. “I have some, yes. But not nearly as much as you. What’s the gamble on? A game? Daggers and Demons?”

He grinned. “How quickly it’ll take before we decide we need a private room together to… explore our differences.”

She hastily put her drink down and wiped her mouth. “Wait. You’re interested in me?”

“Why not? You’re a pretty girl. Mind of your own, interesting life… and here on a mission that may or may not be dangerous. I’d be blind not to notice something about you.”

“Ha.” She gave a strange grin, and he couldn’t quite register the expression on her face. “I’m sorry. I thought… someone like you would not exactly be compatible with someone like me.”

The words had come out of him on a whim, but when they left his mouth, they helped explain just why he focused so much attention on her. He sure seemed to be surprising himself more and more lately. Doubtless this wasn’t the time and place, but boredom… well, that was a good excuse, right? Boredom.

“Maybe not,” he said. “Or maybe we’ll surprise each other.”

Her smile grew wider, more mischievous. “Been a while for you, has it?” She leaned forward, propping both elbows on the table. “Me, too.”

His smile froze, as he hadn’t quite expected that response from her. “Oh.” What should he say to that? “You seem more into this than I thought.”

She shrugged in response. “I’ve not had a boyfriend in a long time. I’ve had a few… quick relationships, but I don’t want to have a relationship with a crew member, and people don’t like having to wait for me when I go on my trips.”

“You wouldn’t want a relationship with a crew member?”

“No. Can you imagine what would happen if it didn’t work out for us? Being stuck together on the ship? One of us would need to leave. It’s not worth the tension.”

His heart picked up in pace, enough to have him rub his hands on his knees, because he became more aware of his body, of the sweat now pooling in his palms. “You don’t consider me a crew member?”

“Not like the captain and the deckhands, no. You’re a rich guest who has his own reasons for being here. This might be your ship, but you never intended to sail it yourself. Did you?”

He matched her smile, feeling an almost wicked delight boil through him. “How astute. Do you take up the bet, then?”

“No.” She popped the word, running a hand through her curly black hair. “I’m in the habit of betting to win, if I had to.”

It took him a moment to realize the implications of her statement. “You don’t intend to win this bet?”

Her leg lightly brushed his under the table, sending a surge of delight into his stomach. “That’s right. So perhaps you’d better bet on something else.”

Heat rushed through his body, igniting all his senses at once, making him hyperaware of everything happening. The way she breathed, and how her fur-covered chest moved with each breath. The way her lips parted slightly as she smiled and her dark eyes reflected the orblight all around, so she had several chips of light within them. The way she leaned forward, all interest, clearly focused on the topic.

He’d had women interested in him before. He brushed them aside, usually. But for some reason, having this air witch stare at him in such a way did all sorts of things to his insides. “How about a bet to see who will kiss whom first?”

She considered it for a moment. “That’s a game I can get with. I’m in. If I win, and you kiss me first—one thousand gold circs, I think.”

He smiled. “Deal. Do you have the money to counter it, or is there something else you can pay with?”

“A thousand is pushing it for me. Perhaps I’ll think of something else.”

“Deal.” He reached his hand out for her to shake. When their palms touched, it felt like a promise of something more exciting. Already, his mind flicked to the warm notion of them tucked in a bed in darkness somewhere, hands touching other areas of skin, all without their lips touching.

He stood up to go and get some food at last, tucking his little bottle away. She gave him a smirk and ran her tongue ever so slowly over her bottom lip. This will make the trip much more interesting…

Chapter Five – Evelyn

The knowledge of a “bet” going on with Janus Ruthe made her interactions with him far more interesting. Knowing he had interest in her spiked up the adrenaline, and reminded her just how long it’d been since her last romp. Sex had been nothing that lasted long for her in the profession of an air witch. She didn’t exactly have a laundry list of sexual partners, but enough to understand what she liked, and how to take precautions to make sure nothing happened that she didn’t want.

It kept her smiling, right until the moment that they made it to the continental seas, crossing the treacherous body of water to a place people only whispered about.

Turned out, the seas were horrendous places for hurricanes to form. Evelyn knew something about weather, since her job relied on it, but she didn’t know just how powerful storms were at sea. Three days into their crossing over the continental sea, they caught the suggestion of a monumental storm. The captain didn’t think they’d outrun it anyway, but cautioned Rukia and Evelyn to be on deck. Rukia had been up all night, and she looked slightly out of it.

“I just hope it’s not a big storm,” she’d said—right before the howler struck. Darkness fell. Wind pressure dropped. Even at their height just above the clouds, there was no escape. The weather battered them. Evelyn clenched her jaw and diverted all her magic into maintaining the bubble of calm around their ship, since Rukia probably didn’t have the energy to do so herself. Poor woman was running low, she could sense it.

“Thought I was being smart, taking the extra shift,” Rukia hissed, steering the ship to higher heights, though they didn’t know how high the hurricane reached. “You seem to be better at concentrating long distance. I could have rested, you’d still have plenty of energy left over when it was my turn again...”

Even with the bubble Evelyn placed around the ship, she couldn’t stop everything. Winds came through her bubble in bursts, icy and strong and tearing at the sails. Rukia, usually so cheerful, held onto Evelyn’s arm tightly and didn’t let go, and her entire body seemed to shake. The captain had strapped himself to the wheel, and took sheets of rain and wind into his body, although partially obscured by a shelter. Crew members fought to take down the sails, so that Rukia could power them with no assistance, since the wind breaking through tore at their attempts to stay straight, lurching the ship from side to side.

Sound became chaos, with the constant scream of air, the relentless beating against their ship.

“It doesn’t feel like a natural storm!” Rukia shouted at Evelyn—she needed to, given the strength of the noise.

The wind continued to beat at Evelyn’s bubble, and she barely managed to snag one terrified crew member as he went flying off the deck—she seized him in a fistful of controlled wind and dumped him back on solid ground. To his credit, he persisted straight away with tucking in the main sail, and managed it with one other helper. For a moment, Evelyn risked incredible damage to the ship, focusing her safe bubbles only on those struggling crew members and the captain, hoping she and Rukia would be safe in the alcove. Not that it provided a complete barrier of security anyway, but it was better than nothing. They were sheltered from three directions, but not the one that faced the captain, who was also only partially sheltered from three directions.

Rukia gave a little gasp, and Evelyn realized too late she hadn’t warned the other tired witch what she planned to do. The sails went down, but the storm grew ferocious. Large objects slammed into the ship, like parts of buildings, and lodged into the deck, squashing an unfortunate crew member underneath.

“Protect the whole ship!” Rukia screamed at Evelyn, and she hastily expanded her power again, cursing her decision.

The main mast was slammed by something small and gray, and it splintered upon impact, before being whisked away by the deadly storm. Their upward ascent became a sudden, suctioning descent, with Rukia screaming that she wasn’t controlling the ship anymore.

Fine, I’ll do it, Evelyn thought with a snarl, trying to take over the role of wind direction as well—only to discover that there was something far more powerful yanking on the winds, out of her control. Her heart beat a frenzied rhythm of fear, as she was unable to wrench control from the mysterious entity.

She could only protect the crew from the brunt of the damage, as Rukia joined her with the task, though not without some significant effort on her part.

The storm howled around them as if it were an entrance to the underworld, with nothing but darkness and sound and cold. Nothing safe or warm in sight.

* * *

Crash. Hours of being tossed in the storm ended with a sudden impact into dark, barren ground. The ship skidded along, sloughing out a trench as dead and blackened trees were plowed out of the way, and the voice of the storm was drowned by the creaking groan of the forest. They shuddered and jerked along the shadowy forest floor until slowing to a halt, then bobbing back into the air, only floating a few feet or so above the ground. Rukia and Evelyn glanced at one another.

The storm still raged, but it was calmer, quieter than before, and muffled by the trees that grew with black leaves and vines twisting around them. A black forest, with ashen-colored soil, as if torched by wildfires a long time ago, and the leaves had regrown, soot-dusted. A few leaves and broken twigs fell onto the deck, and the wreckage that pinned someone beneath where the former main mast stood was now dribbling blood, no longer washed away by the rains.

The captain unstrapped himself and dashed into the heart of the ship, and came back out a moment later with Alex, Meridas and Janus following. The life witch checked under the rubble for the injured, possibly dead, crew member.

Rukia let out a soft groan next to Evelyn, and her eyes sank shut. She slumped, unconscious, and Evelyn helped drag her into the small bed just behind their main sitting alcove. She’d be fine. Just magically exhausted. She did very well, despite being low on magic all that time. Evelyn’s own magic felt low, and she moved with a certain lethargy onto the deck, as more people emerged.

“What happened?” the captain asked, his mustache bristling. “Did you lose control of the ship?”

“Yes,” Evelyn said with a wince. All attention focused on her. She didn’t want to alarm them any further, but withholding information was pointless. “Something took over control of the ship’s winds. Rukia and I combined couldn’t stop it. We were dragged here by something we don’t yet understand.”

“Cursed!” One of the crew members appeared ready to faint, though a couple of the scholars seemed pissed off about the cursed announcement. Meanwhile, Alex’s magic flared. People dug through the rubble enough to reveal the crew member, whose chest rose and fell.

“He’s lucky to have survived this,” Alex said. “He lost a lot of blood, but where he was impaled—it just missed his heart. Might have still bled out if we didn’t land.”

Janus gave Evelyn an appraising look as murmurs of relief or fear rippled through their group. Twenty-five people strong for now. The main crew itself was only fourteen people, including the two cooks. Not including Rukia and Evelyn. The scholars made up seven in total, with Janus and Meridas as the patrons of the trip.

“We need to assess the damage,” Captain Eswick said with a frown, “but we’re going to need repairs if we want some smooth sailing back. I don’t suppose anyone spotted a nearby town or something when we were descending through the storm…?”

“On Zamorka?” a crew member Evelyn vaguely remembered as Bennen scoffed. “You think these savages have anything other than curses and cannibalism?”

“How would you know what they are if you’ve never visited the place?” one of the scholars snapped, with an expression that suggested he was done with the idiocy of others.

“The stories exist for a reason,” Bennen said, now indicating the black forest around them. “Or are you suggesting that this looks like a nice, ordinary forest where nothing can possibly go wrong? Did you forget what the air witch said? That we were pulled here by something more powerful than the two of them combined?”

He made some good points, Evelyn privately thought, but the growing panic served no one.

“Be calm,” Janus said, in a voice laced with both authority and menace. It cut through the group like a knife, and the dissent dissolved into silence. “At this point, we know nothing. Making assumptions and fear-mongering serves no one but that which can kill us. We must keep our heads, formulate a plan, and somehow do what we came here to do. If we can find a place to repair, fantastic. Otherwise, we’ll need to work on repairs ourselves.”

“We can move the ship as it is,” Evelyn said. “But it’ll take more energy from us.” And without the main sail, pushing the ship forward would drain them of power at a faster rate, requiring more breaks.

But it was possible. Just as long as they didn’t get caught in a storm like that again. Moving would be safer than having them all trespass on foreign soil and be picked off by whatever wild creatures lingered in the territory.

Could it have been due to the influence of the island? All around where she looked, she saw only ashen ground, black trees and leaves, and gray rocks. The trees reached hundreds of feet into the air, and some were wider than several people standing next to each other.

“Perhaps we should have invested in bringing a light witch,” Janus muttered to Meridas, but within hearing of Evelyn.

“Fascinating,” one of the female scholars said, picking up a black leaf. “This shouldn’t be possible. The chlorophyll in a leaf and the green coloring are all a direct relation to being able to absorb sunlight. Yet these don’t seem to be fed by sunlight at all… perhaps like a fungus?” She passed the leaf around to the other scholars, who huddled together like sheep, excitedly discussing the single black leaf. The now-healed sailor gave Alex a huge bear hug, thanking her in a weeping voice for his life.

“I wonder just how much danger we’re in,” Janus said softly, hands clasped behind him as he regarded the dark expanse of the Zamorkan forest. If the crew wanted to be convinced that Zamorka was a perfectly ordinary land without any curses lodged within it, a black forest wasn’t the best way of representing things.

“I don’t think anyone should go wandering alone, for sure,” Evelyn said, stepping beside him. “I am concerned that whoever took control of the ship during the storm is watching over us right now.” And I can’t sense them at all.

It was a horrible implication to consider, but they had different priorities to sort out. Checking how much damage their ship sustained was one. Reinforcing the notion that nobody traveled alone was another, though Evelyn thought the sailors were too terrified of being in a cursed land to even want to leave the ship. In the meanwhile, she was on the hunt for foreign magic, trying to trace if any of it was latching onto them still. Eventually, their battered ship trundled into the air again, with both air witches pushing it forward.

It moved just above the treeline in the rains, until they saw, unmistakably, what looked like a settlement within a mountainous valley. And other airships, much, much smaller than the Elegant, leaving and entering a docking platform towering from the ground, which was multilayered and well organized, and very, very different from the ports Evelyn had seen in her travels.

Much to the alarm of Rukia and Evelyn, something came hurtling from the skies towards their ship, far faster than their present traveling speed.  The something turned out to be a red-haired man, who alighted himself on the deck with practiced ease and strode up to the captain, holding what looked like a clipboard and a pen. By the time Janus and Meridas made it to the deck with Alex and a few other nervous crew members, the captain had finished his conversation with the stranger.

“Uh...” Eswick said, after Rukia and Evelyn stopped pushing the ship forward and came to listen, “This uh, man, is part of… docking security. We are to state our purpose, how long we intend to stay, what services we require… and he will give us a platform number for us to dock at. Hem.” Eswick clearly seemed unnerved at being addressed by a Zamorkan male—especially one that appeared to be an air witch. Was witch appropriate? Evelyn had never heard of a male practitioner before. Or anticipated anything in Zamorka being organized. She would have gone so far as to say the whole thing was an elaborate trick, but the signs of civilization simply couldn’t be ignored.

Meridas appeared equally flummoxed by the apparent organization. “May I… ask your name… sir?”

“Perryn,” the man said with a little smile. He also had a musical accent, unfamiliar to Evelyn’s ears. “I take it from the captain’s reaction and yours that you have never visited Leavenport before?”

Meridas and Janus shook their heads mutely, wary, fully aware that if one man could so casually land upon their ship, many more could swarm them in moments. Evelyn caught the smaller forms of other air witches flocking around arriving ships.

“We’ve never, uh,” Eswick said, clearing his throat, “been to Zamorka before.”

Perryn’s slack-jawed mouth hung open in a little o. “Well, this is a pleasant surprise! We don’t get many of your type over here.” His green eyes raked the dark-haired, dark-eyed, and darker-skinned crew with some admiration. “No wonder there is so much black hair in your crew! Your colorings are very rare here. Our people would find you exotic, with your accents, and your beautiful dark hair.”

“Yes,” Eswick said, his brown eyes narrowed in concentration. Evelyn wasn’t sure if she liked Perryn’s observation of them. “We have heard… adverse things about Zamorka.”

The air witch nodded sagely. “Yes, I know as such. You’ll be safe in Leavenport, and the coastal towns and cities. You don’t want to be heading to the center. That’s where the wild magic is.”

“Wild magic?” This time one of the scholars spoke. She held a pencil and was eagerly scribbling down every word said. She was huddled in blue robes, and had very short black hair.

“We can explain more of that later,” he said to her with a faint smile, “if part of your intention of staying at Leavenport is to collect information about wild magic.”

All in all, the interaction with the Zamorkan witch went absolutely nothing like Evelyn had ever dreamed. They declared they were staying for information-gathering and repairs, estimating a month, maximum, of time, depending on how successful their information-gathering was, and to explore Leavenport, possibly beyond. They were given a dock number, and their ship was able to park near the bottom of the huge docking platform, completely covering one side where normally three smaller ships might have been able to settle in.

It felt so strange, observing so many air witches casually drifting through the city, some of them even responsible for steering smaller vehicles that could only host a few people at a time. In the Undercity and the Six Isles, they limited flying to only going between above and below, and for the skyship expeditions, because they didn’t have that many air witches. But here, magic was… commonplace.

However, what wasn’t commonplace, apparently, were the two dragons in their midst, and the life witch. Leavenport had its own scholars, who flocked around Meridas, Janus, and Alex incessantly. Since no one wanted to offend their current magical hosts, they agreed to most of the demands given to them, such as staying in a hotel, allowing themselves to be interviewed, and promising not to go into the wild magic without a thorough understanding of it first.

Janus seemed to be stressing at all the sidetracking. He obviously wanted their problem back home to be solved as soon as possible, and all this to him merely served as a distraction. If she had been closer to him, she could probably have comforted and assured him, but instead, she just awkwardly sidled up to him just outside the hotel they were presented at, and said, “Don’t worry too much. It may seem like we’re wasting time now, but this should save us time and lives in the long run. Remember, we thought we were going into wild lands. No one expected to find a civilization living and thriving.”

He gave her a wry smile in return. “I understand that, logically. But I can’t help but feel like we’re wasting time all the same.”

She wondered if she should do something comforting, like pat him on the back. Would that seem condescending? Like she was trying too hard? Would he even welcome it? She settled instead for holding his shoulder for a couple of seconds. The only other person who seemed even more nervous than Janus was Meridas, who kept glancing around as if expecting them to be assassinated at any moment. “It feels a little strange to me to see so many air witches. And male ones. Why d’you think we don’t have male ones back in the Six Isles?”

“Simple,” a low voice drawled behind them. They whirled to see a tall, ghost-white male with gray-white hair staring at them through hooded eyes. Barely any muscle seemed to complement his wasted appearance. “The male magic is recessive. If a Zamorkan man mixes with anyone not Zamorkan, any males born to him will have little chance of power. It can happen. It’s just very rare.  Zamorkan females, however, are dominant in their genes. The magic originates with them. They say one single woman went deep into the wild magic, and returned with power so vast that it could blot out the sun.” He seemed to be enjoying his unasked-for history lesson to them.

“Would this be the Red Woman?” Janus asked, and the man blinked in surprise, clearly not expecting the outlanders to know anything about Zamorkan history.

“Yes. She lived for hundreds of years and had many children, before vanishing to distant lands.” He squinted his eyes suspiciously at them. “One might ask if your trip here has anything to do with the Red Woman.”

“Yes,” Janus said, while Meridas, now eavesdropping, let out a soft groan. People passed them, many stopping to gape openly at their crop of dark hairs. Seemed people from the Undercity and the Six Isles were really rare. As for Zamorkan colors, they went from blond to red to sheer white. “That’s part of the main reason we’re here.”

“He might be the enemy,” Meridas hissed between clenched teeth, after dragging Janus away from the stranger. The stranger, however, appeared to hear perfectly.

“I assume the Conclave’s been giving you issues,” he said. “We have much to discuss, it seems.”

“Who are you?” Janus asked, while Meridas made an ominous hissing noise in the back of his throat, which was noticed by Alex.

“Someone interested in stopping the Conclave as much as you,” he replied. He handed something to Janus, bowed, then walked away, ignoring their calls for him to return. The paper he handed showed an address and a time. Tomorrow at seven. The Doppelganger Inn.

Well, Evelyn thought. This whole situation got weirder and weirder.

Chapter Six – Janus

Trouble could wait. Right now, Janus wanted to spend time unwinding, and pretending he wasn’t nearly as stressed as he was. Which proved hard, given that the Creeping Rot threat trickled in the back of his mind like a sandglass running out of granules. Any moment, Ruthen Island’s core might become infected, initiating mass evacuations. By the time they made it back, it might be entirely possible that every single island had fallen, and the Creeping Rot had instead spread through the Undercity populace, leaving them with no thriving country to return to.

And now they were staying in some unknown city, with everyone being poked and prodded by far more powerful hosts. Currently, Janus sat in the atrium of the hotel in his serpent form, and Zamorkans were pouring in by the dozen, exclaiming in delight at the sight of a long, white dragon curled up, with huge feathery wings furled into himself. He just wanted the excuse to shift, because emotions became duller in dragon form, and it was easier to regard everything in a logical manner. Not to say he couldn’t feel emotions. Dragons certainly could panic and rage. But right now, in the shafts of sunlight that streamed from the open top of the atrium, filtering through some of the greenery lining the tiered floors, he could relax.

And let the Zamorkans treat him like some kind of exotic exhibit. Two red-haired children darted in close to his snout, giggling. Out of detached amusement, he unfurled his forked tongue and licked one of them all up the body, and the little boy fell back, squealing, while their friends behind them laughed.

His parents would be furious to see him here now. Wasting time. Sitting here, doing nothing, when he could be using that spare time constructively, towards something that earned money, reputation, or luxury.

When Evelyn strode into the atrium from the far-left entrance into his vision, with her black hair bouncing, her long, yellow dress rippling like the winds she controlled, and her dark eyes so large that they seemed like windows to the soul, he shifted back into human form.

Much to the disappointment of the Zamorkan children, who had apparently been daring each other to try and climb onto his back. What was it about Evelyn that fascinated him, exactly? Perhaps her calm demeanor. Perhaps that she didn’t seem too open to talking about herself. Sure, he knew about her family and the expectations heaped upon her, but about her, personally?

Not enough. “What are you doing here?” he said by way of greeting, brushing down his collared button shirt. Transforming with clothes required a little more energy, but was worth the effort of expending, since he didn’t want people seeing him walk around naked.

“Looking for you,” she said frankly. “Luckily you weren’t hard to find. You’ve got the local population hysterical with happiness at the thought of encountering a dragon. Nice form, by the way.” She flicked him a smile, which he returned more thinly.

“Well, we must do everything in our power to make our hosts enjoy our time spent here,” he said, walking towards her and holding out an arm imperiously. A tiny surge of delight shot through him when she looped her arm with his, but he kept his expression neutral as they walked over to the atrium’s bar, laden with drinks and foods, including a selection of sandwich fillings in metal containers, and cakes. “I’m not too keen on the idea of irritating thousands of witches.”

“Me neither,” Evelyn said. “They all act oblivious, though, when I ask them what they know about whoever could have dragged us into the black forest.”

“I doubt they’re ready to give up all their secrets,” he said, now pausing at the stand, so they could select the food they wanted. She opted for some kind of vegetable filling, he went for beef and cheese, which they wrapped up in foil and placed on top of a grill with flames flickering underneath. They continued their relaxed conversation, and Janus found himself imagining how his parents would have reacted if he’d brought her home to see them. Didn’t matter they were dead. It felt… nice, somehow, to picture them alive and healthy, meeting for the first time someone he… liked? Did he like her?

He pursed his lips, watching her eat her sandwich. Enough, it seemed, to, well, picture his mother barking at Evelyn, asking about her background and her family.

“Yes, yes, I’ve spoken to your mother in court. Very good woman. Tad on the poor side, but nothing we can’t fix. Heard you’re a renowned air witch. Best in the Six Isles. Yes, my son here’s been talking about you...”

“What are you thinking about?” Evelyn asked, interrupting his thoughts and the heavy weight on his lips as they curved upwards, but without happiness.

“I was… just thinking about how my mother would have reacted to you. If I introduced you to her.”

Her dark eyes softened. “Ah. That explains the sad smile, then.” She wiped her mouth, giving him a knowing one in return. “Lady Ruthe scared me, honestly, the few times I did see her.”

“Yeah, she would have,” Janus replied, now warring with some conflicting emotions within. Something deep and hollow opened up somewhere in his guts, and it gnawed away, leaving a kind of… depression afterward. He chewed on his melted cheese and beef roll, hoping the tastes might divert him from too much dwelling.

They hadn’t deserved to go out like that. After all their hard work, their time improving Ruthen Island to be one of the most powerful of the Six Isles, second only to the king’s isle itself—and they’d died. They would have been childless as well, if not for the orphaned dragon boy they adopted after the fall of Serpent Isle.

“We needed an heir,” his new father had explained quite candidly to Janus. “And out of all the children we could have picked, we wanted one to be a dragon. Something old and noble and powerful to take the place of the child we could never have.”

In an attempt to ignore the wallowing emptiness in his gut region, he dredged words out of his throat. “I do think she would have liked you. The same might not be said of you to her. I could think of worse women to show to her, though.” He crept out a hand towards her, wondering if she’d take the bait or just watch it like it was some kind of alien creature moving across the table.

Her own hand went on top of his, the fingers lightly trailing his knuckles. “I do know that my own family, of course, would probably have a heart attack in their excitement if they knew I was personally associating with members of the Ruthe family. The only family above you in status, I think, is the royals. Which is a shame. I wouldn’t mind if you were dirt poor. It’d be amusing listening to my mother attempt to be nice but not quite hide her disapproval at my life choices.”

“You live to aggravate your parents, do you?” he replied, smiling. Her hand felt so warm on top of his.

“Who doesn’t?” she grinned, before doing an overly dramatic roll of her eyes. “At least yours didn’t make you feel like a cow fattened for slaughter, did they?”

“Fattened, perhaps,” he said, flipping his palm upward and stroking the underside of her own hand. She reacted with a tiny shiver, which in turn zapped something through his own stomach that somewhat abated the hollowness inside.

“You know, at this rate, you might be the one to break the terms of the bet,” she said, lips parting slightly so that the tip of her tongue could be seen resting over her bottom teeth. “If you’re going to continue to get this friendly.”

“It’s not my fault you allow me to be this friendly,” he replied, not ceasing in his stroking motion upon her. He noticed little hairs on her arm raising slightly, and inhaled deeply to catch that windblown scent of hers. “But perhaps an unknown city isn’t the best place to continue… exploring the limits of our bet.”

“Who cares?” She grabbed his hand hard. “I sure as damnation don’t know what’s happening tomorrow or the next day. Maybe we should go right now and explore our new rooms. See if they’re… up to standard.”

“Sure,” he said with a confident smirk. “But I’d like to finish my food first.”

* * *

If nothing else, the unknown city did have some beautifully designed suites. They enjoyed a dark brown and orange color scheme, with lush, patterned drawers, a wardrobe, and a dressing table for women. There was also an entrance to a small but opulent bathroom, with the tub connected to a boiler that heated up the water. Evelyn seemed quite taken with the red-sheeted, four-poster bed, and so was Janus—but for other reasons.

He noted the way her attention kept flitting to the bed, and sometimes to his lips, as if daring him to kiss her. But no. He didn’t plan to be the one to lose this bet. But he did intend to see how far the two of them intended to go. Another useful thing the room had as well—and he’d checked discreetly in one of the drawers—condoms.

How thoughtful of their hosts. “How far do you intend to go with me?” he asked her. Nothing wrong with being direct. She preferred directness herself, which Janus wasn’t always sure he appreciated.

In response, she began to peel off that rippling dress of hers, as if casually planning to change into her pajamas.

“Depends if you plan to do something about this, or if you’re going to just watch like an idiot,” she said, now checking the same drawers he had. “Hmm… I wonder if this happens to be their love suite or something?”

“Have to make those baby Zamorkans somehow,” he said, though he couldn’t quite control the desire in his voice when looking at her. He expected to be the one in control of this situation, but it seemed Evelyn had other ideas.

“Did I mention to you that it’s been a while…?” She patted at her white brassiere, with matching colored underwear. “What goods do you have hiding under those clothes?”

“This.” Grinning, he popped the buttons off his own top, but kept his pants on. For now. He quickly checked himself out, trying not to make it obvious, since he wanted to make sure he didn’t have anything out of place, or too much flab around his middle. Not that he needed to worry. Her eyes were wide and the pupils blown. He also didn’t hear any breathing from her. He allowed a confident smirk to plaster over his lips, before sauntering up to her and placing his hands upon the small of her back.

That caused her to start breathing again, but faster, and he felt her blood thumping erratically under her skin as he pulled her close. Sure, they might be on a life-or-death mission in an unknown country. Sure, he might be killed at that place where the man wanted him and Meridas to go. There were far too many variables for him to adequately plan for, so he wanted to take control of at least something in his life.

And with someone as attractive as this…. someone who certainly seemed to know her own mind, what she wanted, and who she wanted it from. That kind of confidence ignited a fire in him, a feeling to best her, somehow, in a field she enjoyed.

And well… it’d be fun to see which one of them cracked first. He moved his hands up her body, sliding his fingers under the strap of her brassiere, but not sliding it off. He continued the tease, reveling in her warmth pressed against his chest, in how his growing erection prodded at his pants and against her stomach.

Neither of them kissed. Both had their lips open in knowing smiles, but neither intended to be the one to lose the bet. He continued running his hands over her body, and relished every touch of her own hands. However, she got a little impatient, for her right palm slipped into his pants and grasped at his almost fully formed erection, clearly wanting to speed things up.

“Oh no, you don’t,” he said, taking her fingers off, pushing her backwards onto the bed. “Not before I’ve had a little more from you.”

She let out a little groan of frustration, which was drowned in a gasp of surprise as he went onto the bed with her, pinning her arms down. “I get you’re impatient, but I don’t want to be finished before you are...”

Still letting her keep her bra on, he began tugging off her underwear. Her eyes went wide in astonishment, before she helped him take them off, and he parted her legs, leaving her core exposed with the thin thatch of hair around it.

His tongue went to work at the softness there, which quickly grew wet with his ministrations, not just from his tongue, but from her squirming, gasping reaction. She did need to stop moving around so much…

Swallowing the urge to just rip off his own pants and plunge himself into her already, he continue to lick her out, careful not to press his lips onto her nub, in case she tried to do some wayward interpretation of their bet, until he felt her shuddering and twitching beneath him. She let out a long, sighing moan, body arching upward, causing him to shiver in increased excitement. Muscles in her thighs quivered with the unleashing of tension, and she whimpered at him to stop, because of the increased sensitivity there.

He loved the way her hair splayed out on the covers, so wild and curly, like an animal’s mane. He loved the way her scent enveloped him, speaking to that primal instinct in his brain that wanted to fuck, to consume his partner, rather than take it slow and gentle.

His fingers shook as he pulled down his pants and underwear, and tore open the small packet to place the condom over his erection. A moment later, he moved up her body, resisting the urge to shove his face against her skin and start kissing along it, and tested her reaction to him waiting at her entrance. He slowly pushed in, squeezing his eyes shut at the warmth and constriction.

Shamefully, he could only manage around a minute of increasing movement inside her before heat boiled through his groin and shot out with a release of pressure and pleasure all at once.

Mine, he whispered against her ear, giving a light nip. Teeth—not a kiss. He breathed hot air down the back which caused her to flinch violently.

“Skies, that was way too nice,” she gasped, before he managed to extricate himself and lie by her side.

He had to agree. His least favorite part now remained. Peeling off the condom. That was always fun. Having it off left a stickiness clinging to him that he instantly went to wash off. A sleepy happiness flooded through his body, making him want to slump next to her, but he also didn’t want to relax too much. What with the bet and all.

Instead, he focused on dressing himself back up again, under her slightly disapproving stare.

“As much as I’d like to lie next to you, pretty one,” he said, “I know I’ll be tempted to kiss you if I do.”

She let out a little hmph, before both her eyebrows flicked up. “Wait. We really did just have sex without the kissing, didn’t we?”

“We sure did. Not quite as romantic… but it’s still… pleasurable,” he said, buttoning up his shirt. He took his time to do so, noting how she enjoyed watching the act.

The cool air around him helped lower his otherwise heated body temperature, and his heart rate had now slowed to acceptable margins. If they did survive long enough to return to the Six Isles and settle back into a sense of normalcy, they’d probably talk about this moment as a brief spell of madness between them. Admirable, really, how a human, or indeed, dragon mind could seek to distract itself.

It would be nice if we could have met in more favorable circumstances, he thought sadly.

“You could always take a bath with me…?” she suggested, now sitting up in bed, hopeful. Not shy or covering herself up.

“Perhaps another time.” Sensing her growing disappointment, he moved over to her and held her right hand, squeezing it briefly. The terms of the bet suddenly seemed ridiculous to him now. But since she didn’t make any move, neither did he.

He wasn’t quite that mature of a person. “Thank you,” he said to her softly. “I enjoyed this. I look forward to any more time spent together.” He lifted his other hand to brush one of her wonderfully soft, still-flushed cheeks. She leaned into the touch with a sleepy smile. It felt a little… sacred, somehow, having someone else lean into his hand like this. He hadn’t done anything nearly this intimate with any of his other relationships. He’d gone through the long-term courting process, and when it finally came to the sex part… sure, it was enjoyable. Any sex could be, regardless of the partner. But he’d never felt so eager to watch someone else in pleasure as he had just now. He didn’t understand some of the men’s complaints in court when they had their gentlemen gatherings, about how women were just so hard to please.

Seemed to him paying some attention to a woman was pleasing enough. Just… being attentive. Already, his mind started working through potential gift ideas for her, ways to express interest in her beyond this.

“Wow, you’re so polite after sex,” she said with a wavering smile, as if trying not to laugh. “That’s not something I’m used to.”

“Pity. My mother always said a lady liked it if she was treated as such.”

Evelyn arched an eyebrow. “Seems she was quite wise in this idea. But you know… we don’t always like to be treated as ladies. Sometimes we like something a little extra.”

“You can tell me all about it.” He stroked her under the chin with one finger, before moving away to put on his shoes. “But I think I’d better find out what Meridas is up to.”

She settled herself back under the covers. “Good idea. And, um, thank you as well.”

He gave her a polite bow, before closing the door behind him. The moment the door shut, the smile on his face vanished.

One of the Zamorkan hotel attendants lay on the floor, a red, cloying stain spreading beneath him. His glassy eyes saw nothing. A knot of unease drowning the last of his happiness from earlier, Janus headed to the man, bent over him, and tested for a pulse, even though he knew there wouldn’t be one. Before Janus found the words to express himself, to raise the alarm, he heard someone shrieking to his right.

“Murder! There’s been a murder! The foreigners killed one of our own!”

He turned just in time to see the caller, a lean, blond-haired man, who caught his eyes. Even from the distance, Janus felt the sheer hatred emanating from the individual.

A set-up, he thought, as people began pouring down the corridor from both ends, and some of their crew members opened their doors in curiosity.

Chapter Seven – Evelyn

The cell was decidedly less comfortable than the bedroom. Evelyn didn’t much appreciate the single cell, or the angry, judgmental glares of the prison wardens who patrolled the cells. Anybody’s attempts to try and explain the situation were rebuffed. Meridas was missing, and Janus, she knew, was in a special prison that stopped him shapeshifting.

Funny how things turned out, really. One moment she’d been enjoying a rather vigorous sex session with Janus—the next, hauled out of her room by stone-faced authorities who seemed to think she might have had something to do with a murder in the corridor outside her room.

“It’s an obvious set-up,” Alex snapped from within one of the cells. The woman had been particularly agitated at being thrust into a cell. She’d unfortunately been on her way to inspect her rooms when she was caught. “There’s no benefit for any of us to get ourselves arrested. Someone wants us silenced.” Her brown-green eyes blazed in both fury and fear. “First we’re battered by a storm by someone who doesn’t want us reaching here, then within a day of arriving, we’re arrested for something we didn’t do!”

“Silence!” one of the guards snarled, banging his spear against her cell cage. A loud clang vibrated through the thin corridor, where about six of them were jailed. The rest of the crew were still at large, as far as they were aware. Unable to be implicated for a murder if they were on the other side of the city, naturally. But they were in the process of being found and brought in, due to group responsibility.

The gloomy little cell provided little light from within. All the light came from the orblights in the corridor where four black-clothed guards paced up and down, all wielding spears. At least two of them had magic—Evelyn smelled them using it constantly, and figured that the magic probably enhanced their physical fighting skills. Though she couldn’t be entirely sure, since she’d only read about it in school. They hadn’t had combat witches in the Isles for a while.

Alex looked as if she wanted to snap back at the guard, but thankfully held her tongue. Evelyn, however, couldn’t.

“We know we’re being framed, yes. We can assume the Conclave of Zamorka is behind it, as they’ve been seeking our fall for quite some time.”

The guard turned on her now, the physical magic thrumming through him.

“We haven’t got time for this,” Alex said. “The Creeping Rot’s killing our people and our islands as we speak.”

The guard, who was about to slam his spear against Evelyn’s cage, was stopped by the other guard humming with physical magic.

“Prisoner,” the second guard said in a baritone, “did you just say you’re having issue with Creeping Rot?” He continued to make aggressive silencing motions to the other guards, clearly wanting to listen further.

“Yes. One of our island’s floating cores is infected with it now. People with magic are being afflicted and killed. And...” she licked her lips, “I had an altercation with a Conclave member during my journey to try and heal the island.”

The guard crouched by her cell, leaning on his spear. Evelyn approached the cell bars and wrapped her hands around them, pressing her face as close as possible to eavesdrop on the conversation.

The guard rubbed his face. “You were hoping to get answers to the Rot here, I take it?”

Alex nodded, though her body language was hunched and suspicious.

“We shouldn’t let the prisoner speak, they will fill us with lies—”

“Shut up, Ket. If they have important information, let them speak it. Just because they’re foreigners doesn’t mean they’re lying.”

Between Evelyn and Alex, helped by a few pointers from the other four unfortunate sailors imprisoned with them, they related an accurate tale of their journey here. The most fascinating information came from Alex, who talked about the Red Woman, the dying core of one of the Six Isles, and the people who succumbed to the Rot. Like Janus’ parents. Both sets.

Despite themselves, the other three guards seemed wholly absorbed in the information as well.

“It does sound like they were set up, Ket,” the friendly guard known as Izek said. “And I don’t see why they’d be lying about this.”

“Wild magics take us,” Ket spat. “Our laws state they’re to be executed without trial if within reasonable suspicion of murder. And because they’re foreigners… people won’t believe them.”

“We’d be… executed?” Alex’s voice suddenly sounded small.

“It is a perfect solution to their prodding around in Leavenport, isn’t it? Especially if we’d stuck to our instructions and not allowed them to speak, or listen to them.” Izek appeared deeply uncomfortable. The originally aggressive guard, Ket, now paced up and down in agitation.

“I don’t know what we should do. We break our own rules if we listen to them and argue on their behalf. But if the Conclave is continuing to meddle with people’s lives...”

“I take it this mysterious, shadowy organization causes you issues as well?” Alex posed the question in a dry manner, though she did appear more relaxed once the guards had shown some sympathy towards their cause. Evelyn noted how the guards seemed more inclined to listen to her in general compared to everyone else. Was it because of the Zamorkan blood inside her?

“The Conclave’s been assassinating people in Leavenport for years,” Izek said, letting out a big sigh. “Most of their members have gone into the wild magic at some point, and come out changed. We don’t really know why. They make some statement about changing civilization for the better… but from what we’ve seen, the wild magic makes them… destructive.” He held one hand over his lips. “We need to say this. We can’t just pretend nothing happened.”

Ket let out a growl of frustration. “Want to bet they don’t have anyone listening in on us right now?”

A deadly silence permeated those words. All four guards exchanged meaningful expressions with one another. One of the guards, Evelyn noted, seemed to be sweating more profusely than the others. He also had what seemed to be a nervous tic in his eyelid.

“How long did you say you were working here, again, Paul?” said Izek, now standing and prowling to Paul’s side. Ket honed in upon him like a predator seeking flesh.

Paul cleared his throat. “That’s none of your concern. I’ve half a mind to report you for speaking with the prisoners.”

“You were listening, too,” Ket pointed out.

“Yes, because you made it clear you didn’t want us interrupting them,” Paul replied. His voice quivered at the end.

“What do you think, eh, Paul, about this whole Conclave business? Eh, friend?” Ket’s smile became sinister, and the physical magic rippled through him.

In response, sudden magic whipped from Paul, striking out at the remaining three guards. One of them collapsed with wounds springing all over his body, as if cut by invisible blades. Ket and Izek resisted the blows with their own magic, though blood trickled down from their arms and cheeks. Both men lunged at Paul, and Alex desperately tried to reach the fallen man, her fingers just short of grasping something of him. She strained harder, asking the man to move a hand to her, stretch a hand, anything, if he was still conscious.

Also, Evelyn now felt a pretty good incentive to access her magic.

So far, she hadn’t wanted to risk aggravating the locals. Now seemed like a pretty good time to help. Calling upon the winds, faint as they were in this place, she helped shunt the body closer to Alex, so she could grasp the unconscious man and attempt to heal him.

Next was trying to help the fighters, but she didn’t have precise enough control to try and separate them, and she wasn’t entirely sure if that’d be smart, given what the attacker could do. Her pulse hammered faster as she concentrated on the fight, trying to follow the fight, on the alert to attempt to protect herself and Alex. Not that she thought wind powers would help against invisible slashes. The physical magic pair managed finally to overpower the slashy guard, clamping manacles upon his hands that seemed to have some kind of nullifying effect on his magic.

“If you’ve killed Burton,” Ket said with a sinister growl, baring his teeth, “damnation will be nothing compared to what I’ll do to you.”

Alex lifted her hands off the fallen guard, and sagged against her bars. “I can’t,” she said. “He’s dead.” The words grated out of her. She didn’t want to say them, to admit she didn’t have the power to save someone.

Ket let out a scream of anger and pummeled the attacker’s face, not stopping until Izek yanked him off and told him to go get some help.

“We’ve got a lot of talking to do,” Izek promised them. “And I’ll see to it myself we get you out of your cages and interviewed instead.”

Evelyn smiled, though felt cold at the thought that they might have just sent them to their deaths without even a chance to plea. Maybe they had a good reason for doing so, but right now, it worked against them completely. They hadn’t even found out a single thing about the Creeping Rot, other than the fact that people here knew what it was, and hated it as well.

If they hadn’t been allowed to speak… Janus would be dead along with them.  Everyone on the expedition would vanish, and they’d be chalked up as another group lost to the curse of Zamorka. It’d be so much easier if they just wiped the stupid country from the map. Because Evelyn had been here less than a day, and her wonder had already turned into a sullen hate.

“You did all you could, Alex. Don’t feel bad about yourself. You always try to help people,” Evelyn said in an attempt to comfort the stiff life witch. No response came, and Alex didn’t turn to face anyone. Evelyn groaned inwardly, but let Alex have her moment. Evelyn didn’t know what it was like to have the power to heal but still fail, but she supposed Alex certainly did.

I do know what it’s like to fail, though. Evelyn closed her eyes, until she heard more footsteps coming.

Chapter Eight – Janus

Sound traveled far in the small, domed room. Paintings on the ceiling resembled a starry night, full of color and wonder. Seats spread in a circle in the middle of the room, and most of them carried occupants. Janus didn’t like going into this situation blind, but everyone who’d been imprisoned needed  to be interviewed alone.

Evelyn and the rest had already been. He’d caught rushed words from her about them almost being executed or something, and a hasty embrace, before they were separated, and then waited awkwardly outside the interview room for what felt like hours.

One of the interviewers happened to be the same man that had bumped into them earlier, with his cryptic message and leftover address. That helped make things a lot easier, at least.

“I must apologize to you for this undue situation,” the white-haired stranger said, striding towards him to shake hands. “I was just arguing your people’s case to the precinct. I daresay I might not have succeeded, had there not been an attack in the cells proving that what I said was correct.” He waved Janus towards a seat. “Sit, sit.”

“Your name?” Janus cautiously settled himself down and eyed the group of strangers. Eight of them in total, and all of them white-haired like the man, though of varying lengths and shades. All wore a soft, ceremonial-style robe, with gold embroidery around the edges. These Zamorkan types really liked their long robes. The Red Woman, a lot of the witches… it made them look pompous and impractical.

“Verran,” the stranger answered, with a small bow. “And I will be quick on the matter, since we’ve already gone through the same deal with everyone else. If you seek to stop the Creeping Rot, you’ll need to visit a mausoleum located in the wild magic area. You can’t completely stop it, because no one knows where it originates, but there is a powerful cure in there that is capable of healing even rock.”

Narrowing his eyes, Janus clasped his hands together. “Sounds easy enough for even you to get.”

A nervous giggle followed his statement, out of place from the otherwise wise-looking Verran. “In theory, it shouldn’t be that difficult. But right now, the Conclave have complete control of the area. And those who are… taken by the wild magic tend to join the Conclave. So it’s been somewhat of an embarrassing issue on our behalf.”

“I’d say,” Janus said, smelling a proposition on the wind. They needed the foreigners for something that the natives couldn’t do. No wonder this guy had been so keen to address them. “So you want us to do something about it? Go into the extremely dangerous area by ourselves and see if we can do what they can’t?”

“Not quite like that, no,” Verran said with a wry smile. “We’ll help prepare you a group to go with you. We have people all over Leavenport falling ill as well. We’re, to put it bluntly, desperate to find the cure. And the Red Woman’s Mausoleum has been the only place we’ve ever known to have the cure. You can’t grow it anywhere else, and if you strip the entire crop, well, it’ll never grow again.”

“Interesting,” Janus said. “So… if we agree to go with this… I’d like to make a preposition back.”

The group of Zamorkans looked baffled, and Verran frowned. “What kind?”

“Trade,” Janus said. “I run a trading business, and we don’t have any trade lines to Zamorka. Everyone’s half convinced they’ll die of some horrible curse if they make it here. We can offer Jarithan spices and herbs, exotic animals, furs… and freshly grown hoverstones.”

Verran’s face split into a wide smile. “Well, if you do agree and survive your journey to the wild magic, then perhaps we can arrange something.”

“Oh, yes, that reminds me. Who was responsible for the storm we encountered? Our air witches couldn’t control the direction of our skyship.”

Several of the Zamorkans muttered, and Verran grimaced. “The wild magic can sometimes flare out tropical storms of that nature. We actually have storm calendars to track the surges. If you don’t know when a surge is coming, and get caught in a wildstorm… usually it ends in your death.”

Shifting in his seat, Janus tried not to betray more of his excitement. This was the answer! This was the riding mystery behind the shroud of Zamorka—and the strange storms that formed over the seas. If they gained access to calendar records… then he could open trade.

He’d be the first person to officially facilitate trade between the Six Isles and Zamorka. His mother and father would be bursting with fierce pride at such an achievement.

And he’d likely have a monopoly on the market for quite some time, since people wouldn’t shake off their prejudice of Zamorka that easily to begin their own trading attempts.

Great. Just required them walking into death for yet another dodgy magic session. He bit his lip, wondering if he could somehow leave Evelyn out of it.  She’d want to come. She’d likely be enraged if he just went up to her and told her to stay away, unless he came up with a good excuse, like they needed at least one air witch to remain safe to take all of them back across the sea.

“Do we have a deal, dragon-shifter?” Verran asked, cocking his head expectantly for an answer.

“We do.”

“Then we will assemble our team. It will take us at least two weeks.”

“Two weeks?” We might not be able to afford to wait!

“We want to time it so that you will enter the forest once a wildstorm has petered out. That way, the wild magic will be at its lowest ebb, and hopefully, all witches will be able to resist the call of… whatever it is in the magic that affects them. We will do this properly. I have no interest in losing more decent men and women than we already have.”

Janus gnashed his teeth, but couldn’t think of a way out of it. It’d be suicide to go alone. Which was what we were intending, anyway, when we first set out upon this trip. And the locals clearly had some sense of decorum and laws that might be violated if they made any hasty moves.

The best course of action really did seem to be to stay put.

At least I’ll have more time to persuade Evelyn to stay away, I suppose. And figure out just what exactly is going on between me and her.

It was something.

* * *

“Who do you think you are?” Evelyn posed the question to him, during another one of their city walks. Playing the waiting game grated on all of their nerves, and the locals didn’t want them stepping onto the Elegant, just in case any of them reneged on their plans and flew away. Others treated them with marked hostility, perhaps not fully believing they had nothing to do with the recent spout of murders—but others still enthusiastically showed their goods and many-hued robes. “When you’re not being presented to the court, and living up to your family’s expectations?”

He gave a small shrug. “Exactly what you see. A person who can shift into a dragon, wearing a nice suit, attempting something called a date. Handsome, I hope, too.”

A short sigh of irritation greeted his words. “I’m trying something serious. A little more than surface level talk, if you know what I mean. Let’s sit here...” She pointed at a small park bench, one of many, where other people sat feeding ducks which had waddled out of the park lake, hopeful for food. Janus and Evelyn took up the entire bench, and Janus felt a kind of unease building up in him, though he couldn’t quite put it into words.

“Do we have to talk about this now? I’d rather enjoy our time exploring.”

She gave him a rather peculiar look. “Why must you assume that doing some talking won’t be enjoyable?”

“It’s…” He paused. “It’s just… I’m a man. I don’t do what you women do. Sit around and talk feelings. There’s better things for us to do.”

“I’m sure,” she said, with a bite of annoyance in her voice now. “You do realize, though, that you do have feelings, right? That being a man doesn’t suddenly exempt you from them?”

I don’t want to anger her further, he thought, but he also felt that shifty impatience inside, that impulse to try and change the topic. “Of course not.” He paused again, unsure what she wanted. “It’s not really expected.”

“How do you think a relationship between a man and a woman goes?” She folded her arms, lips pursed in a calculating manner. Her wild, dark hair got a lot of attention from the Zamorkans walking past, since all of them had far lighter shades and less chaotic strands. “That it’s all about buying gifts, having sex, and popping out babies? You know they also talk about feelings, too?”

“What? Where’s this coming from?”

“You. I’ve been thinking about it a lot since… when we did what we did.”

“The sex?”

“Yes, that,” she said, smirking in spite of herself when one passing couple appeared positively mortified at the word being said aloud. “You have quite the reputation with traders in the skies. They see you as someone to be reckoned with. Your family is seen as strict misers who hoard gold and squeeze it out of every unfortunate soul to come their way. You were raised up in a kind of environment where if you didn’t work hard, you didn’t get fed. So you learned that emotions got in the way, I think. If you spent too much time being angry or upset or sad, that also meant a rumbling stomach. So I suppose you learned from there that your emotions would do nothing but get in the way.”

He didn’t respond at first. He merely stared at her, both in partial annoyance and exasperation with the emotion talk. However, a small part of him wanted her to continue, to hear what else she had to say. Just how she assessed him.

And see if it made sense. “You get all that from what I said about working hard?”

“Mm, no. You came from another family before the Ruthes took you in. A family that had very different values from the Ruthes, right?”

The silence this time was even longer. The background noise faded into nothing for Janus, as he considered the words, and the blot of emotions within that wanted him to both change the subject and get her to keep talking. “Yes. They… did. Not that I remember too much about it...”

Just that I was very sad to lose them. That they wanted me to stay away from them when they were infected. That they… He closed his eyes. “I don’t think I want to talk about this, Evelyn.”

“Could you try? For me?”

“Why?”

“I want to know you,” she said simply. “I don’t want Janus Ruthe, member of a family people fear or hate, or Janus Ruthe, the person I’ve had some conversation with, and shared a bet with. I want… the person that’s hidden inside all of that. If this ever becomes something more. Will it be something more?”

He saw the way she sat nervously, chewing her bottom lip, and realized, in a rush of understanding so powerful that it left him a little dizzy, that it was a big risk for her as well, to pry into this. How easy would it be for someone like him just to dismiss this? To tell her to shut up, that she was making him feel bad?

No. He had to do better than that. “You can know me if I can know you,” he replied, though the words seemed oddly difficult to convey. “I don’t see it as fair if you’re going to be asking all about me, but I don’t get to hear about you.”

Besides, he wasn’t entirely sure if the Ruthe family was a great judge of romantic relationships. They had a marriage of convenience that worked out, but they didn’t necessarily… ooze affection from their pores. That might be an issue when it came down to things.

“That’s fair,” she said. “It probably wouldn’t work if only one of us was answering questions the whole time.”

“Okay. Let’s start this easy. I don’t know who I am.” He shrugged at her small twinge of disappointment. “If I did, I’d tell you. I know I only vaguely remember my first parents, but I miss them. My second set, the Ruthes… I... I’m pissed they went. Pissed I have to take over everything before I’m completely ready, and pissed off that I can’t find a cure for the Creeping Rot. It took all of them, and I’m here repeating the same life.”

Evelyn nodded, eyes soft in understanding. “At least until you ended up on a skyship to Zamorka.” She grasped his hand, and he squeezed it briefly. “Guess there is a heart underneath all that ice after all.”

“It’s a lot of ice,” he said defensively. “You haven’t lost anyone yourself, have you?”

“Some of my classmates to the Creeping Rot. But nothing as extreme as yours. My family’s about as non-magical as you can be, so they won’t be first targeted by the disease.”

“It might spread to them.”

“Maybe.” She glanced around the park, to the green and gray ducks, and the plainer females waddling around the other benches for food. Briefly, Janus considered how the male birds were always more colorful than their female counterparts. For humans, they went the opposite in some ways. Females were more colorful, more vibrant. Males showed off their value in other ways, such as muscles, confidence, wealth. “You ever feel like you’re expected to be one thing, but sometimes you look at yourself and realize you don’t fit into that expectation at all?”

Still holding hands, he felt the heat rise to an uncomfortable point, and let go.  It was like that. Despite his age, he felt like a boy playing dress-up with his more skilled parents’ job. So far he’d been doing a great job, but that was also because they’d already set things up for him to succeed. He didn’t need to make new connections because they long since introduced him to all of theirs. The main conflict came from what he did now. Risking everything for a long-distance trip, leaving a trusted servant in charge of operations back home. He was childless, had no woman, had no real contingency plan if something went wrong here.

Yet, a part of him did want something to go wrong. A horrible, irrational part that just wanted him to shred the Ruthe finances and disappear into the winds. He kept that part under control enough to do this.

And then Evelyn started teasing into his thoughts, until he now sat here wondering how he’d allowed one single woman to gain so much influence over him. Sky curse it—he’d made that deal, he followed her with his eyes when she came in close proximity… he tried to answer her questions. Even with the rude way she spoke to him at the start of their trip, it hadn’t been enough to completely push her out of his mind.

Screw it. He leaned forward, just as she was about to say something, and cut off her words with a long, lingering kiss. She stiffened under his touch, before relaxing into it and kissing back, hands threading in his hair.

“You lose,” she whispered against his lips.

“I wanted to,” he whispered back.

Besides, clinging to her like this was a good way of ensuring that some of the swirling emotion inside him came to a rest. Emotions—he didn’t deal well with them. Didn’t have the first clue about what those stabs in his stomach and chest and brain meant, really. But this helped with them.

It helped a lot.

Chapter Nine – Evelyn

All they needed to do was go into some creepy tomb. Easy. Except, apparently it involved a Zamorkan team of about twenty people, and all the magic users from their skyship were encouraged to come as well. The ordinary crew members and scholars were to stay put and continue experiencing the sprawling culture of Leavenport, all of them followed by bodyguards to make sure that there were no more attempts to frame them, or get them killed.

Wonderful. Evelyn now waded in deep jungle with Rukia and Janus on either side of her. They’d traveled some of the way in a series of small hover boats, but now they needed to walk the rest of the way.

“Why is this tomb even in the wild magic area anyway?” Evelyn said, feeling a horrible, clammy sensation steal over her body, as if the magic in the atmosphere was cloying on her skin. They left about an hour before the last wildstorm ended. If this was what the wild magic felt like at low power, Evelyn shuddered to think what kind of pressure it exerted at full.

None of the Zamorkans answered. Perhaps they didn’t have an answer. They just pushed through dark green foliage, tapered bark and vines and thick, leafy bushes. To their right towered mangroves, with their roots slick in swamp water. The air had a stifling quality to it, which made Evelyn keep sucking in deep breaths, trying to grab air that didn’t feel saturated with magic, and failing. She could even taste it upon her tongue. Rukia had absently started scratching at her bare arms, and Janus’ expression appeared pained.

“I like flying in skyships for a reason,” Rukia said, glaring at an offending vine dangling above them like a noose. “I dislike walking around. I also dislike walking around in areas that might just get us killed.”

“Yes,” Evelyn said. “That’s exactly why we choose to steer skyships. So we don’t have to do all of that pesky walking.”

“Exactly.” Rukia’s attention shifted to Alex, who was ahead of the group. A side profile caught a stony expression. “She’s been a bundle of joy the past two weeks. Even with her boyfriend there to cheer things up.”

“She’s taking it hard that she failed to save someone,” Evelyn said, reaching to tie back her slick hair yet again, because some of it was teasing loose and sticking to her head. “It’s not her fault, and she grabbed the guy as fast as possible. He was just dead before he hit the ground, I think. But she’s kicking herself for it.”

“That’s pointless,” Janus said, lacking sympathy. “She has no reason to blame herself.”

“I don’t think ‘reason’ has anything to do with it,” Evelyn replied wryly. “Sometimes, people just want to punish themselves. And she’s doing it pretty bad.”

Evelyn’s boots slid through a wet mud patch, causing blobs of dark brown to splotch over her pants. She grimaced, seeing others lose their balance and one unfortunate witch go flat on their face, which prompted some laughter.

“Wonder if people back home will believe us when we tell them what happened here?” Rukia grinned. She was far more dainty compared to the other trekkers, paying attention to the ground. For a person who claimed to hate walking, she did seem very assured of her own movements, like she was a master tracker or something. It made Evelyn wonder about her background.

With a smirk, Janus said, “I’m sure they would. We nearly crashed our ship and entered Leavenport, and then after some of the witches tried to frame us for someone’s death, other witches demanded our help in entering a mausoleum in the middle of a cursed forest. Turns out only parts of Zamorka are cursed. That’ll reassure the home crowd.”

“Better than the whole place being cursed, though, isn’t it?” Rukia helped Evelyn before she ended up falling flat. “Still, I wish we were allowed to use our magic now...”

“Only when it’s necessary,” Evelyn echoed the expedition leader’s words with a sigh. “Because sometimes the wild magic goes crazy if someone starts using powers in it. You’d think they just needed to send ordinary people if we weren’t allowed to use powers.”

“They wanted Meridas and me, though,” Janus said. “Presumably being a dragon helps.”

“You’d think so, right? Someone pissing you off… just turn into a dragon and breathe fire at them. You do breathe fire?” Rukia asked.

“No. Why would I breathe fire?” Janus drew closer to Evelyn and laced his hand in hers, sending a thrill through her body. She imagined for a moment his passionate kiss on the bench over a week ago, and the other kisses they’d shared since then. She was glad he lost the bet, because she’d been entertaining the idea more and more of just kissing him herself, finding the terms of the bet less binding than before.

It was all in the head, anyway. An excuse to be closer to one another. A way to acknowledge one another.

Her mother would probably have a heart attack if she brought back Janus Ruthe to the home. Her father would be absolutely desperate to make some trade deal or get a discount on something. The rest of her family would flock like vultures, trying to grab the best scraps of meat due to her choice of partner.

Were they partners, now? Evelyn regarded Janus with a critical eye. They hadn’t said anything out loud to indicate that. Just a slow dance until they pulled in tight to one another, and never quite let go.

“We should be getting close to the Mausoleum now,” their leader called. “But watch out for people from the Conclave. They may have a camp nearby.”

That was another nice way of admitting they might be ambushed. Evelyn didn’t like the notion of enemies lurking in the overgrowth, waiting for their time to strike. She felt vulnerable, even behind all these people with Janus clutching her hand, because of the nature of the strange magic in the air. The magic itself felt like an infection waiting to happen, forcing itself down her throat with every attempt at breathing.

They’d sent people to this Mausoleum before. And all of them failed. What would make their group any different? Because they weren’t Zamorkans? Because they had a life witch? Because they had dragons?

Either way, they seemed to think their chances increased with strangers in their lands.

“I can’t shrug off the feeling we’re being watched,” Rukia whispered, huddling closer to them. “Which is highly rude of those people if they want to watch but not say hello.”

“I think I’m fine with them just watching,” Evelyn remarked.

“I’m fine with them not being there at all,” Janus said. Evelyn noted that the whole group was becoming increasingly nervous, perhaps feeling that same sensation of being observed.

The magic in the atmosphere grew thicker, enervating the magic coating the wild forest. Things started blurring at the edge of Evelyn’s vision, like people just out of sight, but when she turned sharply, the blurs vanished. A quiet chittering entered her ears, like people whispering, or the wind rustling through leaves.

“Can you hear… people talking?” Rukia examined the people ahead and behind her, trying to see if they were the causes of the sounds.

“I can,” Janus said, jaw set tightly. “But nobody here is responsible for it.”

Evelyn couldn’t make out any words, but the hairs on the back of her neck stood on end. “Anyone feel like they’re in the middle of a cursed forest?”

A general consensus of “Yes” came back.

Ahead of them, the sludgy, dense trees and vines gave way to lean-to shelters,  and signs of people living in the area. Huts made out of thin branches tied together with twine. Cooking utensils, a stone pit for a fire. Maybe around forty or so buildings in total. All of them empty.

Abandoned? Or had the people here been expecting them?

Cautiously, the group prowled through the area. They needed to, because their destination was in the middle of the primitive settlement. A small structure made out of completely white stone, with a set of double doors that had a black circle with patterns inside it overlapping the stone. The arch above the doors had something written in a language Evelyn didn’t know.

The group advanced to the Mausoleum. Evelyn had expected something huge, something that might tower like the buildings in Leavenport, if this was meant to be the grave of the Red Woman.

She didn’t expect this little stone house, no bigger than a shed.

“Where are the people?” Rukia wondered. “This is the Conclave encampment, right? Surely there must be someone in one of those huts...”

There wasn’t. They’d checked every section of the camp to make sure of it. Janus still hadn’t let go of Evelyn’s hand, and he didn’t seem inclined to, either. “Stay close,” he whispered. “Something’s not right about this...”

“You’re telling me? It’s obvious something isn’t right, Janus. I feel like we’ve walked into a trap. That we’re not prepared at all.”

He leaned his head against hers, and let out a sigh. “I feel like we’ve been going in blind since the start, so...”

True, she thought, poised to access her magic at a moment’s notice. She didn’t mind the blindness too much. She did mind the idea of being cursed, of succumbing to something they couldn’t see, and only felt. She wanted to blame Janus and Meridas if something went wrong, because they were the ones who stole her from her old job.

Yet at the same time, her old job had nothing on this. And a part of her liked the danger. It resulted in a mixed bag of emotions.

Outside the Mausoleum, the leader of the Zamorkans touched his hand to the black painting, in the center where there was a space about as big as a head. The doors creaked open without any real force pushed against them, revealing a gloomy passageway—stairs that led down into a mysterious underground. Like the depths of the Underland.

“Oh, skies, no,” Evelyn hissed. “We’re not going into a crypt.”

“Mausoleum,” Rukia said.

“What’s even the difference between a crypt and a mausoleum, anyway?” Evelyn snapped at her, and she shrugged in response.

“I don’t know, but we’re going in it.”

Just great. Cursed forest, creepy underground place that didn’t have any light, while moving through a camp of what probably was the enemy, except they were currently missing in action. Maybe they had moved somewhere else while the wildstorm raged. Maybe they had died. Or maybe…

“Wait. Wait. What if they’re inside?” Evelyn snapped at the leader. “The people who are supposed to be a part of this camp?”

That possibility swam through the others, suddenly making them nervous.

“Last resort, be prepared to use your magic,” the gray-robed leader said. Evelyn hadn’t bothered to learn their names, neither did she want to. Just twenty nameless Zamorkans. Rukia tensed at her side, and Janus’ lips curled back in a partial snarl. Ready to go. If there was even the slightest chance they could come back out with a cure for the Creeping Rot…

Then Evelyn doubted that Janus would let go of the opportunity. She wondered if a part of him intended to sell the cure, monopolize it, somehow, or whether he genuinely wanted to help people. She believed he did… but there was always that nagging thought at the back of her head that questioned otherwise.

They left four sentries waiting outside the Mausoleum, and everyone else poured into the underground resting place of the Red Woman. Footsteps echoed in the claustrophobic space as they all shuffled down. One of the witches in their company used their light witch gifts to illuminate the way for the others, as it was pitch black within. The stairs led to a huge underground room, big enough even for Meridas and Janus to transform into dragons. The light witch floated her lights all around the room, until they were left with a perfect view of white, solemn walls with murals carved into them, usually in spiraling shapes, and etched images of people sitting or standing.

Nobody else other than them seemed to fill up the space. So the people who lived in the camp probably didn’t make it down here, unless they found another place to hide. Something stirred in Evelyn’s soul, something akin to terror. The cloying magic felt stronger here, like it wanted to push into her, and whisper more words…

The group spread out, leaving mud trackings near the bottom of the stairs, though the main interest was in the tomb that rested at the end of the room, with a carved white statue bowed over the tomb as if in prayer. There didn’t seem to be any more hidden places, just a massive chamber, and a resting place. Still, Evelyn couldn’t help but feel like she was trapped here, somehow. She wanted to get out before something bad happened. She also didn’t see anything that resembled a cure in this place, and the paranoia grew.

Eventually they flocked around the tomb, noting that the figure bowed over the tomb clasped a stone basin, and within that stone basin was a cupful of murky water.

A loud, terrifying thump echoed through the chamber—doors slamming shut. The sound of footsteps running down the staircase receded into silence. No one emerged from the stairs.

“Hello?” Meridas called, walking away from the group towards the source of the former noise. “Is everything okay?”

No response. Nothing but silence, and the increasing unease within the group.

“They were running to us. Why did it fall silent?” Meridas reached the stairs and disappeared up them. He came back into sight a moment later. “The door upstairs is shut. I think we’ve been locked in.”

The group leader cursed softly. “No matter. We’ll use our magic to force our way out if necessary.”

“Seems the enemy were waiting for us, after all,” Evelyn said. “But we didn’t spot them at all. How?”

“Those taken by the wild magic have access to all sorts of powers,” came the quiet reply. “Rarely any of them are safe. Let’s focus on the tomb for now. Who can see the water?”

Evelyn glanced at the man. Blond, light-blue-eyed, who sweated profusely to the point where it drenched his collar. “What do you mean, who can see it?”

“Not everyone will be able to.” He tapped the basin with one finger. “In here,  if anyone can see water, they are meant to cast it upon the tomb.” He now traced the pockmarks within the white tomb.

“But… why would we even need to do this?”

“You think we know? It’s how it’s always been. Should we make it here without incident, the waters will appear only to someone of magic, and only if they are considered to have the right mindset, according to the Red Woman, who watches over the tomb.”

“I see her,” Alex said, looking to the side. Evelyn whirled to look as well, but saw nothing.

“Me, too,” Rukia said, puzzled.

Only Evelyn, Janus, and Meridas couldn’t.

“You three don’t have Zamorkan blood,” the group leader said. “That’s who can see her. Now… who is able to look upon water?”

A moment’s pause. “Me,” Evelyn said. “I see water.”

“Me as well,” Alex admitted. So could Meridas and one of the Zamorkans. Not Rukia or Janus, however.

“So what do we do with the magical water?” Evelyn asked. She was gestured over to the basin, and instructed to pour the water over the tomb. When she did so, to her astonishment, flowers bloomed out of the little holes, flowers with bright, glowing purple petals, about a dozen of them in total. Creation magic? She’d only read about that back in the academy. And all of it was speculation, that yes, there probably were creation witches, but such powers might get them hung, due to their gifts touching directly upon some sworn religious systems that acknowledged all creation to belong to the gods. Jarithas was one such nation that believed in a pantheon of gods, and took great offense to creation witches.

Except… no one here was responsible for making this. Once she plucked the flowers, under the encouragement of the Zamorkan leader, the others who saw water did the same thing in turn—tipping the basin, which now seemed empty to Evelyn’s eyes, then plucking at something invisible, which appeared as the purple flower in their hand once removed from the tomb.

“This is so weird,” Rukia said, bending close to the tomb to try and watch it clearer, although she obviously saw nothing until the final stage each time. “I have no idea how it works. It’s hurting my head even thinking about it.”

“We’ll have another challenge before long,” the group leader warned them, his face set in a grim line. “The people who locked us in will want the flowers. To stop us being able to heal.”

“We should have waited near the entrance,” Janus growled, wrapping a protective arm around Evelyn, which she much appreciated. “Or responded instantly.”

“No point,” the leader replied. “They’re prepared for us to come here. They’ll either expect to starve us out, or kill us the moment we step through. We’ll be easier to take out coming up the stairs than we will in the open.”

Which left them with flowers. Magical flowers, apparently the cure to a disease that haunted nations and brought them low. Tiny, cursing flowers.

Something whispered in Evelyn’s ear, stronger, more insistent, and she saw several of the Zamorkans’ faces glaze over. Magic welled up in them, and when the three women examined the flowers in Evelyn’s hands, an ugly sneer crossed their lips. A mad gleam lit up their eyes.

“We’ll be taking that,” one white-haired woman declared, raising her hand, a sword forming in it.

Chaos ensued. The group exploded into shouts, and Evelyn delved into her magic at the same time as Rukia, both of them launching into the air and away from the fight. The moment Evelyn activated her magic, the whispering grew stronger, maddening, and she hunched over, gasping. The atmosphere drowned in the stench of wild magic, and now shapes and illusions appeared in the group of fourteen people, like the shadows of people with wide, insane smiles, expressions contorted with bloodlust. Meridas sprang to protect Alex, and Evelyn focused on trying to deflect any projectiles she saw.

“What the skies is going on?” Rukia yelled at Evelyn, but Evelyn had no rational answer for her. Possession, maybe? Did seem like possession from where she floated… plus…

Stop them, a voice whispered in her mind. They’ll take the magic for themselves. Leave your body rotting in the forest.

Her gaze shifted to Rukia.

Screams and calls for calm were lost in the confusion—people not knowing, not understanding, why their allies were suddenly attacking them.

You won’t be able to save your family. You’ll go back and they’ll all be dead. She’ll do it. She’ll do it!

Evelyn raised her hands and sent a jet of air into Rukia. The woman tumbled sideways, before righting herself, and to Evelyn’s eyes, Rukia shifted from a surprised, scared woman to a demon with glowing red eyes, and a voice distorted by dark magic.

“Evelyn...” Two different statements came out of the demon’s mouth. What are you doing? Mixed with, I’ll kill you. You deserve to die.

Shrieking, Evelyn darted at the demon and grasped the demon’s neck with her hands. “Oh no, you won’t! I’ll stop you!”

A faint whisper, that sounded like please, stop, flooded with a hysterical cackle, yelling more promises of death, describing how they planned to kill her. Wind whipped into Evelyn’s face, tearing her away from the demon. No—she had to stop it.

Had to—

“Listen to me!” the demon screamed the words, and its face morphed back into Rukia’s again, with her light brown, reddish hair, her frightened blue eyes, rubbing her throat. “Evelyn, I’m not your enemy!”

The demon began covering the air witch’s face again.

Violently shaking her head, Evelyn squeezed her eyes shut, horror raking through her. She wanted to both launch herself at Rukia and scream at the fact that something was urging her to forget everyone around her.

When she opened her eyes again, Rukia appeared normal. “It takes over our minds,” Evelyn gasped as Rukia drifted cautiously nearer, avoiding one magical projectile flung her way. “It made me think you were—you wanted to kill me.”

“I can see that...” Rukia yanked Evelyn away from the fight, watching it intently, her body tense. Evelyn ignored the whispers as best as able, trying to pick out the sides. Meridas and Janus served to make matters worse when they shifted into their dragon forms, white and sinuous as they thrashed around. The Zamorkans were at each other’s throats. As for Alex… she clung to a fallen person, trying to heal them. Evelyn directed her winds to pick up Alex and her target and bring them close. The four of them together drifted away from the rampaging dragons, and Alex continued to try and pump her magic into the group leader.

“Why does it not affect you two?” Evelyn asked. “For a moment, I saw nothing but enemies. I still hear something urging me to attack.”

“I hear something, too,” Rukia said, eyes constantly shifting to the battle. “I just figured it’d be that wild magic they keep warning us about, so I ignored it.”

“Same,” Alex said, and Evelyn glowered at them.

“You just… ignored it. Of course you did.” Her eyes sought out Janus, who swept one of the maddened witches aside with his long tail. Meridas bit down into someone until they went still.

“Do you think the dragons will turn on us?” Rukia asked.

“I don’t know.”

They watched, trying to pluck people from the fight one by one. Alex’s magic succeeded in healing the group leader, but when he opened his eyes, his teeth were bared in a vicious grimace. He thrashed at Alex, and her expression went dark. Rukia dropped the man’s body, and he attempted to leap up at them, falling just short.

“I was so close to using my magic to kill him,” Alex whispered, licking her lips, now appearing more anxious than before. Evelyn said nothing, only expending her magic to one person at a time, focusing on the ones who didn’t have magic. She pinned them against the walls, about three struggling witches. The last of the fighters died as the dragons finished them off. Leaving five dead.

The ones pinned against the walls continued to writhe and scream that they were dangerous, that they needed to be put down, and Meridas and Janus reverted to their normal forms.

“We need to get out of here,” Janus said, panting. “We’ll fly out. Screw it. If we’ve got the cure...”

“I don’t understand what in the Six Isles just happened,” Meridas said, breathing hard and fast. “They… everyone just started attacking. One got me in the arm, see?” He held up a bloodied shoulder.

Evelyn hastily explained about the possession magic, before bringing their four captives together, suspended in mid-air. “They’re taken by it. I think they can be… untaken.”

“I’ll kill you before you kill me!” the group leader said. He thrashed like a puppet, not doing much with his physical magic. Alex let out an annoyed growl, and attempted to swim through the air towards him.

“Let me try. Maybe I can cure it.”

Cautiously, Evelyn nudged her along, watching her approach the man from behind, who seemed oblivious to her advance. When she grabbed him, the man shook violently for a moment, before his eyes cleared.

“Looks like I can stop it.” She folded her arms, though appeared greatly agitated. “But if any one of those other three take a swipe at me, I swear I’m making them lose a body part or two.”

Chapter Ten – Janus

No one was waiting for them when they left the tomb. Unless you counted the wildstorm that wasn’t scheduled to appear. They’d already taken the flowers off the dead Zamorkan who was able to grow them, and left their dead in the Mausoleum, unable to properly assess their situation. The storm outside, though, gave them a nice, clear expectation of things.

They didn’t waste breath yelling about how impossible this was. They just wanted to get out before the wild magic messed with them further. Checking again that Evelyn was all right, Janus then shifted into dragon form, intending to fly in the storm. Meridas did the same, and everyone scrambled onto their backs, struggling to do so with the powerful winds clawing at them, until Rukia and Evelyn extended their magical influence to give them a bubble of calm.

People emerged from the treelines beyond the makeshift settlement. Janus’ serpentine eyes picked out the murderous intent in their faces. Some vaguely familiar ones were there as well—members of their former twenty-strong expedition. The four who were left to guard. Taken by the magic? Evelyn spoke about whispers, but Janus heard nothing but the thoughts in his own head. Whatever accursed magic influenced this place, it didn’t have much of an effect on dragons.

He could hope, anyway. The fear in his stomach mixed with the savage pride he felt in Evelyn. She didn’t choose to ride on either dragon, and instead floated into the air, Rukia behind her, and diverted the storms for them. Her dark hair was calm and settled compared to the tempest outside the protective wind cocoon around them, and they launched off into the air. The fact that the enemy Zamorkans just watched him go caused some concern in him, as he felt they should have resisted harder, done everything in their power to stop them lifting off and flying for safety. Maybe they thought the storm would take care of them.

Rukia seemed to be the one pushing herself and Evelyn forward, and the curly-haired air witch handled the pressure bubble.

Even with her efforts at protection, the wind still howled through, and rain slashed them, giving Janus an idea of just how deadly this storm was. They flew through darkness and rain and smashed into branches in their ascent above the canopy, not caring anymore about being cautious. They were spotted. The storm was upon them. Nothing mattered now but speed. His wings beat furiously, clawing at the air currents given to him, but it was an uphill struggle against unnatural elements, and he remembered, quite candidly, that they lost the last battle which involved a wildstorm.

But now they actually had the cure in their hands. They couldn’t afford to lose it. People were willing to die for it. And people did.

Above the trees, the storm worsened in strength without windbreaks. Meridas struggled to keep moving, and their protective bubble weakened under the onslaught. Any words shouted were lost. No one could be heard in the relentless splutter of rain and wind.

Barely anyone could be seen, either. A huge wing buffeted him—Meridas had trailed into his pathway. One of the remaining light witches riding Janus illuminated the area around them, just in time to see Meridas change into human form, and the people relying on him to save them tearing off in the wind. Rukia shouted something, grabbing the four people from ripping off into the storm—including Alex, who held onto Meridas’ arm, once they were dragged forward.

I… I can’t keep this up… we need to go back under. The trees provide good cover, but up here, we’re sitting targets. Trusting Evelyn and Rukia to pick up the goods, he shifted back as well. A scream tore out of his throat as he was tossed around like a toy, before being hooked by something invisible that pushed him into Meridas and Alex. Meridas was unconscious, with a large welt on his head. Something must have flown into him.

“Down!” Janus tried to shriek, but of course, the words were ripped from his throat. Evelyn, however, had reached the conclusion first. Their original aim to push free and head straight to Leavenport couldn’t work in this storm. The dragons couldn’t out-fly the tempest. Evelyn lowered them below the canopy, and the howling wind lessened instantly. Still strong, still deadly, but he felt less like the storm was trying to tear him limb from limb.

Less like dying. Even if he did dangle in the air, with nothing but the two air witches protecting them from the worst of the impact. Soon their group made a strange procession. The air witches in the middle of it, the four physical witches in front, forming a flesh barrier with their magic, since they were more resilient to damage. The unconscious Meridas under care of Alex, with her hair whipping around her face as she rested her cheek against his chest, listening for where he needed healing. The air witches steered them through the trees.

Skies, Janus thought, both panicked and amused. If we get out of this, we’ll have quite the tale to tell. Wonder who would believe us? That we survived a wildstorm in this manner?

Tree branches slammed into the physical witches, who held up to their duties. Janus scanned below, trying not to feel disoriented at the fact that his feet were dangling over nothing, and he saw how the vines and leaves swayed in the wind, but more or less stayed rooted. The light orbs around him didn’t extend his sight as far as he wanted—the ground remained shrouded in darkness. Anyone living in the forest probably knew to move deeper into it when a storm hit. Deeper into the wild magic. He felt the charged nature of the air around them, and remembered the dancing, grinning illusions in the fight within the Mausoleum. The wild magic, stirred up by the fight, urging them to kill.

A force he hoped never to encounter again. One pebble slammed into his shoulder, leaving a blaze of pain, and he gritted his teeth to stop from crying out, though he rotated several times from the impact before settling into a dangling position facing Evelyn. The wind that broke through ruffled her mane in a glorious way, and for a moment, she looked like she might have been born of the storm itself. Her eyes were squinted almost shut, like most of theirs, since the wind made them water, and Janus could only imagine the kind of power Evelyn and Rukia battled against, how much they mitigated against the storm.

They drifted lower and lower through the forest, until the light orbs finally skimmed the bottom of the forest. They searched desperately until, at last, they found a small rocky overhang, just about big enough for them to all huddle up with their backs to the rock. They settled here, tucking their feet in so they didn’t get soaked further, huddling into a shivering bundle of people, waiting for the storm to abate.

They would have been more sheltered in the Mausoleum, but they also didn’t want to be trapped in there with a known enemy outside, with the bodies of people they knew, and a chance for people to be taken by the wild magic again.

Unfortunately, the storm was too strong for the air witches, despite their best efforts, and too strong for the dragons. Janus’ aching wings had transferred instead into cramping, bruised shoulders. No one could conjure up heat, but the air witches were able to create the bubble around their little overhang to leave them in a more serene setting than before, even if they heard the wind beyond moaning as it cut between trees and rocks. They could also now have shouting conversations with one another and be heard.

“Do you think those people who were outside might have conjured the storm themselves?” Rukia yelled at Marthen, their blond guide for the trip, who had also succumbed somewhat to the lunacy the others endured.

“It could be possible. We do get localized storms in the center of the wild lands. You’ll probably find once we leave the forest, there won’t be a storm at all.”

“Our own special storm,” Evelyn said with a thin smile. “Just what we’ve always wanted.” Alex and Meridas cuddled together, and it prompted Janus to want to do the same with Evelyn. He edged up to her, shivering slightly, and placed his arms around her body. She relaxed into his touch with a soft sigh. “I think we overestimated our abilities with the storm.”

“I think you did amazing,” he said in her ear. She rested her head against his chest. Rukia now sent wind into them in an attempt to dry them off, and they were all significantly less dripping after some moments of this, leaving them to wait out the worst of the storm in their reduced group, and a solemn, less-than-satisfied mood wedged between them. They listened as well for the whispers of madness to start in their ears. Janus heard nothing, but the other humans were less lucky in that area.

Absently, Janus looked over to Alex and Meridas, where they stared at their purple flowers. Such unassuming little things, to cure such a tremendous illness. Even then, he didn’t quite understand what they were supposed to do when it came to the healing of an island core. Just… press the flower against the rock, or something? Or did they need to make a concoction out of it, for them to be able to heal with it?

This was the difference in saving his parents’ lives?

“Once we make it back to our island and tell them we found the magic flowers that will save everyone, I can’t wait to hear some of the reactions that will come.”

Janus chuckled at those words. He didn’t voice the concern that maybe these small flowers weren’t actually a cure at all, and smiled with her instead, wanting to enjoy the idea that once they made it back home, all their worries would be over.

Or at least, these worries.

“I’d like to travel with you,” he said to her, taking the time to run his hands through her damp curls. “Take some breaks from the business, and just… see more of the world from up high. I’d like to take you on my back and we could go and visit some of those distant islands in the skies.”

Who would begrudge them some dreams of the future?

“I can see myself doing that. Air witch riding a dragon… sounds excellent.” She grinned. “Though I miss the basic trades we used to do. I could still do that if I ended up working for you?”

“Honestly,” he said, “I’d prefer you not working for me, and just living with me instead. But I also know that… it’d be stupid to lock up an air witch when she happens to be one of the best long-distance travelers in the Six Isles.”

“That’s right. No locking me up,” she said, lightly punching his already sore shoulder. He winced at that. His shoulders still needed time to recover, and he wasn’t about to ask Alex to heal them, because the pain seemed so minor compared to what might happen in their attempts to shelter.

He peered up into the darkness, thoughts tumbling, but none of them leaving the slightest hint of meaning behind.

“This place really is as cursed as they say,” Evelyn said. “It’s awful.”

All Janus did was hug her tighter in return. As if he alone could protect her against anything that flew into their pathetic shelter. He noticed then how exhausted both Evelyn and Rukia appeared to look. With the time they’d spent bracing against the storm, no wonder. So he did the only thing he could think of.

He took himself out of contact with Evelyn, ignoring her protests, and morphed into a dragon in front of them. Then, he settled himself down, using his wings as a barrier along with his body against the storm—both for himself and for them. Sheltering the people huddled up in a less-than-adequate overhang, but better than being fully exposed to the elements. His feathers and internal heat helped prevent the worst of the cold.

The air witches let go of their magic. And he made sure not to let go of them.

Chapter Eleven – Evelyn

It was a bedraggled group of people that made it back into Leavenport. The place itself seemed to have suffered no impact from the storm, and they soon found out that the storm had affected nothing but the forest it came from. Which confirmed their suspicion that it’d been aimed at them, somehow.

Discussion about the purpose of the wildstorm varied from whether it was there so they’d think about staying in the Mausoleum until it was over, to it destroying them because it was so powerful. People thanked Evelyn and Rukia, but she didn’t feel like she did as much as they heaped credit on her for. Fighting the storm made her realize just how weak she was, how kittenish her strength compared to something as primal and magically charged as what hit them.

And all of it for those stupid little flowers. So many things they could have done differently. Waited for the people to come back to their camp and ambush them. Only sending a small group into the Mausoleum at a time, and leaving the entrance heavily guarded.

But then, the wild magic might have gotten into them anyway, and infected their thoughts, their bodies, turning them into the wild magic’s puppets.

Now, Evelyn nuzzled into Janus’ chest, draped over his warmth in bed, though her mind buzzed with possibilities. With the end of their journey starting later today, the Elegant had been repaired to perfection. With the ship laden with Zamorkan specialties, they at last dared to imagine life after all of this.

“To think, traveling and trading in exotic animals was what I was doing before all this. And I didn’t want to go with you people to Zamorka. I hated you for taking me from what I loved.”

Janus, although not expecting this to come from Evelyn, nevertheless rose to the occasion. “We did take you away from everything. But we needed you. And the Six Isles needed us—though it was easy not to consider that at the time.”

“The Six Isles needed us for magic flowers. Found across the sea in the middle of a place no one wants to admit exists. I’m half convinced when we make it back over there, they’ll kill us after declaring we’re bringing back a curse or something.”

“Oh, I don’t think that will happen,” Janus said, giving her a few lazy kisses on her hair. It felt like he was attempting to eat said hair. “We’ll just announce it as a successful and pioneering trip. We’ll show all the goods we collected, and then watch the fight that happens over who will get them.”

“It’s not like their fears of Zamorka are entirely unfounded...” Evelyn said. “I mean, it is cursed.”

“Just little parts. That’s nothing, really,” Janus said, sounding as if he was grinning. She thumped his chest a few times.

“Come on, we have to get ready to leave. Leave Leavenport. You know, do you think they call it Leavenport because people are always leaving?”

A faint groan came from Janus. “I’m going to hurt you.”

“No, you won’t,” she said, laughing as he flipped them over, so the white bedsheets fell off. He pinned her wrists down, and for a moment, desire flitted across his dark eyes, and the tension between them winnowed into an expectant silence.

“We need to go,” he said with a regretful exhale.

“Yes. Yes, we do.” She kissed him anyway, wanting to test his patience, to see if she could distract him enough from their duties. It worked for a minute or two, before they finally threw themselves apart, and got dressed for travel.

They left the hotel, heading towards the landing docks, again besieged by Zamorkan onlookers with mixed reactions. Mostly, they were happy. Their specialist hospitals were already treating victims of the Creeping Rot, and a kind of liquid serum had been devised from the flowers. They were a little dubious about whether the mixture would be enough to heal an infected core, and all the people currently being quarantined in an attempt to isolate them from infecting the general populace.

Their biggest fear came from wondering how much further the Creeping Rot had spread since, and if they were too late to save other people they loved. Slight horror images of her mother and father lying in their beds, with their veins popping out and inked with black as the Rot took them entered her mind. It shouldn’t happen—her parents weren’t magical—but if non-magical people could create someone magical… then perhaps one day, they’d find out the Creeping Rot affected more than just those blessed with powers.

Reaching the docks, they stepped onto the platforms where the Elegant was tied, and onto the gangway leading to the deck. Captain Eswick bullied one of his crew down into the Elegant’s belly to deposit additional supplies, and bowed to them as they walked over.

“Excellent, excellent. We’re just waiting for Rukia and Alex, now, and then we’ll be good to go. We better hurry, though—the Zamorkans are expecting a big wave of traders in an hour, and they’ll want space on these docks.”

“Good to see you, too, Eswick,” Janus said. He and Evelyn weaved their way through some high-strung deckhands to get a good view of the bustling city below, and the ships streaming to and fro.

Eswick had proudly mounted a wildstorm chart next to his compass, which depicted the next storm occurring in one and a half weeks’ time, and its predicted area of influence. Evelyn suspected that Janus would make a tidy profit from selling the storm charts, until the others caught on to how easy it was to obtain one. Just ask a Zamorkan, and they’d practically trip over themselves to give it for a decent price.

Will be interesting for sure, opening up trade routes with this place. And there’s other cities we haven’t visited yet. Not that they had time. They’d already spent enough.

Alex and Rukia returned within twenty minutes, both having gone on some sort of shopping spree, staggering onto the ship with bags of food too heavy for them to carry, and Alex some local Zamorkan games that she wanted to try out at the first opportunity. The Elegant soared into action once Evelyn sat herself within the air witch alcove and began directing the winds to lift them off and sail them into open sky. She loved the familiar lurch of travel just before coating them with the protective pressure bubble to ease their journey back.

Janus and Meridas watched carefully for a while to make sure no one followed them, since they hadn’t fully dealt with the Conclave members intent on sabotaging relations.

Meanwhile, Evelyn daydreamed of the Six Isles as she steered the ship, magic flowing through her in a blissful caress, before Alex stomped over to ask what kind of games she’d be interested in. Evelyn didn’t play games much, other than gambling with cards, so she absently pointed out all the cards Alex had collected, and avoided the games that seemed to have maps with them.

Strange now, to know what they left behind. Not a formless island filled with shadows and demons, but a fully functioning society of people, who traded with others—just not really anyone across the seas. Seemed the world was a lot bigger than Evelyn had previously imagined, if the Zamorkans traded with other nations beyond Jarithas and the Undercity.

The Undercity, though, was at least three times as big as Leavenport. Just a huge mess of buildings and traders and slums that lived in the shadows of the Six Isles.

When night fell upon them, Rukia came to relieve her so she could get some rest. Or join the crew down in the Rec room. “They’re playing several of Alex’s games now. You should try them out, they’re fun.”

Evelyn smiled at Rukia. “Maybe. You know, I wonder which one of us would be the better air witch at the academy.”

“I don’t think it would be a competition,” Rukia said simply. “We’re both good at different things. But, hey, maybe I could take you on.”

Evelyn nodded thoughtfully to herself. One thing she noticed about Rukia was that the woman seemed able to endure utter magical exhaustion better than anyone she’d ever seen. Most people went unconscious once they ran out. This woman, however, seemed able to cling onto wakefulness, and continue pushing out magic, far beyond when she should. She’d sensed Rukia running out during the first wildstorm—and when they were stuck in the wild forest, she’d been sure Rukia had run out.

Yet somehow, the woman kept going. Like she had an exceptionally high tolerance of pain.

I hope we’ll be able to work together some more once we return. I think I’ll quite enjoy it. “Maybe you will.” She patted Rukia on the shoulder, before heading downstairs—and straight for Janus.

All it took was one look from her, a little bit of suggestive posing, and Janus quickly made his excuses to leave the Rec room. Barely had they made it past his bedroom door before he scrabbled at her clothes, determined to yank them off and consume every part of her in passion. His strength comforted and thrilled her. She loved seeing the gleam of the dragon behind his eyes, as he pinned her onto the bed and kissed her deeply, as their bodies joined together in shuddering pleasure.

She feasted herself upon his naked form, from the curving, well-toned muscles to the almost elegant shape of his entire body. She liked seeing how aroused he was for her, but most of her attention was taken by everything else about him. His short, dark hair glistening at the temples with sweat. His eyes hazing over, his breaths coming hot and fast, and the way his arms tensed as he braced himself against her body and used his own legs to nudge hers apart. She let herself sink into him, let him enter her, from body to mind to soul, and dug her fingers tight into his back as they rode the desire to its conclusion.

It sometimes scared her, how quickly the lust took over. It mostly fascinated her, to feel such pull for another person, to want them close in every possible way.

They finished the act and surfaced from the emotions as if they’d been underwater the whole time, gasping for air, trying to function rationally past the licking pleasure in their limbs and the glow of post-coitus. They didn’t talk much. Just lay in each other’s arms, and let sleep take them.

Which happened rather a lot over the course of the journey back to their lands.

Games, steering the ship. Eating, attending to her bodily needs, and sex. Lots of it. Something about being in the air affected them, made them eager to embrace one another so high up. Perhaps because he was a dragon that could fly, and she controlled the winds. The air and open sky was a part of them.

Their calling.

The Undercity and the Six Isles came into sight in just under two weeks of their journey. Their home. Evelyn saw the Isles with new eyes, marveling at their beauty, and the vast labyrinthine sprawl of the Undercity.

“We’re home,” Janus said, wrapping an arm around her as they looked out upon the familiar sights of their country. “And it still seems to be standing.”

For now, anyway.

Meridas directed the ship to dock at the almost abandoned Isle, sending his people with a tiny bottle of the cure into the core, in a hope to heal the hoverstone before it gave out and the entire island plummeted into the Undercity below. They’d already managed the evacuations above and below. Evelyn knew Janus was impatient to get back to Ruthen Isle—but they had to make sure the cure worked.

She waited with him on the ship, talking about introducing him to her family, about what his plans were.

“Aside from healing everyone on Ruthen Isle before it’s too late… I’m thinking about setting up a regular trade route to Zamorka. I know I said I wanted to travel with you around, but I was thinking it would make sense to keep you on this route. Since it’ll take a while for other people to shrug off their superstition. I was wondering if you and Rukia would like to be the air witches to do so,” he said, giving her a few kisses on the cheek, though Evelyn sensed his anxiety, his impatience to be back on Ruthen Isle.

“Only if you pay me obscene amounts of money, because it’s a long journey either way, being stuck on a ship.”

“That can be arranged. I’ll come with you on some of them, if that makes it any better.”

“Oh, it does,” she said with a light purr in her voice. “You better ask Rukia if she wants to keep it up, though.”

Janus glanced discreetly at Rukia, who was reading a book in the alcove. “Maybe later.”

Evelyn smiled, thinking about how her family would react if she told them she was now sending trade ships to Zamorka. Probably not well. And that made her all the more eager to mention it. Along with the fact that she happened to be dating a Ruthe family member, and one that transformed into a huge, biting dragon.

Should be a very interesting family reunion.

Meridas and Alex returned around an hour later, flushed but beaming.

“It works,” they said.

“Great!” Evelyn clapped her hands together. “Did it go… smoothly?”

“About as smooth as it could go,” Alex replied, narrowing her eyes at Janus’ now agitated pacing. “We used almost all our bottle, but it didn’t take as much as we thought. This cure is good. We can stop the disease.”

“Until the next time it appears,” Meridas said in a rather ominous tone.

“Fantastic,” Janus snapped at them. “Now can we go and heal the people on my island?”

“Of course.” Meridas strode over to tell Rukia to launch them off. Janus teetered on the edge, eager to get the cure to Ruthen Island, and Evelyn held his hand all the way back home.

The Dragon's Storm Witch

Six Isles’ Witches & Dragons

Book 3

By: Lisa Daniels

Prologue: Fall of Serpent’s Isle

Although no one expected the island to fall, it did. Perran’s parents had lied to him for ages about how nothing would happen, that people talking about their home collapsing were just trying to make him worry. Maybe they were convincing themselves that everything was fine. Right up until the point where it wasn’t.

He held his sister Emilie’s hand, and they leaned over the railing of the skyship evacuating them from Serpent Isle, watching their home plummet into darkness. His best friend, Lissa, watched with wet eyes.

“My parents will help you,” Perran said to Lissa, as she shook and shook. “We won’t let you be alone.”

The older girl wiped her nose, saying nothing, just staring beyond the wind and rain, as if hoping, somehow, the island would rise again. Other kids and adults watched from the dark, wooden decks, most silent, some whispering, crying, or conversing with each other in low tones. The cold night bit into Perran, and he wanted to retreat below. Lissa had other plans, though, and he didn’t intend to leave her alone on the deck.

“Why did our parents lie?” Emilie whispered, hugging her brother tight.

“I don’t know,” Perran replied. He stared down at his sister’s head, smelling her wet hair, feeling her shiver against him. Seeing her cry, nestled up against him, made him wish she’d stop. He didn’t want his little sister to be so sad.

Whatever happened in the future, he knew he’d protect her. Even if their home had vanished, and people they loved and knew had been lost, at least they still had each other. Him and Emilie against the world. Oh, and Lissa, too.

Chapter One – Kelsey

She opened the door to a stranger in her master’s house. She tried not to look at him as she’d been trained, since any failure to comply on her part resulted in punishment—but something about his manner made her glance up. From the red, carpeted floor to his kind face, with deep brown eyes and curly, black hair, he had a certain pull about him. Only lords and wealthy men held that kind of authority. She knew her mistake the moment she did it, and one of the main house servants spotted it with a gleeful grin.

Why did it have to be Charlotte, of all people?

“I have business with Lord Feylen,” the man said. “Can you lead me to him?”

Gaze now firmly fixed on the floor, Kelsey gave a polite curtsy. “Yes, m’lord. Right this way.” She inwardly prayed that Charlotte wouldn’t go scuttling to Master Feylen before his guest was introduced, but it was a forlorn hope, to say the least.

“I’m no lord, but thank you,” the man said, his light voice gentle in comparison to Feylen’s brittle, smoke-filled tones. “Not unless one of my many siblings drops dead, but we can’t have everything.”

She didn’t answer, didn’t want to provoke a discussion which might get her punished for fraternizing. Sweat beaded on her forehead. Why had she allowed herself to look up at him? Stupid, stupid—how many times did they have to beat her before she stopped? She thought about the marks on her back from the latest whipping. The worst mark was etched across her buttocks, where Feylen meticulously landed his whip on the same spot each time. Turning it from bad to worse to agonizing. Sweet skies, if they punished her today, she’d be bleeding everywhere. Slower in her duties. No—she’d find a way. Swipe some extra bandages from the apothecary with her wages. She was almost out of coin—Feylen didn’t like to pay bad workers much—but at least she was here, right?

Here in the Six Isles, instead of down in the scummy, disgusting Undercity. She shivered, remembering Feylen telling her that if she didn’t work hard enough, he’d send her right back down there, lottery ticket winner or not. Outside Master Feylen’s study at last, Kelsey curtsied again, staring firmly at his shiny brown shoes.

“Thank you. Now… are you all right? You seem… stressed,” the man said. To Kelsey’s horror, he crouched down, clearly looking at her face. Get away!

“I’mfinethankyousir, Ihavetogo,” she babbled, backing away from him, desperately keeping her eyes fixed on the ground. Fear and anxiety welled up inside her until it choked her from within, and curses, she could even feel the prick of tears attacking.

“So, the rumors are true, then.” Now the stranger’s voice turned from syrupy nice to hard, unamused. “Get back here.”

No! If I’ve upset the guest… Wretchedly, Kelsey stopped her scuttle away, and drew nearer. “I’m sorry, sir—please don’t think bad of me.”

“I don’t think badly of you at all. Look at me. Come on.” The man’s voice turned kind again.

“No!” Kelsey barked the word, then clapped her hands over her mouth in horror. “No, sir, lord, I can’t. I’m not supposed to look at the guests, it’s bad manners.”

“Bad manners…? It’s considered good manners to look someone in the eyes when speaking to them.”

“Will be...” She barely managed to squeak out the next word, “punished.”

“Punished.” His voice came out flat. “For the mere crime of looking at someone. Sounds like you live with a monster, little one.”

“Forget I said anything, sir. I’m sorry. I’m speaking out of place.”

He moved towards her. “Be still.” One finger touched her chin, forcing her to lift her face up, though she still looked anywhere but at him. “The state of this,” he muttered. “And I detect bruising upon your neck.” His hand tugged at her servant’s robe, revealing more of her body, more of the bruises. “Whip marks.”

She squeezed her eyes tightly shut. Her back already throbbed in the fearful knowledge of getting beaten.

“It’s disgusting. Truly disgusting.” His words sounded like an insult, but the tone didn’t fit with one.

“W-what do you mean?” He must mean her. What else would he mean?

He halted his examination of her bruises. “Oh, just that I prefer my servants significantly less abused. Come. Follow me inside.”

Stomach sinking, she had no choice but to obey, in case the guest had cause to complain. She opened her eyes at last when he knocked upon the door of Master Feylen’s study.

“Enter!”

The stranger went through, and she slinked after him, just in time to spot Charlotte walking off through the door to the kitchens, pleased with herself.

She’s told the master. I’d hoped she wouldn’t.

“Ah, Sir Rus, I’ve been expecting you.”

With Kelsey’s view of the wooden, lacquered floor, she saw her master getting up to shake Rus’ hand. Was it a name or surname? Because Rus sounded awfully like a person who came from Azarus Isle, and that was the king’s place. The king with all his many children, all far more significant then she’d ever be.

“Get out, girl,” Feylen said then, clearly fixing on her. “You will be required later.”

“Oh, I asked her to stay,” Rus said, forestalling Kelsey’s sudden hope of escaping this nightmare. “Hope you don’t mind.”

“I do,” Feylen growled. “I would rather not have a servant listening to our business.”

“It won’t take long. All right, so, I know we were considering doing a trading deal together, regarding obtaining commerce from Zamorka. You’re offering a fair sum of money, and I very much appreciate that. However… there’s a little snag.”

“What?”

Kelsey continued to make herself as small as possible in the corner of Feylen’s grand study, imagining dirt pouring out from her and contaminating the floor because of her unworthy presence. She imagined Charlotte and some of the other servants peeking when Feylen finally got to punishing her. They didn’t get punished as much, because they were natural born citizens, and never needed to rely on luck to get them out of there. Kelsey, in the meanwhile, had been paying for a ticket every week ever since she’d been drawing pay in her family’s business. Her mother and father were clockmakers, which didn’t earn a lot of money, but certainly enough to make them comfortable in comparison to the others in the Undercity. And she’d been fortunate enough to have her own parents be able to afford to pay her.

Winning the lottery had once felt like such a beautiful dream. Going up to the Six Isles, being placed to work in a master’s house, having a home up there… taking the ferry to Feylok Isle had been so exciting.

Right up until she found out just what kind of people lived in Feylen’s manse. People who mocked her lack of manners, people who laughed and called her stupid and useless because she couldn’t do the things they did. As for Feylen…

He had made it clear that he loathed those who had made it up here by luck, rather than effort. She was only here because the bureaucrats were required to find space for Kelsey to live and draw pay, not because he wanted her.

Yet every time her parents wrote to her, she told them what a wonderful time she was having. She didn’t want to crush their dreams, to lose the little money she sent them, and to keep them firmly lodged in that shop for the rest of their lives.

“You see,” Rus said, now raising his chin in an impressive manner, “I don’t appreciate the kind of service you’re running here with your servants. This one here is terrified even to be addressed. She has bruises. I’ve heard some rumors about how you treat people, but I have to say, you’ve really worked your magic on this one, haven’t you?”

“It’s none of your business,” Feylen snarled, bristling. “Either talk about business or get out of my house. I did not invite you here to insult me.”

Rus continued to smile amiably, until he pulled out a small, glittering brass badge from his pocket. “Skytown Police.”

Kelsey glanced upward to see her master’s face, despite knowing the trouble it’d get her in, to see his features contort with rage. “Police?” he sputtered, almost apoplectic. “You mean you tricked me?”

“I’m required to search your premises, with reasonable suspicion that you abuse the people you hire and who work in your place. If I am found correct in my assumption, you will be stripped of your right to employee subsidies, lose your current crop of servants, and pay a hefty fine.” Rus continued wearing his easy smile. “My men are searching your premises as I speak.”

“You—you can’t do this! How dare you—my home—my servants—” Feylen struggled to express his indignation, and for the first time, a faint glimmer of hope flickered in Kelsey.

“We have received a number of complaints about your conduct. And at least three sexual abuse cases, too, which should make you look just great in front of a grand jury.”

Feylen continued to sputter, before he seemed to remember that Kelsey was in the room. “I bet she told you lies, didn’t she? You lied, didn’t you, you little witch!” He got up, fingers twitching as if they wanted to wrap around her throat, and began to stalk across the length of the room, bearing down upon Kelsey.

Before Feylen completed his advance, Rus’ form undulated, shifting from a well-dressed, straight-backed figure to a dark gray, snarling serpent, with ominous dagger-shaped teeth and dark lizard eyes. The dragon’s wings expanded outwards, knocking Feylen onto the floor, and his anger dissolved into sudden terror. “No… you can’t do this!”

The dragon snapped those wicked teeth inches away from Feylen’s face, and he let out a scream of terror. Meanwhile, Kelsey watched in both horror and fascination, both fearful for her master, and elated that someone at last was punishing him, which then led to guilt.

Rus neatly folded back into his human body, still wearing clothes. “Always takes some concentration to keep the clothes on just right,” he said, brushing off imaginary dust from his suited sleeves. “You will relinquish control of your servants within the hour. We will be looking into your house and searching for any other evidence of abuse or potential tax fraud. I do hope we won’t meet again.”

He patted Kelsey on the back, before giving her a brisk, one-armed hug. “There. You’ll be out and free. No more abuse.”

“Won’t… won’t I be sent back to the Undercity?”

“Of course not. Unless that’s what you want, of course.”

She shook her head furiously, falling mute as he steered her out of the room, unable to shrug off the feeling that she’d done something terribly wrong. That she shouldn’t dare hope that life under the thumb of Lord Feylen was over.

She didn’t dare say anything else to him. And kept her gaze once more affixed to the floor.

Chapter Two – Perran

Perran Rus hated weak, passive people. He hated the ones who turned them into shadows of human beings, and hated how they perpetrated their own misery afterwards. Humans were predators, after all. If they sensed weakness, no matter how nice they might have been, it was just too easy to take advantage of the weak. So when he saw them, he was simultaneously aware of the abuse inflicted upon them, and furious at them for not standing up for themselves at the same time.

He’d seen too many cases of abuse during his time at Skytown Police services. They were mostly the cases he got sent on. Abusive husbands and wives, exploitation of lottery winners, the poor who thought their luck had finally changed with a winning ticket, and the poisonous, tax-avoiding rich ones who thought they could get away with everything.

Now he had a whole host of servants in his possession who needed rehoming. He bundled them all up on his skyship now, noting how some appeared disgruntled, others lost. Kelsey slunk aboard as if she was some beaten animal, and the other servants eyed her like predators. Yes… people always sensed the weak ones in a group and picked on them. Human nature to do so. The more he observed Kelsey, the more he became convinced that if she was thrown into another unknown household, she’d have a miserable time.

His parents said that the weak couldn’t be cured of their weakness. There had to be predators, there had to be prey. The natural world demanded this.

Prey like his sister. Who married a man and refused to admit she needed help or that he was terrorizing her. Who didn’t even transform into her dragon self to defend herself from assault, and ended up dead.

She could have defended herself. She could have stood up for herself. She had the power within her to do so. But she didn’t.

Perran glared at Kelsey for longer. By the time the ship was loaded, and the lord tucked away in prison, his mind had been made up.

Kelsey would be his new pet project. That cringing pile of weak would be transformed, one way or another, under his care. He’d need to bring other people into this little project, too.

“Sir,” Officer Haut said, appearing slightly flustered. He saluted as Perran’s attention settled on him. “The lord is detained, though he’s threatening to bring down charges upon our department for humiliating him.”

“Let him do so. If he wasn’t such a bastard, then he would never have found himself in such a position to begin with.” Perran walked past Haut, asking for them to lift off and touch base on Azarus Isle. The island of the royals, and the one with the most traffic in and out, which meant the sooner they got moving, the better. No more cases for him to attend today, at least. Lord Feylen was a special case the precinct wanted to crack down on for a while—people like him stopped those below wanting to come to the isles, and the lottery did help fund the islands, so… it made sense from a pure business perspective.

The air witch, Luan, didn’t like talking much. Her face was heavily tattooed, and she made no gestures with her hands at all when she lurched the ship forwards, manipulating the winds to carry them to greater heights towards Azarus. Most people disappeared below, but Kelsey remained on the top deck, clinging to the side railings, the breeze whipping her dark hair into a frenzy. He didn’t want to talk to her, really, not when he knew the kind of responses to expect. Still, she should probably know he intended to adopt her into his household. Might be nice.

He made his footsteps deliberately loud, so she wouldn’t startle, and she turned around to face him as he approached on the starboard side.

“Hello,” he said, lips spreading into a smile. “How are you feeling?”

As expected, she flushed and looked down at the ground. Which made him internally scream and want to shake her like a doll. “I’m o-okay. Still can’t really believe that I’m not in the master’s house.”

“He’s not your master anymore. All his servants will be going to new places.” He really wished she’d stop shrinking into herself, as if expecting to be beaten.

“And… me?”

“You’ll be with me,” Perran said, forcing a smile. “And I’ll be teaching you to grow a spine.”

Her eyebrows puckered slightly. “Excuse me?”

“Look at me. There’s no punishment awaiting you if you do.” He coaxed her gently, and soon her dark brown eyes were fixed upon his. “That’s it. I don’t want you constantly looking away or down every time someone speaks to you. I’ll consider it impolite.”

With her cheeks going a deep, ugly red, she nodded. “Okay.”

He contemplated her for a moment. “Why did you let yourself be treated the way you were?”

“I don’t...” she hesitated, now appearing confused. “I’m a servant. It’s my duty to do my work. And to be punished if I don’t do it… correctly.”

“Perhaps,” Perran said. “But it also depends on what can be classified as good work and bad work. The punishment must be just. So must the definition of good and bad work. For example… if you steal from me, I would consider that exceptionally bad work.” His voice dipped to a hiss, and she shivered. “But if you look me in the eyes, that’s nothing. It’s just normal human interaction. That’s not a crime. And I’m… let’s just say I’m not the most impressed with your master for treating you like a pile of dirt.”

Her eyes flickered downward, and he reminded her to look at him again. She cleared her throat nervously, her legs moving from side to side like a restless dog. “He… I didn’t want to be sent back to the Undercity. Not with how… useless I am. I’d be a burden, earning no money. Doing nothing. Being stupid...” Tears pricked her eyelids. The words in her seemed to be some monstrous force, stuck in her throat, so that she needed to hack them out. “Whatever happened to me, I deserved it. He’d… make me see. How selfish I was.”

Perran closed his eyes and let out a heavy sigh. “Sweetling, that’s what brainwashing does. He stamps on you and strips away every last part of you, until there’s nothing left but a vessel that leaps to do his every bidding. So when he’s not around, you feel empty, lonely—like you’ve lost all meaning to your life, and you’re too frightened to change it.”

Images of his sister swam to mind. How he’d tried so hard to get her out of there, but she broke down in front of him, sobbing hysterically, even as she tried to hide the bruises on her neck. Saying she loved him. She deserved this. She just needed to be a better person for him. A better wife.

If only you came with me. If only you’d listened.

But they never did listen, did they? They nodded and said yes, and agreed with you in the moment, but as soon as your back was turned, they went slinking back to their little cesspits of misery.

When Kelsey said nothing, but stood there dumbly with a blank expression, Perran added, “You know he was a bad man, right? Don’t you?”

After a glacial, awkward pause, she said, “He did some good things.”

“Doesn’t change the fact that he’s a bad man.” He reached out to hold her by the shoulders, wondering if she’d flinch away from him. When she didn’t, he attempted a smile. “You understand that, don’t you? The good things he did were just a way to stop you from running when he did the bad things. They were blackmail. He wanted you to believe that if you just behaved well, then you would see more good things.”

Her blank expression persisted, but he felt the sharp intake of breath and something shudder inside her. Tears spat out of her like a broken dam, and her face contorted into graceless crying. Startled, he brought the sobbing, snotty woman against his chest, suddenly stiff. He didn’t offer a good, warm hug, but he settled for gently patting her on her head, trying to decide if he was embarrassed by the emotion, or pleased to see her bawling it out. He continued patting her on the head, before freezing in his comforting motion. Lightning crackled in front of him. Small, static blue and yellow flashes, under a clear and cloudless sky. Every hair on his body stood up on end, tingling with unseen static. This wasn’t exactly a normal, everyday thing, and the harder Kelsey blubbed, the stronger the crackles became.

“Um,” he said intelligently, but she ignored him, continuing to wail as if everything she’d ever known had been burned to the ground. Maybe he partially related to that feeling, but he didn’t lose family when Serpent Isle fell. Just his home. And then his sister, Emilie.

“I’m so stupid!” she choked, digging her hands into him so hard that if he wasn’t wearing a thick fur jacket, she might have drawn blood with those nails of hers. “I’m so sky-cursing stupid!”

Some of the lightning zapped him, and his arms jerked reflexively from the pain. “Kelsey,” he said urgently, now trying to peel her off him. “You’re shocking me.”

“I—huh?” She blinked in teary confusion, just in time to see the flickering cloud of lightning around them. “What’s happening?”

“You,” he said, now holding the underside of her elbows. “I think… you’re the one causing this.”

He stopped her from backing away in surprise, given that it might just tip her over the edge, and he wasn’t entirely sure if Luan would be paying enough attention to haul Kelsey back on board. “I’m a witch,” she said, and her expression went from surprise to horror. “It’s true. I’m—he called me one...”

“It’s a very good thing to be a witch in the Six Isles, trust me on this, love,” he growled. “Keeps the world going around. Makes ships move, people live. So whatever he’s been saying to you—forget it all right now. Own your witchiness. Skies know I’d like to be one myself.” He stroked her once under the chin, before seizing his handkerchief out of his inside coat pocket for her to wipe away the snot and tears. He was pleased to see she wasn’t trying to look away from him now, or hunch into herself. Good start. Maybe she’d be an easier target to retrain than he thought.

Something his sister could be proud of.

“You know,” she whispered, mouth and nose hidden behind the handkerchief, as the last of the lightning vanished, “I used to get a lot of static shocks. Especially when I was emotional. I’d wake up with odd burn marks in my mattress. I used to get in trouble for that… I thought I was cursed.” She took a great sniff. “Guess I am.”

“It’s only a curse if you’re stupid.” He began to push her towards Luan, hoping he’d manage to get some whole, comprehensive sentences out of the tattooed witch. They shuttered themselves in Luan’s alcove, a small, arched seating area sheltered from the outside on three sides, and Luan looked up from the picture she was scribbling. The short-haired, tattooed witch, with duplicate inked sets of three severe black claws coming from her eyes and down her cheeks, gave a great sniff.

“Luan, how nice to see you. Listen, this is Kelsey. Formerly a slave of Lord Feylen, now shortly to be under my employment. She’s just discovered she’s a witch.”

“And?”

Well, this was promising. “I was wondering if you can help her out. I don’t think she knows a lot about the witch stuff. You were a lottery winner from the Undercity, right?” he asked Kelsey, who nodded mutely, eyes nearly popping out of her head at the ominous sight of Luan. “Yes, they teach them to be afraid of witches down there.”

Luan’s mouth curved into a sardonic smile. “They should be.” She sniffed at Kelsey. “Storm witch. I can smell the static from here. Not bad… could make a killing with that kind of power. Literally.”

At this point, Perran could tell that Kelsey was on the verge of exploding with all the information shunted her way. Transformation from abused servant to all-powerful storm witch didn’t happen in a day. But he also didn’t plan to ease her into it gently. It was more of a shove into the deep end, and see if she started swimming or drowning. “Great! I’ll leave you two together and bring you some food. Luan’s a good air witch, Kelsey. She usually helps in apprehending criminals alongside sailing the sky ship. She’s also just fantastic at extracting a confession from them. Her specialty is sucking the oxygen out of someone’s lungs. Does wonders in getting them to talk.” He winked at Kelsey, who gaped at him with eyes that begged, please don’t leave me alone with someone like that, and he promised to be back shortly to get them food. Kelsey, of course, so used to obeying instructions, would stay here, since he’d insinuated it. And she probably didn’t want to upset her new master.

Perhaps he was cruel, but he felt a sudden, wild urge to burst out laughing as he walked away from them.

Sink or swim, little one, he thought with a smirk. Sink or cursing swim.

Chapter Three – Kelsey

“Oh, come now,” Luan said in a low, sultry voice. “I won’t take the air out of your lungs yet. You’ve not done anything wrong.” She wore one of those cruel, teasing smiles, the same kind Kelsey was used to seeing on Charlotte and the other servants. People who took sheer pleasure in watching someone else sweat.

She felt herself shrinking further and further into herself, wishing she could disappear. First, being taken from Master Feylen’s house, separated from the other servants. Next, that police officer talking to her, telling her all those things… then that storm inside her, so overwhelming, like she’d never cried in her life…

And then finding out about her cursed powers. I’m a witch, like he said. I’m a witch. That knowledge sent a cold shiver inside her, compounded with fear since she sat next to a witch who quite clearly wasn’t opposed to the whole torture and killing aspect of her powers.

“It’s rare to see a storm witch so old and untrained like you,” Luan continued, running a tongue over her bottom lip. “You must be, what, twenty or such? They usually get discovered really young.”

“Twenty-one,” Kelsey murmured, edging backwards on the seat, as if a few more inches of distance might somehow protect her from an air witch’s grisly wrath.

“You must have been practically sleepwalking through your life, then,” Luan said. She gave Kelsey a disdainful, contemptuous glance, which automatically made Kelsey want to shrink even more. “Having all that power and not using it is just asking for bad treatment.”

Kelsey said nothing to this, only closing her eyes and blocking out the air witch, so she didn’t have to look at her strange face any longer. In the meanwhile, her whole body felt as if the strings had been cut. Everything she’d worked for had vanished. Her poor parents, so delighted, so elated at Kelsey winning the lottery. Waving her goodbye. She was happy then. Full of joy, full of hope for the future. So happy to be able to provide for her family, and maybe one day move them up to the sky with her.

She had… forgotten how that happiness felt. And she did feel every bit as empty as Perran Rus described. Nothing driving her other than the constant need to try and please someone else.

Someone who couldn’t be pleased.

Would it really get any better with new people? Or would they just be more of the same, with an air witch who sucked life out of someone’s lungs, and a man who could transform into a dragon?

“You got family back in the Undercity?” Luan asked then, cutting through the swirl of thoughts. Her tone was less harsh than before, less cruel. “People who you want to visit?”

“My parents.” Kelsey opened her eyes to examine the woman, who looked oddly sinister in the dimmer lighting of the alcove. Luan didn’t smile. Kelsey wondered if the air witch even could. “They think everything is perfect, however.”

“You lied to them?”

“I didn’t want them to know the truth. They’re getting a lot of money from me working up here. I don’t want them to feel like it’s… dirty money or something.”

“You really are stupid,” Luan said. “But the nice kind of stupid, I suppose.”

That sounded like both an insult and a compliment at the same time. “I’m… scared of being sent back to the Undercity.” Or getting a new master that costs me everything I have to please them.

“Only way you’re going back to the Undercity is if your island falls out the sky. Though at this rate, we might be losing a few. Can’t turn your back for a moment until the Creeping Rot makes an appearance somewhere. Even with that fancy cure they’ve engineered and all.”

“I’m sorry. What?”

Luan stared at her, unimpressed. “What d’you know about the Creeping Rot?”

Kelsey gave a helpless shrug in return. “I don’t know what that is.”

“What about the Six Isles and how it runs? What about the different types of witches that exist up here?”

Again, the shrug came, and Kelsey’s cheeks reddened in shame for her lack of knowledge.

“Damnation,” Luan said. “You need some learning. Take it your wonderful lord didn’t see fit to attend to your education?”

“My parents gave me one,” Kelsey said, trying to show she wasn’t completely ignorant. “I can do counting, reading, and other such things.”

“Not good enough. Okay.” The air witch firmly grasped Kelsey by the hand, dragging her away from the alcove. “You go and find Lord Perran. Tell him I said you know bird crap about anything, and you need tutoring. He’ll hit you up with someone.”

“But he told me to… stay...”

“Oh, if he gets angry, just tell him I told you to go. Don’t worry. Now, go. I have a ship to move and I’m not that great at multitasking.” Luan slid back onto her seat and resumed with her drawing, contradicting her previous statement.

Heart rate almost tripling, Kelsey made her way below deck, but not before she gave a last glance at the scenery around her. Fluffy, white cirrus clouds and a few gray, anvil-shaped ones, hinting at a storm.

She did know things. About how clouds formed, why snow fell, and the importance of good hygiene. But true… she didn’t know much about how life truly worked on the Six Isles.

And, they told her she was a witch. Not as an insult, but as a fact. A real, true witch, and no one up here would execute her for it.

She probably couldn’t tell her parents she was one, though. It’d break their hearts.

* * *

The journey to Kelsey’s new world went smoothly, as far as riding through a small storm went. When she’d approached Master Rus again, she’d been surprised at how calm he’d been. No anger for her deserting her station, no annoyance at her for explaining what Luan had said. No, he’d just been… calm. She still found her flinching in the wake of a potential threat, though. On her first night in Master Rus’ house, she had a nightmare, one that involved his smiling, affable features twisting into monstrous hatred, flames breathing out of his serpentine mouth, and a distorted voice that sounded more like Master Feylen’s, telling her she’d never run away, never be allowed to betray him.

She’d wanted to talk more to Master Rus, to get a better sense of him, but he left her almost instantly, needing to tend to police matters. His personal servants, of whom there were about four, smiled and showed her about the place, to the two bathrooms, the small kitchen and pantry, the dining room, the study room, and the three bedrooms, two of them being dormitories.

Smaller than Master Feylen’s home. More humble. The servants slept within two rooms on the upper floor, each with three bunk beds, speaking of a time when more servants populated the place. Kelsey was given a bunk all to herself. All the servants were women, which made Kelsey wonder if there was something else about the place she didn’t know.

No one seemed abused, or bitter, or cruel, however. They just were.

In addition to a new bed and new servants who treated her with interest and respect, Master Rus had left her in the attendance of two tutors. They turned up by the early afternoon, and hammered into her a mix of Isles knowledge and therapy.

They didn’t have therapy back in the Undercity. No one wanted to admit there was anything wrong with themselves. But the therapy here was deeply uncomfortable, always trying to force her to look through windows she didn’t want to look through. Telling her that everything she thought of was actually wrong, because she had allowed someone else to dictate her life.

When Perran Rus came back from work, he dropped in to talk to Kelsey about her progress—every day, for the next month. She’d gone from hard-working, hand-calloused servant who could never do anything right to someone who instead spent her days studying and being told to practice “positive” thinking. So, instead of thinking she was worthless, she needed to remind herself every day why she was blessed.

It was… strange, to say the least. And so, so hard at first. Every time someone looked at her with anger or impatience, she kept wanting to run away, or to have apologies streaming out of her mouth. She didn’t want people to hate her. Didn’t want to be confronted. Didn’t want to have to deal with the emotional battering ram every single day.

But she still kept going, out of that desperation to please someone else.

She didn’t exactly think she’d learned much more than she already did, but there came a day when she woke up and stared at the ceiling of her top bunk, a smile coating her face.

Ella and Ruby would be preparing her a hot chocolate for the morning, as they’d done for a solid three weeks. They always took care to leave the room quietly, so she didn’t wake up. She heard them leave anyway, but this was the first time she’d been able to sleep through their getting up and departing to the kitchens. Somehow, that felt enormous.

Like she trusted them enough not to do anything to her.

The other thing that cheered her up was that she wouldn’t be getting therapy or tutoring lessons today. No going through the wringer and coming out of it dried of tears and energy. Just a nice, normal morning, one day a week, on Azarus Isle’s rest day.

Right. I have to… do the positive thing. Her mind drifted over five positive moments in her life. Waking up of her own accord. Learning a Six Isles game which involved trying to navigate a board without being eaten by a dragon. Perran Rus smiling at her. Perran Rus buying her an expensive dress so that it’d be easier for her to remind herself that she wasn’t ugly or worthless. And remembering that Lord Feylen was in jail for six years.

Perfect. She took a moment after getting out of bed to wash and dress herself, marveling that she could actually spend time on this, and decided to wear the new dress in her collection. It was a pale yellow, and modestly covered up her front, the hem reaching past her knees and the sleeves going down to just above her elbows. The extra lining inside it provided some warmth, and she pulled on some white underpants which hugged her legs for additional warmth. Her posture was still bad, so she faced the bathroom mirror, trying to tuck her shoulders back, straighten her spine, and not look as if she were about to scurry away.

What a difference a month made. The shadows under her eyes weren’t so pronounced, and the permanent frown that used to wrap itself around her lips had faded in favor of a neutral expression, one twitch away from a genuine smile. Like her whole face had gained a lift. She enjoyed staring at herself in the mirror just to have the image of before compared to the image of today.

Perhaps something had changed.

Smiling came easier to her lips. She smiled at her own reflection before heading off to the kitchen, where Ruby shoved a hot chocolate in her direction. “You’re sure looking cheerful today,” Ruby said. Ella was holding a baby boy in her arms. He wore a pink dress and his hair was growing out. Pink was considered a masculine color, a muted version of red.

“Is that your son?” Kelsey asked, surprised because she hadn’t seen any hint of a baby before.

“No, he’s my cousin’s. She was busy today, so she just dropped off the baby to look after until then.” Ella cooed at the baby, who raised a pudgy hand to grab at her black hair. “Ah, don’t tug too hard...”

She said this so normally that Kelsey hesitated. “And Lord Rus doesn’t mind?”

“Of course not. We can offer the hospitality of this place to people in our lives. Besides… it’s not like he spends that much time here,” Ella said, now swaying her arms to try and lull the tiny human ball into sleep. “I’ll tell you once, a hundred times, a thousand times—Master Rus is nothing like that slimeball, Feylen.”

Suppressing the instinct to defend Feylen, Kelsey reluctantly nodded. “He’s a good man. Dragon. You know, I didn’t realize that dragons started off as humans.”

“It’s a power,” Ruby said. “Like your storm witch power. Seeing as we’re talking about that… how is your power getting on?”

“They haven’t found a storm witch to teach me yet,” Kelsey said. “So, I’m just working on controlling my emotions. They… appear when I’m not settled.”

“The sooner you learn, the better. A storm witch is super useful. We have light witches to create our light sources. Air witches to keep us safe from winds. And storm witches, who can summon storms and use lightning as a weapon. The natural energy of a storm provides a lot of money for people who use lightning rather than light witch powers. Usually, skyships have to go out hunting for storms so they can collect the lightning. But a storm witch…? That’s some big circs right there.”

It likely explained why Master Rus had some difficulties in locating a storm witch. He’d told her the last one to graduate from the Six Isles was living on some distant, small island, far away from here, where traders went for exotic animals and furs.

“You could just try to learn by yourself, too. I would,” Ella said, now squinting suspiciously at the baby boy, who had his eyes closed. “I hope you’re not tricking me, little wailer...”

Finishing off the hot chocolate, Kelsey wiped her mouth. “I’m not so sure. It seems dangerous. I don’t want to accidentally hurt someone.”

“So, just practice in a place where there aren’t many people,” Ruby shrugged, before she waved at the other two servants, Tia and Alice. The servants who slept in the other room grabbed drinks before hurrying off to their assigned work chores for the day. They only ever really talked to one another, maintaining a polite association with Ruby, Ella, and now Kelsey.

Which suited Kelsey just fine. Ella slowly walked out of the kitchen with the baby, and Ruby seemed quite content to sit where she was, making another drink for herself. Ruby did tend to spend a long time waking up in the mornings. A question sat inside Kelsey, one that grew with every day that passed ever since Master Rus had taken her out of Feylen’s home. Ever since she’d seen faint glimmers of disgust on his face when she cringed away from him, when she refused to look him in the eyes, when she spoke of herself as a burden.

He had genuinely gone out of his way to help her. She recognized that much. Education, therapy to try and make her question her own actions better. But with his help, she still couldn’t shrug off that look on his face.

She hadn’t imagined it. And she thought it related to why he spent little time with her, other than to ask her progress. Ruby might not be the best person to ask, but Kelsey didn’t exactly have other options, since her tutor and therapist knew next to nothing about Master Rus. “Can I ask you a question, Ruby?”

The dark-haired, dark-skinned girl raised her bushy eyebrows. “Sure. You can ask me anything, you know that.”

“I know.” And I’m grateful for it. “I was just wondering… about Master Rus.”

“What about him?”

Even thinking about asking the question sent a tremor of fear inside. “I was just wondering… why he helped me. I wasn’t the only servant in that place who was maltreated… but he helped me.”

Ruby shrugged. “I couldn’t tell you. He does it sometimes—just helps people out.”

“I could tell you.” A new, rougher voice penetrated the kitchen. Ruby and Kelsey turned, and saw a tattooed, short-haired woman swagger in through the door. Luan. “ ‘Bout why the dragon man goes around helping the little lost souls.”

“Skies,” Ruby whispered, placing a hand on Kelsey’s shoulder. “Why are you here?”

“I’m here for the storm witch.” Luan folded her black-sleeved arms, grinning as she took up a masculine stance. “We got places to be.”

Luan wore a sneer as Ruby left the room, glancing back every now and then with open hostility. Luan held out a hand to stop Kelsey following suit. “Nuh uh, girl. Looks like you’re already dressed to impress. You’re staying with me.”

Swallowing down fear, Kelsey reluctantly made her way back to the cupboards, distracting herself by making another drink. She already needed the bathroom as it was, but remembering what they said about the air witch—that she sucked the breath out of people’s lungs, that she retrieved “confessions” from criminals… Kelsey didn’t want to have to stare at Luan too much. Or give the woman an excuse to use her powers.

“Yeah, I’ll have a coffee. Black,” Luan said, as if expecting Kelsey to make something for her. Sighing inwardly, Kelsey began preparations for one. “Right, so before we leave, I can answer for you that little question you were asking the help.”

“Do you know Master Rus well, then?” Kelsey kept her conversation polite, her body guarded.

“Well enough. You’re not the only one he’s tried to save.” Luan stepped uncomfortably close to Kelsey, watching her prepare the drink. Her breath was practically on Kelsey’s neck. “He does tend to make the quiet, weak ones his pet projects.”

The words stung, and Kelsey couldn’t quite hide the tremor in her voice. “What do you mean?”

A brief pause. The hissing sounds of the kettle filled the room, as it warmed up from the stove fire. The kettle dangled from a metal bar above the fire.

“It’s a thing he does. Out of guilt. I may not know everything about him, but I do know that he used to have a sister. One that fell in with the wrong man. Sad, really.” Luan didn’t sound sad in her voice, which gave the story a cruel edge to it. “She was a dragon shifter, but she loved the man so much that she allowed him to grind her to a tiny, tiny point. Until she just didn’t understand the abuse, or didn’t want to understand it.”

A chill went through Kelsey. She turned briefly to face Luan, and the girl’s dark eyes were wide, and magnetic. Pulling Kelsey’s attention. “She was… abused?”

“Yes. He tried, you know. They say he didn’t, but from the time I’ve associated with him, I know that he tried sky-cursing hard to get her out of there. But once you get past a certain level of breaking down someone’s spirit, they’re gone.” She glanced towards the kettle. “Think it’s done, now.”

Hastily, Kelsey made it, her mind expanding from what Luan had told her. She didn’t know what to think or feel about it, so she said, “He helps people who are… abused… like his sister?” Handing the coffee to Luan, she watched as the air witch sniffed at it.

“Something like that. I imagine it gets tiring, watching so many people not stick up for themselves. Life’s already hard without making it worse by yourself, you know? So many people out there to put you down. Why do it for them?” She drank the coffee and let out a sigh. Draining it completely, Luan twitched her lips in an approximation of a smile. “Thanks. Come with me.”

Kelsey considered the words, her pulse picking up. Her trepidation around the air witch was drowned out by a new, growing curiosity. One that made her want to know just what exactly Master Rus thought of her. And by that extension, Luan.

She’d now figured out what about Luan scared her. The woman just didn’t care about softening her words. She was cruel. But not like… not like Feylen. “What do you think he thinks of me? What do you think of me?”

“Sure you want me to answer that?” Luan led her out, now walking towards the nearest sky docks. “Since, no offense, you are the victim type.”

Although Kelsey flushed at the statement, she set her jaw. “I want to know.” I’m just not sure if I can handle it.

“No, you don’t.” Luan said nothing more for a moment, and they continued walking across the cold, stone ground, nearing a huge, stationary ship. “I can see it in your face. You’re not ready.”

On the ship, called the Elegant,  Kelsey found herself surrounded by people, deckhands in a hurry over preparations, and spotted two women sitting in the alcove, talking. Two air witches? Lord Rus was there, too, buried within a group of people, none of whom Kelsey recognized.

“What...” Kelsey began, but stopped when a grumpy-looking woman stepped in front of her, with a lock of blonde in her otherwise dark hair.

“This is the storm witch, Luan?” the woman asked.

“Yes… but she’ll need some practice,” Luan said. “Kelsey, this is Alex. Alex, Kelsey. Both of you are Undercity dogs, right?”

Alex’s lips twitched. “Hopefully not from the same kind of background I had.”

“You’re from the Undercity?” Kelsey raised an eyebrow.

“Straight from the jail, yes. Before that, I worked in a baby farmer’s house.”

Kelsey winced at that. She’d heard about baby farmers. They’d take an unwanted child for some coin. Speculation remained just as to what happened to the child after it’d been handed over. “My parents were clockmakers. They owned a shop.”

“How did you get up here? I was sprung out of jail before they executed me. Meridas over there—” Alex jerked a thumb over at a tall, regal man, “wanted a witch to help heal his sister. And I was the one for the job. Life witch, at your service.”

Remembering from her tutor that there was a very prominent life witch active in the Six Isles, Kelsey nodded. “Oh! I’ve heard about you. You helped cure something very horrible, didn’t you? And you went on a journey to that place, Zamorka. With...” she hesitated. “Is this the same ship that went to Zamorka?”

“The very same,” Alex said. “Welcome to the Elegant.” She pointed over to the two women sitting in the alcove. “Over there are two talented air witches, Evelyn and Rukia. And there...” she pointed at a dark-haired woman who shared similar features with Meridas, “that’s Meridas’ sister, Vash. And his ex-wife, Natalie.”

There really were quite a lot of people here. Alex continued rattling out names, but Kelsey had phased out slightly, unable to concentrate. So many important figures here. So many people, some whom she had heard Master Feylen admire or insult. She remembered Master Feylen once wanting to try and buy Meridas’ pet life witch.

“Why am I here?”

She cut through the noise, and Luan simply pointed in the direction of Perran Rus. “You’d best be taking it up with him. I was just supposed to bring you here.” Before Kelsey could ask or beg Luan to stay with her, since Luan was the only familiar face right now, even if she happened to be scary, the witch strolled over to join the other two air witches in their alcove. Alex, meanwhile, had been swept up by Lady Vash, leaving Kelsey to pick her way over to Master Rus.

All the while, as she watched him, she thought about the sister he must have loved and lost. Someone who died. Details were hazy on the death, but it was likely related to the abuse she had received. Beaten to death? Suicide? She had a little window into Perran Rus’ soul, and it felt strange to be able to picture him in that light. Not as some police officer, or a dragon, or somebody who didn’t care. But as a man who had someone he couldn’t save.

Maybe that was why she had seen something in his eyes that resembled disgust.

Because she reminded him somewhere of his sister. Of his failure to save her. And perhaps… his sister’s own failure to save herself.

It seemed like such a strange thought to consider, but it’d been over a month since she was thrust into his house.

A month to distance herself from Lord Feylen’s shadow and to understand that, yes, it was okay to step out into the light, and it wouldn’t burn her in the process.

She just needed to keep reminding herself that things were okay.

Since she was told to ask Master Rus the reason for her being there, she approached him, even though she felt anxious at interrupting whatever he was saying to his men. No matter how many times she reminded herself that he wasn’t Lord Feylen, she still experienced a hitch of fear, addressing someone without permission.

Doing things alone was scary.

“Um, excuse me, Master Rus?” she said, too quiet at first. He continued his conversation with the dragon shifter known as Meridas, and she just wanted to slink away. However… he hadn’t heard her. It’d be stupid to react like that. She just needed to make herself clearer. “Master Rus?”

“Yes?” He turned instantly to look at her, one eyebrow raised. An instant little smile appeared on his lips. “Good to see you’re here.”

“Thanks. But… why am I here? I was just wondering, because I thought you were planning to continue my education in the house.”

“You need to learn how to be a storm witch,” he said, the smile increasing upon his lips. “And the nearest storm witch is a long distance away—in the higher islands, where people rarely dare to go. Though they are more prepared to go to the little islands than to Zamorka...”

Oh. She was here because he’d found someone to train her, and people to take her. Her stomach fluttered slightly in appreciation, and perhaps something else. There was something about his offhand dedication to her welfare that affected her, though she couldn’t fully explain it. Perhaps it was just the impression that someone cared, even when they didn’t have to. Like it took no effort to think about someone else.

Like Ruby and Ella making her a drink in the morning, even if she didn’t ask. Luan’s honesty, very rare in a place where no one wanted to reveal their feelings. “How far out are these islands?”

“Around five days. I also need to come—there’s rumors of a notorious criminal hiding upon one of them. The Zamorkan embassy that’s established itself in Azarus are appealing to our precinct to track down a dangerous fugitive—someone from some cult that’s been causing them a lot of troubles.”

“When you say ‘dangerous’, would this be… risky?”

“Life isn’t without risks,” Master Rus replied. “But it’s nothing a dragon can’t handle.” He winked at her, before gesturing to Meridas he’d be back to talking with him in a moment. He stepped up to Kelsey, saying in a low voice next to her ear, “It’s good to see you muster up the confidence to talk. And the look you’ve got now—it suits you.”

Look? Kelsey wasn’t exactly wearing anything different or acting different. But under his gaze, she felt more confident somehow, more like she was worth something.

And that was a very, very good feeling to have.

Chapter Four – Perran

They set sail to the distant islets, and Perran found his attention drifting more and more to Kelsey as the days slipped by. He was tasked with something extraordinarily important, to make sure that their first true cross-country mission between the Six Isles and Leavenport went well. It would break the ice. Maybe teach people here to be less afraid of Zamorkans, and in turn, attract Zamorkans to move here. Their magic would be welcome. The Six Isles relied on their witches for their trade, their crafting of light and lightning, and the heat they made at nights when temperatures dropped beyond reasonable living conditions.

He would find this fugitive, no matter what it took. But in the meanwhile, he wanted to study Kelsey, to see how she held herself in interactions with the others upon the ship.

Honestly, the changes he saw made him so proud. Where was that hunched, timid, beaten-down woman from before? Absent in her daily interactions, as she stood tall and straight, wearing a smile on those plump lips of hers. He liked watching her, though was careful to turn his eyes away when she looked at him, so she wouldn’t catch him staring. He didn’t want her to feel under pressure from his scrutiny.

It made his insides ache, too.

This was what his sister might have been able to transform into, if she’d just allowed him back in her life. If she didn’t feel such a rotten, desperate need to be with her abuser. There was a reason why Perran specialized in victims of domestic abuse in his line of work. It wasn’t like they asked him to do it, but he would volunteer for jobs like that on top of his regular duties. Out of some twisted, burning desire to help someone like he should have helped his sister?

Probably.

He wouldn’t exactly deny that. Just not admit it to anyone else, though he suspected most people he associated with on a regular basis knew. They just didn’t bring it up in conversation, which was fine by him.

“You know, you stare at her way too much. It’s frankly quite disturbing,” cut in Meridas’ voice.

“I’m just hoping she continues being like this,” Perran responded, without shame. “Many people want to change, but very few are willing to take the steps to manage it.”

“Ah.” Meridas nodded in understanding, before his eyes softened when resting on Alex, his partner. “Yes, I heard about your new rescue. What happened to the last one?”

“Didn’t take.” Perran shrugged. “I left her alone, had her promise to keep in contact with me if anything went wrong, and the next thing I find out, she’s back with him, because he’s sworn to change his ways.”

“Her choice,” Meridas said. “Her life.”

“It’s a rotten choice to make,” Perran replied. “No one should voluntarily choose to torture themselves in this way.”

Meridas sighed as small droplets of rain began to penetrate the air bubble around them. “Maybe we should go inside and discuss this further. Drinks are on me.”

Perran snuck one last glance at Kelsey, hoping against hope that she wouldn’t revert back to the mouse of before. He entered the bowels of the Elegant, and in the recreation room, was given a tankard of whisky, a brand so alcoholic and intense-tasting that only dragon shifters could taste it without adverse effects. Not that some humans didn’t try it all the same. He took a sip, feeling it burn inside him, and his senses tingle. Great stuff. Not great for an officer of the law who needed to work, but they had some time before landing on the storm witch’s isle, and then he’d begin the hunt for the Zamorkan fugitive.

“Much of a gambler, Perran? Or you like to keep your funds safely out of other people’s reach? A few of us are quite skilled when it comes to the card bluffs.”

“I might not be sober right now, but I’m not fool enough to have my circs stolen by you scurvy thieves.” Perran bared his teeth in a dangerous grin.

“Suit yourself. Entertainment can be limited when you’re stuck on a ship for five days and nights. Easy to get on each other’s nerves. We are hauling anchor later, though, so the dragons in our group can go get some time in flight, stretch our wings.”

“Good,” Perran said, nodding. Whenever he stayed out of dragon form for too long, he found his emotions beginning to sour. He couldn’t explain why, just that he missed the freedom of his serpentine body. The power it exuded. To have such strength hidden and not to use it… another thing that infuriated him about his sister.

Because she could have gotten out at any time. He finished his first tankard and rapidly worked on the second, loving the burn inside.

One of Perran’s detectives approached, holding a sheaf of papers in his arms. “Sir, a word with you?”

“Word away.” Perran bade Meridas goodbye, filling his tankard with more whisky, then slopping his arm around Detective Haut. “Still poring over the details?”

“Yes, sir,” Haut said, his hazel eyes unsure. He scratched at his dark blond hair with trepidation. “The records the Zamorkans gave us warn of the fugitive being infected with wild magic. My concern is whether wild magic will spread and infect others around them.”

Huh. Perran hadn’t thought of that. The alcohol was getting to his blood now, making it harder to focus. “You think… like the Creeping Rot? That disease we’re having trouble with?”

“Yes, sir. And if the Rot is making it to the distant isles...” Haut sighed. “Then we’re potentially running a suicide mission.”

“We have the life witch on board,” Perran said, thinking of Alex. “She can cure small cases of it. And they do have the cure for it. Keep this quiet. Let’s not panic people any more than necessary,” he stage-whispered, earning a few curious looks from people passing. Drat. Was he that drunk? His head was beginning to spin.

Probably because he hadn’t eaten anything, so the potent alcohol was wrecking him faster than usual. Just as well he wasn’t on duty—he’d have fired himself.

“Sir, what are you drinking?” Haut said, snatching the tankard from him before he had time to say anything else.

“Just… Azar’s Tears,” Perran replied, resisting the urge to laugh at Haut’s horrorstruck face.

“How many drinks?”

“This one’s my third.”

“How in cursed skies are you still standing up?” Haut, disregarding Perran’s superiority, sloshed the alcohol straight out of a port window. “This stuff kills.”

“I’m a dragon, Haut. We—it’s made for us. Good stuff. Excellent for clearing out the guts.”

“Yes, if you want to be embalmed,” Haut snapped. “That’ll be just great for cleaning out those insides.”

Perran grinned. “Good lad. Don’t worry. I know… I just need some food. I’ll stay off. Okay?”

Under careful scrutiny from the younger detective, Perran got served greasy, filling food, with the intention of saturating it with the alcohol and saving him from a killer hangover. He wasn’t usually this unprofessional. The lad had it right to be worried. He’d make a good officer someday. Perran munched his way through the food, even as his head began to spin, and he felt as if he were swaying.

“What is that you’re eating?”

Blearily, he glanced up from his dish, where he’d been struggling to spear a meatball, and came face to face with Kelsey, who had somehow crept up on him in the galley.

“Food,” he supplied. “Because I’m very, very drunk. Maybe you better stay away from me.”

Her mouth wrinkled, giving her a slightly disdainful appearance. Vaguely, he remembered his profile on Lord Feylen. Known alcoholic. Temper exacerbated when intoxicated. Last thing he wanted was to have her scuttering off, convinced he’d do the same things when drunk.

“I’m not an angry drunk,” he replied, words slurring, rushing to reassure her that he wouldn’t do the things that vile individual had done. “Just… not used to the feeling. I have to say, though, this food is delicious. Don’t think I’ve ever tasted anything so good.”

He stabbed his fork down, and a meatball went flying. “Drat,” he said. Yes, why not—make a bigger fool of himself than normal. Kelsey smiled as he made another attempt, this time successfully stabbing and eating. “I… I’m not sure I want to be seen like this,” he admitted, concerned that his loose, woozy manner would scare her off. She needed someone confident and sure of themselves. His sister had needed that, too, but she’d gone for entirely the wrong kind of confident and sure.

“It’s okay,” Kelsey said, her voice soft. “I’ll go in a moment. Though I think you’d be better off eating with a spoon, Master Rus. And use the mash to hold the meatball to it.”

“Don’t,” he said thickly, “call me Master Rus. Call me Perran. I’m not your master. You’re your own woman.”

A faint flush colored her cheeks. “It—it doesn’t seem right to.”

“Why not?” he challenged, trying his hardest to put on a caring expression, and probably failing. “You don’t work for me. Seems strange to consider me as such.”

“I—” Kelsey frowned, considering his words. “No, that’s true, but you’re of superior status to me. It’s just respectful.”

“Then I’ll give you an order. Call me Perran. I’ll consider that respectful,” he said, noting how her eyes went wide. “I want you to think of me as a friend.” He stared into her light brown eyes, which reflected the orblight around them, showing multiple little dots of gold. Her heart-shaped face was on full display, with her hair plaited severely behind. If anything, he thought that look suited her more than having her dark hair hanging loose. She had a good face. No need to hide it.

“If that’s important to you...” Kelsey’s lips struggled wordlessly. “...Perran. Then I will.”

Something about the way she said his name sent heat shooting straight to his groin. Oh, skies. Yeah, alcohol left him less able to hide those reactions. Especially visceral ones. Best to stay seated, pretend everything was alright with the world.

“It is. Thank you.”

He breathed a sigh of relief when she left him. He remained seated for quite some time, cooling himself off. Trying to keep his lips clamped shut so that he didn’t make even more of a fool of himself.

Chapter Five – Kelsey

Something felt different with Kelsey. Her stomach made little flips as the island where the storm witch lived came into sight, and Luan stood by Kelsey’s side, watching almost impassively the island emerging, as if she’d seen this sight far too many times to care.

She probably had.

“Do I take it you don’t enjoy the long traveling much, Luan?” Kelsey examined the woman, no longer finding her quite as scary as before. Even with all those tribal tattoos, and her usually scowling appearance. It just seemed to be her in general.

“It’s annoying as spit to find people who don’t want to be found,” Luan said shortly. “And it’s dangerous since they don’t really do much of a job reinforcing the law. You can spend weeks searching for them.” She scratched her nose. “Plus, I get airsick.”

Kelsey blinked at her. “But you’re an air witch. You control the winds.”

“Doesn’t mean I don’t get airsick. I don’t have as much skill in it as Evelyn and Rukia do. I’m more focused on the… breathless aspect of things.” Luan cocked one eyebrow upright, making Kelsey shiver. “As you’ve heard about, I’m sure.”

Kelsey hoped she’d never have to see it. Being able to torture someone without even touching them was something that honestly sounded terrifying. However… she also suspected Luan wouldn’t just pop it off at a whim. “Who do you think would be stronger in competing with one another? A storm witch, or an air witch?” She folded her arms, now genuinely interested. “It does seem to me a storm witch sounds… like they can do more.”

“You’d think so, given the fancy moniker we slap on those witches, but no,” Luan said, grinning at Kelsey. “I think it’s more like a quick draw contest. Who takes the other out first. As both are equally deadly. What’s first? The air sucked out of your lungs, or the zap of lightning?” Luan gave her a pat on top of her head. “Good to see you’re being more curious. You would have been way too timid to ask questions like that before.”

Kelsey beamed at the compliment. Admittedly, she liked them enough to want to keep prompting them out of people, and they did respond beautifully to her increasing confidence. They didn’t try to shut her down, to shove her in a box and make her feel bad for daring to speak. She knew that some people would try in the end. That was probably unavoidable. She just hoped she wouldn’t encounter them for as long as possible.

They arrived at the little island, high in the skies at last—so high that they couldn’t see the ground below, for all the clouds that existed, almost appearing like a fluffy carpet (though Kelsey knew that attempting to walk on one wouldn’t end up the way she hoped). Anticipation shivered inside at the prospect of someone existing who could tutor her in these mysterious new powers. Powers that didn’t seem to conjure up when she sat there, concentrating on them, trying to get the same crackling effect she experienced with her first accidental unleashing in the presence of Perran Rus. Something had happened there, but she wasn’t able to replicate it.

Not that she hadn’t made some sneaky attempts in her cabin, out of danger for everyone else.

Perran Rus insisted on coming along with her, since he knew the location of the storm witch. Apparently, they’d met as kids years ago. A big event bound them together, and Kelsey had only recently learned that the big event was to do with the fall of Serpent Isle some decades before.

She never knew anything about it. Such a monumental event to happen, and she’d gone her whole life ignorant of it. Wrapped up warm, as temperatures got colder than Kelsey was entirely comfortable with, she walked arm in arm with Perran Rus up a crooked lane, filled with strange, spindly little trees.

When he’d so casually offered his arm to her, her heart had leaped right up to her throat and refused to return to its normal position. Perran Rus. Holding elbows with her. Like she was some respectable lady. Like he cared about her. All her attention kept drifting back to the way their arms rubbed against one another, and how a deeper part of her wanted the contact to persist for as long as possible.

“Just to warn you, the storm witch can be quite strict, but she’ll definitely teach you what you need to know. Plus, I’ve bribed her, and will personally be bursting through her door if I find out she’s not upheld her end of the deal.”

“I’ll bear that in mind,” Kelsey said with a small smile, staring into Perran’s dark brown eyes. Perhaps they spent a little too long maintaining that eye contact, because he looked away, a furrow appearing between his brows.

“Can I ask you something, Kelsey?”

“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.

“Glad to hear it,” Perran said, giving Kelsey a light brush on her back with his palm. “You’ve come a long way. I can’t help but be a little proud of you.”

“Thanks,” Kelsey replied shyly, not quite able to control the flush creeping over her cheeks. “I wouldn’t be here without your help, though.” She closed her eyes, concentrating on his hand as it now clasped her shoulder. “I didn’t want to admit I needed help, you know.”

When she opened her eyes again, she saw Lissa staring at the two of them with a sharp, beady glint in her eyes.

“You know, Perran,” Lissa said, focusing on the dragon lord. “I’m starting to think you’re not just being nice to Kelsey because she was in need of help.”

“How do you figure that?” Perran said, his grip tightening on Kelsey’s slender shoulder.

“Well, have you two kissed yet?”

Kelsey’s mind completely froze. She was also sure Perran, just behind her, had forgotten how to breathe. “I, uh, erm, we—no, we...”

“We’ve not,” Perran said, withdrawing contact from her. “And I’d like it if you didn’t ask something personal like that again. Kelsey’s got enough to deal with without worrying that I might do something inappropriate.”

“Oh, of course. She’d never have to worry about what you’ll do.” Lissa’s lips spread in a sly smile. “But perhaps you better worry about what she’ll do.”

What Kelsey did in that instant was to burn so red with embarrassment that she wanted to shrink into the floor and vanish forever. She avoided eye contact with Perran, even as something lurched in her stomach that had nothing to do with nerves or shame.

Perran admonished her again, but the damage was done. Kelsey couldn’t get the suggestion out of her head. And when Perran left a few hours later, citing more chasing after their elusive fugitive, Kelsey was distracted for the rest of her training day.

No matter how much she mulled it over, turned the thoughts in her mind, she kept returning to one conclusion.

He hadn’t denied interest in her. He was concerned with putting her in an awkward situation—but the fact that he was concerned in the first place… didn’t that mean he harbored some sort of attraction? And that he just refused to act upon it, because he knew she wasn’t ready?

She didn’t know how to handle the knowledge that he might like her. Enough to kiss her, like Lissa implied. She ran through their interactions in her mind. Always asking after her. Making sure she had all the tools possible to break away from Feylen. Helping her establish a friend network. All those stares she’d caught him in the middle of doing. And when he was drunk upon the ship, how strangely sweet he’d been, how unwilling to let her see him so vulnerable, because he didn’t want her to think the worst of him.

His determination to help her. The close contact. When Feylen had touched Kelsey, it was always heavy and promising pain. When Perran touched her, it was soft, and promised kindness. Affection.

It would be so inappropriate, she told herself. The last thing he’d want is for me to develop affection beyond what we have now. Right?

She couldn’t answer her own question. She also didn’t want to ask Lissa, not trusting herself to like the storm witch’s answers.

The training continued over the next week. She was finally able to progress from manipulation to conjuring her own source of magic. It involved sinking into an almost meditative state to access it safely. Which meant Kelsey might struggle to summon it under pressure.

“Even if everything around you is chaos,” Lissa said, “you should be able to access your magic, whatever happens. All you need to do is picture the calm in yourself long enough for it to happen. So our practice now is to make sure you can learn to access that calm rapidly. So when I say ‘now’, you’ll get your lightning stoking.”

Even with Lissa’s relentless pushing, Kelsey didn’t perform well under pressure. At all. She simply fell to pieces when confronted with stress. And it made her feel worse to know the storm witch was disappointed in her reaction.

“It’s a bad habit, Kel,” she said. “It’ll get you killed.”

Kelsey knew it. But every time she got stressed, her mind decided to roll through every terrible thing she’d suffered under Feylen’s roof. Every bruise, every hurtful word, every attempt to make her feel worthless, stupid, incompetent. Combined with her reflections of Perran Rus, it reduced her to a hot mess.

Two days before the official training ended, Kelsey lay on the couch in total darkness. Lissa snored softly from the corner, ensuring that Kelsey couldn’t sleep at all. The older woman had an almost grunting snort which startled her at random intervals. She also hated how dark it became, because Lissa preferred there to be no lights at all for her to sleep, since dawn’s light tended to wake her from her otherwise dead faint. Kelsey quivered under four layers of blankets, her ears picking out all kinds of sounds, and she longed to be back in a bed, and not out here in the middle of nowhere, on a lonely island barely inhabited by fifty people. The storm witch traded her lightning for food and other wares, and she was getting a hefty haul from Perran for training Kelsey. But for all their living together, they still felt like complete strangers to one another at times.

Even Luan showed more friendliness than Lissa, and that was saying something.

A low, keening moan sent jolts of anxiety down Kelsey’s spine. Just the wind. Just the wind, making horrible, blood-chilling noises that made her hunch up into herself under the sheets. Sure, she might be capable of summoning lightning, but that didn’t stop her feeling any more vulnerable than before. The wind continued its low, unsettling moans, trapped in the narrow spaces of trees and leaves.

She almost leaped out of the sofa when the window behind her creaked. Her attention danced to it, but she couldn’t really see anything. When another creak came, Kelsey, paranoia getting the best of her, slid off the sofa, taking some blankets with her, and fumbled her way to the side of the room as quietly as possible. In the kitchen area, she crouched behind the table, just as another sound joined the creaking.

Thump.

Someone was in the room with them. Someone who had crawled in through the back window. Her eyes strained in the darkness. She knew she should say something, announce something, but no words came out. She made no move to warn Lissa, too frozen inside and out by fear.

Closing her eyes, she attempted to calm herself, to reach into that place where her magic resided. To try and ignore the fact that her heart was pounding in her neck, ears, cheeks.

Finally, Kelsey summoned lightning, letting it course through her veins, lighting up the pipes around them in sudden yellow. Revealed out of the darkness was Lissa, still asleep—and an inky, misshapen figure reaching claws towards her, as black as night.

“Lissa! LISSA!” Kelsey’s hand shook, but she tried to focus again, to aim at that horrific creature, on all fours like a dog. Lissa’s eyes snapped open, and she registered the thing in front of her.

“Skies!” Lissa flung out a hand, blue electricity streaming from it, and the creature shuddered and jerked, before dissipating into a pile of ashes.

Kelsey dashed to the open window, slamming it shut, and Lissa stumbled out of bed, her eyes wide.

“W-what was that?” Kelsey said, cautiously approaching the black pile of ash on the ground. She’d never seen anything like it.

“A kill order,” Lissa said between clenched teeth. “It’s a coal-demon.”

“Demon?” Kelsey whispered, trying to register the word. “You mean, like from the underland?”

“More like a contract put out on me by someone who clearly wants me dead,” Lissa said, now grabbing a bottle of alcohol from her cupboard. She didn’t bother pouring it into a glass, and glugged straight from the top. “Clearly they didn’t know you were here, though. Otherwise that attack would have succeeded.” The bottle she held shook violently.

“Who would want to kill you out here?” Kelsey asked, confused, nervously glancing towards the window, in case another one of those monsters appeared.

“Oh, I know who,” Lissa said with a snarl, looking truly terrifying with the way her face contorted to do so. “The Conclave of Zamorka. Picking off the witches who won’t join them.” She took another long swig from the black bottle. “Might’ve refused an offer less than a month before accepting you here.”

Kelsey started at the name. She knew Perran was chasing a current fugitive belonging to this exact group.

“And… you didn’t think to mention this?” Kelsey stared at the woman, incredulous. She didn’t really know a whole lot about the law side of things, but she suspected that Perran Rus would have highly appreciated being told about this.

Though he hadn’t actually mentioned to the storm witch who he was chasing. Just “a fugitive”.

“I’m not sure if it’s my place to say, Lissa, but I think if you know anything about the person who tried to kill you—you should tell Perran. He’s on the lookout for exactly a Conclave fugitive.”

Lissa gaped at her, before her expression dropped into a scowl. “Of course he is. Would it have killed him to mention something like this before?” Now, apparently remembering her manners, she grabbed a glass, a new bottle of alcohol, and poured some out for Kelsey. When Kelsey attempted to refuse the drink, Lissa gave her such a terrifying glare that she felt no choice but to comply.

The alcohol burned her throat and made her cough, but she swallowed it with nothing more than a slight whimper. “I really don’t like this stuff.”

“You’ll get used to it,” Lissa said. “It’ll steady your nerves, anyway. Steadies mine every time. And it does get lonely out here for a storm witch...” She trailed off into a long silence, broken only by the sound of liquid swishing and shuffling feet.

“Will you be attacked again?” Kelsey asked, dreading to know the answer. `

“Most likely. But there is some good news in all this,” Lissa replied with a grim smile.

“And what news is that?”

The raven-haired woman sneered. “At least we know that Perran’s fugitive is on this island. Because you need to be close by to summon something like that.”

Chapter Six – Perran

He’d visited every single cursing island so far. The only trouble was, people could move. For all he knew, he’d move to one island, and his target just hopped onto the one behind him.

Even with all his contacts, his resources, with Luan and his crew helping, all they found was that the fugitive was in the area. But clearly lying low. It didn’t help he had a deadline to report by.

Well, at least something good was happening out of it. Kelsey was getting her training sorted, even though he was failing his case. Even flying by dragon form everywhere didn’t help him to keep ahead.

Now he sailed back to Lissa’s island, hoping the ridiculous sum of money he’d forwarded to her would be worth it. Thinking about greeting Kelsey cheered him up, anyway. Would be nice to see her face after this long, tiring mess. He’d considered bringing her back a gift from the other islands, but refrained at the last moment, because he didn’t want to put any additional pressure on Kelsey. She became so stiff when Lissa had casually mentioned the kissing part. He’d had some time to process those words himself now, and he realized he wouldn’t exactly be opposed to some kissing.

But only if she consented. There was something about watching her develop from a shy, timid little thing to someone capable of putting her own opinion forward, capable of smiling, and discovering more and more about herself. Skies, she’d even dared to disagree with him, and he understood just how much of a big deal that was. People in Kelsey’s situation rarely had anything good to say about themselves. They always thought they were at fault.

That was always the thing that grated most.

Still, he probably had a long way to go regarding Kelsey. He just needed to keep teasing her out of that shell, to make sure she grew and grew… until she left him, or… something else.

The island peeped into sight. He watched Vash and Rukia deep in conversation, and Evelyn sitting calmly beside them, obviously the one pushing forward the vessel at the moment. Such a talented pair of air witches. They always needed to take a lot of anchor breaks with Luan, but both of them were almost tireless in energy.

Of course… Luan had a rather different skill set in her air magic.

Sighing, he walked into the belly of the Elegant, stalking into one of the holding cabins, where Luan was currently in the process of suffocating someone. The man lay on the floor, gasping for air that wouldn’t come, as Luan placed him in a temporary vacuum. Before the vacuum caused permanent damage, she always returned the air. Her expression was dark, full of hatred. She crouched in front of their victim, who clawed at his throat, taking huge gulps of air, his eyes bulging as he stared at her.

“I can do this all day. All night. And maybe I’ll keep it up a second longer, so you feel your tongue boiling and the last of the oxygen being used in your blood…”

“No, no, curse you, whore!” the man spat, though his teeth chattered in terror. “I already told you, I don’t know anything! You’re torturing me for no reason!”

“Lies,” Luan said, with a voice as cold as ice. “We know exactly what you’ve done, Chalkley. We know you’re the kind of person who has a finger in everyone’s pie…”

“Still going to be a while?” Perran asked sympathetically. Luan nodded, and Perran exaggerated a sigh. “I’ll get something from the galley kitchen for you. And then I’ll be off to pick up Kelsey.”

“Are we really going to give up the mission, boss?” Luan asked, before dumping Chalkley in another air vacuum. “You’ll want to expel the air in you, or your lungs will explode,” Luan advised him, and a panicked, hissing breath was her response.

“I’ll give it another few days. The precinct didn’t provide funds for a longer trip, so I’ll tap into my own funds.”

“Alright,” Luan said, still fixed on Chalkley, who was now going purple in the face. Perran didn’t feel any pity for him—the man had been responsible for a lot of women’s deaths, in far more horrific fashion than what Luan did to him. Both thought it rather fitting for a woman to exact punishment from him. Perran went and grabbed some food for Luan, then left her to it. One way or another, they’d extract the information from Chalkley’s wasted body, so he’d give away all his underworld contacts. And with any luck, maybe some Conclave members would show up on his long list of contacts.

It was something. Perran stepped off the ship after informing his crew of his intentions, and morphed into dragon form, his gray body winding sinuously through the air, huge wings catching a gentle breeze, allowing a sedate glide when he locked them. It felt good to drift as a dragon—he’d been doing that often on the ship, sometimes even just curling up on the deck, since his skin itched when he went for too long without shifting.

Maybe he could turn up at Lissa’s doorstep in this form, see how his friend-turned-acquaintance would react. She never liked dragons. Always found them scary. Even as a child. Understandable. He’d probably be uneasy facing the mouth end of a dragon as well. His orb-like eyes took in the blue canvas of dawn above, the few wafts of clouds in the atmosphere, and the spindly, jagged shape of the little, nameless island, where people lived in crudely constructed buildings, using the dark lumber wood that covered most of the space there. The air tasted of faint traces of smoke, usually from wood-burning stoves and fires, and he did a few lazy loops over the tops of the trees before alighting a few minutes later in front of Lissa’s hovel. He reluctantly morphed back into human form, deciding that scaring Kelsey wasn’t quite on the list of things he wanted to do to her, and rapped smartly upon the door. Maybe he’d be waking them up, but he didn’t want to keep Kelsey there any longer than the stated contract. In case Lissa sought to extort it further.

No answer from his knocks. He waited for ten seconds, rapped again, louder, more insistent, rocking on the heels of his boots. He examined the cufflinks in his black jacket, checked his tie was still in place, wondered if he was perhaps overdressed for the occasion… but silence reigned from inside.

“Hello?” he called, now trying to peer through the windows. His heart dropped somewhere to his stomach when he squinted through the bottom part of the front window and saw an empty home.

Maybe they’re just out for an early morning walk. No signs of disturbance. He calmed himself down, rationalizing what he saw. Hoping that there really was nothing suspicious about this. Plus, they were storm witches. True, one was a budding storm witch, but they should be able to handle themselves.

Should he wait? He considered, then went off, determined to search for tracks on the pathway, in the dirt that he missed before.

Chapter Seven – Kelsey

“How do you know where to go?” Kelsey whispered. She followed after Lissa as best as able, but kept getting her feet snagged in roots, in unexpected soft, muddy areas, as Lissa trudged through the dark foliage.

“There’s only one spot it could have originated from,” came Lissa’s reply. “Since something like that requires a ritual, and we don’t really have a whole lot of consecrated areas on this island. Just a small shrine some people left to what they believe is the spirit of the island, asking for its favor to chop wood, that sort of thing.”

The deeper they got into the island’s territory, the more and more anxious Kelsey became. She kept seeking to calm herself, but the way the trees almost seemed to hug her, branches clawing across her clothes, leaves brushing her face… she hated it. She much preferred the city, where you didn’t need to worry about nature and the dangers it contained. She heard birdsong, and harsh caws, and the rustling of small animals. She didn’t think there would be any large predators on a small island like this, but then again, she didn’t exactly know island ecology in the first place, or the types of animals that existed, given that all she’d seen in her life were some birds, cats, dogs, and rodents. Not including insects.

She saw a many-legged insect on a tree that made her squeak in fright. How was it possible for something to have that many limbs?

“I can hear you wheezing in fear,” Lissa said dryly, navigating the uneven terrain with ease. “There’s nothing that will hurt you in these parts.”

“Except the coal-demon creature that was sent to kill you?”

“That, and people, I suppose. The neighbors are okay, though. We have about five air witches with their partners, living the quiet life. Air witches tend to be the most common out here because they can easily get around the islands and ferry little tugboats around if we want to visit friends.”

As much as Kelsey appreciated Lissa giving her more information about the place, she did wish Lissa had done it earlier. The woman had been too focused on the training, and reluctant to engage in much small talk. Kelsey had tried to pry into Lissa’s life as well, how she knew Perran, but the only thing she really understood was that they were both children on Serpent Isle. They were linked by that long-ago event, but ever since then, had drifted apart. Something caused this woman to live alone on a faraway island, with a damaged face.

Maybe she hid from society? Maybe… maybe she was abused? Kelsey didn’t know, but the woman had some solid walls up around her persona. She wasn’t sure if she’d ever get to know Lissa. Though last night, Lissa might not have ever had the chance to speak again…

“Almost there,” Lissa said, panting a little from exertion. She drew up her long, ankle-length dress to hop over a tree root before pointing to something. When Kelsey peered over Lissa’s shoulder, she saw a strange, mossy stone with patterns etched upon it, and what looked like a tiny, ivy-covered entrance to a cave that couldn’t have been much bigger than Lissa’s hut. It was surrounded by trees, some of them cut to stumps to create more space around the shrine. The grasses there were all downtrodden, and some gravel had been scattered along the narrow, winding pathway there, which crunched underfoot.

The heady scent of pine and something overripe, sweet to the point of going sour, permeated the clearing, and Kelsey’s every breath sounded too loud in her ears. Her eyes kept darting around for those strange black beasts but found nothing. “Do you think the person who did it is in there?” she whispered, pointing at the shrine.

“They’d have to be quite slow of wit if they were. But maybe we’ll find some evidence of what they were up to.” Lissa turned, glaring at Kelsey with her coal-black eyes. “You make sure you’re in touch with your magic. There could be something dangerous lurking in wait.”

Kelsey gulped visibly, and something shivered in her stomach. Every muscle in her tensed, and she wondered whether they should be doing this at all. “Should we… shouldn’t we maybe get reinforcements?”

“Depending on if I was the only witch targeted,” Lissa said grimly. “I’m planning to check the air witches’ houses later. I have a bad feeling about this.”

Creeping closer, Kelsey felt Lissa draw upon her magic until the air around her crackled, infusing her entire body, so that a single touch, or even just coming within two or so meters of the storm witch, would zap the offender. Unless it was Kelsey, who could redirect the energy.

Lissa at first prowled around the shrine, and Kelsey stood dumbly in front of it at her orders, waiting for something to emerge. She couldn’t quite see past all the ivy vines there and kept imagining one of the beasts loitering just because, ready to pounce and kill—which raised her stress levels and snuffed out the little magic she had been able to accumulate.

What a great and mighty storm witch I am, Kelsey thought in frustration. What’s the point in having this kind of power if I can never use it properly?

Although she certainly had progressed from not realizing she had any at all. And, technically, she did save Lissa. So, she wasn’t as useless as she thought. Not that it was much of an encouraging viewpoint at this time.

“There’s stains on the back of the boulder,” Lissa said in faint disgust. “Looks like blood, and an oily, green substance, which…” She fell silent. When she didn’t answer for a moment, Kelsey’s worry increased.

“Lissa?”

The storm witch moved away from the stone, her face pale, her eyes distant, her magic extinguished. Wordlessly, ignoring Kelsey’s questions, she moved to the vine-draped entrance of the cave and went straight in, showing no caution at all.

Not willing to stand there and do nothing, Kelsey edged through the vines as well, letting some electricity snake up her right arm. She had little time to feel pride in doing so, as the light from her arm revealed a cave dripping with a sickly, greenish tint, like the veins of a poisoned heart. A dog lay on a stone slab with a sword rammed through its body—it resembled the shape of the coal-demon that had attacked them the night before. An overwhelming, creeping sensation burned through Kelsey. She looked to see a green droplet on the top of her hand, and felt something moving through her, thirsting—grasping for magic.

This is…

Throwing all caution to the winds, Kelsey lunged inside and seized Lissa by the shoulders, hauling the mute storm witch out. She had to push the witch hard, and only when they had cleared a reasonable distance away from the shrine did light return to the storm witch’s eyes.

“It’s the Creeping Rot,” Lissa whispered, eyes wide and horror-struck.

Exactly what Kelsey had suspected and feared.

Which meant the both of them were now infected, the disease raking through their insides, infecting, killing them as they spoke.

“If it’s there...” Lissa said, now starting to look dizzy, unfocused, “then this island doesn’t have long left.” She winced. “And we still haven’t found the person responsible for this...”

Kelsey continued walking forward, until at the edge of the clearing, she collapsed, Lissa falling down with her. Neither of them moved. Pain burned Kelsey’s limbs, but thankfully, she was spared from enduring it for long. Unconsciousness rushed to meet her.

Chapter Eight – Perran

The good thing about being a dragon was the sense of smell the form offered. He abandoned his tracking efforts quite soon, simply because he was bad at it, even for a cop, and shifted into his dragon form to enhance his olfactory intake. Lissa and Kelsey’s scents didn’t seem old to his nostrils—perhaps two hours, at most. He followed on the ground, shifting in and out depending on whether he could make it through the overgrowth or not.

The center of the island. There was another scent he didn’t recognize, though it was older than the two women, and tasted faintly of charcoal. He broke quite a few twigs in his shuffle to the island’s center, where he knew a shrine to be. Almost all the outer islands had them, and islanders held themselves to a different religion than others.

An awful, noxious scent dug into his nose, coated his throat. He wanted to gag. Fear picked up his heart rate. That scent was familiar. That scent was—

No! He almost stepped on the two women underneath his claws. He tilted his head so his eye could take them in, and a growl left his throat. Green veins crept along their skins, faces pallid, unconscious and sweaty from the fight warring in their bodies. The stench came from the tiny cave within the island’s heart, but he didn’t need to check to know exactly what was in there.

Creeping Rot! Desperate, he bundled the two limp women together, so he could scoop them securely in his talons. Once there, he felt the taint of magic entering his body—but dragons could resist for lengthy periods. He could make it back. Flapping from a standstill point, his wings tore apart branches, foliage, as he lifted into the air, lurching for a moment, before speeding off to the Elegant.

The sight of them both under the veil of creeping death continued to stir a sickening, sloshing wave in his stomach, and he had to keep checking his claws, making sure he still gripped them firmly, because of the numb coldness spreading from the magic.

Making it to the Elegant within a few moments, wings aching from the speed of his flight, he had to circle the deck a few times before they cleared enough space for him to land. Puffing, he laid the women down on the deck and transformed, sending panicked orders for all their witches to stay away from them, and to get Alex.

“They’ve been infected, so have I—just—help!” Perran glared at Evelyn and Rukia, who had headed over to see the damage, before freezing. Vash, Meridas’ sister, quickly went to seize Rukia by the hand, dragging the woman away. Haut dashed downstairs—apparently Alex was busy with Luan over something—and emerged back up with her a few moments later.

“Seriously,” Alex said as Perran slumped to his knees, starting to feel dizzy, “when are you going to stop touching the bad stuff?”

A strange, creaking groan drew Perran’s attention to the island below their ship. They were anchored in the air, and all of the people on deck still conscious watched as the island rolled onto its side, with things falling off. It happened fast, like waves lurching a boat on rough seas, before spinning rapidly downwards.

Crashing thousands of feet below.

Alex, slightly white-faced, looked into Perran’s eyes. “Talk about having a close call…”

Perran stared numbly at the spot where the island once was. “I came here early. I… if I didn’t…” The thought sent a numbness inside. Fifty or so people on that island now dead. Most likely due to the person he was chasing, and still hadn’t found. “We should have brought the cure.”

“We don’t have that much of it,” Alex said, now touching Lissa, beginning her war to defeat the disease. “We want to save it for the most serious cases. Since visiting the place where we get the cure is… dangerous. And the Zamorkans don’t fully trust us yet.”

“Funny, because I don’t particularly trust them either.” Perran watched blearily as Alex strained the disease out of Lissa. A part of him wanted her to start with Kelsey, but he kept himself silent, not wanting to appear ungrateful, like he was somehow more desperate for Kelsey to survive…

A non-magical human dragged Lissa away from the others as the disease was cleared, and waited for Kelsey to be cured. Alex’s face contorted in pain as she pulled it out. “I’m not sure I have the strength for three in a row… this is…” Wincing, she yanked the green out, tugged from Kelsey like tiny snakes wrapped around the skin. A horrible sight, but not nearly as horrible as the one of her near death. With Kelsey dragged away, still unconscious, Alex turned to Perran with an unnatural sheen of sweat on her forehead.

“Maybe you shouldn’t push it,” Meridas advised, clearly not wanting to witness his partner go through more pain. Alex, however, scowled at him, before rather stubbornly placing her hands on Perran’s, leeching the darkness out of him.

“I thought you said you weren’t sure you could do this,” Perran whispered.

Alex gave a thin smile in response. “Yeah, well, I can’t risk you infecting anyone else. It’ll give me even more work to do. Luckily… it’s not as deep in you yet as the witches.” She grimaced and tugged out thin, thread-like strands of green from his hands. Such a weird sensation, like something cloying and cool being sucked out of his cells, leaving them warm and healthy again. By the time she had finished, she could barely sit up straight, and allowed Meridas to carry her in his arms, crooning to her and admonishing her for using too much power.

When he felt secure enough to stand and not topple over instantly, he headed straight for Kelsey, grasping her frame in his arms and carrying her to the cabin. She took light, peaceful breaths, and her head lolled against the front of his shoulder. He placed a kiss on her forehead before tucking her more comfortably into bed. Afterwards, he headed to Lissa, who had woken up and looked incredibly pissed off with herself.

“What happened, Lissa?”

“Attacked,” she grunted, accepting a bottle of alcohol from Vash. Lissa wore her favorite bear fur robes, which bulked out her frame more so she looked like she had some meat, rather than the stick insect Perran remembered that lay beneath. “Coal-demon.”

Alex frowned, confused. Rukia, Evelyn, and Luan gaped in sudden horror—the same horror Perran felt.

“A coal-demon? Who in the underland would be summoning something like that?” Luan scowled, folding her arms even as Evelyn let out a snort.

“A Zamorkan, of course. Specifically, the one you’re chasing, right?” She looked pointedly at Perran.

“Unless someone can magically turn up with the fugitive right now, we need to go back. We’ve run out of police funds, and there’s only so much I can invest before I end up being unable to pay taxes. I’m not as rich as some people,” Perran said with one eyebrow raised at Meridas.

“I said I’d help,” the shifter replied coolly. “I just don’t think we’re going to get the results you want to get.”

“Did you see anyone leave?” Lissa hissed. “The attacker was definitely on the island last night. It’s possible you might have encountered their skyship.”

“No. We saw nothing.” Perran sighed. “They could be miles away by now.”

“Just be careful,” Lissa advised. “I don’t think this person or persons have finished, yet. They’re experimenting. We’ve not seen the last of the Creeping Rot.”

“I know we haven’t,” Perran said. “But right now… I need to rest. We head back. Results or not, we can’t afford to waste any more time.”

Evelyn nodded before heading back to the alcove, activating her wind magic and propelling them away. Perran, instead of going into his quarters and resting, headed straight to Kelsey.

He didn’t intend to leave her side. Maybe it was a little early as well, but he wanted Kelsey to know that he cared for her. More than he wanted to admit, really. He didn’t know why, and neither could he find words to describe his feelings. But for one brief moment, when he’d thought she was dead…

Everything had turned cold. Happiness he’d been building up threatened to shatter itself into pieces. The easy manner he possessed around her was from more than a desire to maintain respect. Even him pushing her, wanting her to just rise out of the misery she’d once been in—he was desperate to see her succeed. To prove what so many other woman had not.  And it would break his heart to see her revert, to have all her efforts end in death.

Sitting by Kelsey’s side on a hard, rickety, wooden chair, he grabbed a book to read, How to Maintain Your Ship, and absently flicked through the manual, sneaking glances at her all the while.

Chapter Nine – Kelsey

Waking up, Kelsey felt a huge sense of relief that she wasn’t lying in dirt, with poison surging through her.

Instead, she saw Perran seated stiffly next to her, a book slipping through his hands. He wore oddly formal clothes for such a mundane event—not that she was complaining or anything.

Was he the one who found me? Us? She studied his features for a few peaceful, uninterrupted moments. She liked his thin nose, his gentle jawline, and the lightly curving ears. His dark hair had several layers, helping to give it volume, and his hands seemed big and delicate, somehow.

What about Lissa? She propped herself upright, and the rustling sound alerted Perran. He jerked awake, the book thudding onto the wooden floor. “Hey,” she said.

“Hey,” he replied, face breaking out into a smile. “How are you feeling?”

“Like I’m not infected with the Creeping Rot,” Kelsey said, grinning. “Is Lissa okay? Is she here, too, on the Elegant?” She glanced around, though she couldn’t quite see the view through the port window properly.

“Lissa’s fine. I found the two of you collapsed nearby that shrine. I… took you back, and Alex did the honors of drawing the poison from your magic.”

“Thanks for saving me,” Kelsey said, crawling out of the bed. “I need to thank Alex, too. Where is she?”

“Speaking to Lissa,” Perran said. His eyes were soft, full of concern. The dim light of the cabin made her focus harder on his face, tracing the contours of his jaw, his nose. She still hadn’t quite processed all her thoughts about him. Nor did she really know if he liked her.

Then again, he did just claim to have found her, which meant he might have been frantically searching once he realized they weren’t at the hut. And he’d sat in a chair next to her for who knew how long, just to make sure she didn’t wake up alone. Now he stared at her with such tenderness that certainty rose inside her. He liked her, probably far more than he was willing to admit, and a lot more than she wanted to. For all her attempts to call him Perran, her mind kept slipping to refer to him as Master Rus instead.

Perran filled her in on the status of the island she had stayed on—namely that it was lost to the world. Fallen some hours before. “No one had any idea how close it was to falling,” Perran said. “It must have already been infected when we landed a month before to drop you off.”

“Skies,” Kelsey whispered. “You mean we could have died at any point during my training?”

Perran looked deeply uncomfortably as he nodded. “You could have.” He clasped his hands together. “I was careless. I should have thoroughly investigated the island. I thought… since it’s the furthest one away from the main cluster points, you’d be safe…” His lips twitched. “I’ll be surprised if I don’t get fired for incompetence.”

“It’s not your fault,” Kelsey said, thinking that for all the time she’d been there, at least it had been peaceful—right up until the moment that unnatural beast had crawled in through the window and attempted to assassinate Lissa. Just like how it had been used to kill the other witches on the island. But what purpose did it serve the killer to target people on remote islands who didn’t want anything to do with normal society?

It didn’t make sense. Seeing Perran still upset, she hastened to comfort him. “You can’t always prepare for every mistake. At least we’re alive, so that’s one worry off your mind. Though… Lissa lost her home, didn’t she?” Twice, Kelsey thought with a small pang.

“There will be others to inhabit. I’m just glad you both are safe.” He held her hand, and she accepted the gesture with a little smile. She could probably get used to that. Already, her mind began playing through possibilities. Such as being bold. Saying the things she wanted to say and not feeling terrified to do so.

Those almost adoring features on him made her consider Lissa’s suggestion again. When they would kiss. If they would kiss.

Telling him that she wouldn’t exactly mind if he wanted to kiss her. Though she didn’t know how to kiss. That thought froze her up slightly, because she didn’t want to embarrass herself or him. But then again, how exactly would she learn to kiss effectively if she never kissed at all?

“It made me think that, you know… how hard it is to say things, sometimes?” Kelsey said, waiting for him to nod. He rubbed the top of her hand gently as he did so. “It feels like if I spend too long worrying about what to say, there might come a day when I’ll never be able to say anything at all. Because the person I want to speak to is gone, or I am.”

“I know what you mean.” His eyes went from soft to distant. “We always think we have more time. We think we have years and years ahead of us. But life can end at any moment. Any time.” He held her hand tighter and brushed her knuckles with his cool lips. “We never realize how much time we have until it’s gone.”

His words stirred something raw inside her. Regrets that she didn’t want to process. Like all the times she could have done something, said something. Made her choice to run, to love…

Each and every moment had slipped away from her, somehow. Even her own powers—she never had the opportunity to explore them before. Or realize even that she had them to try out.

She’d missed out on a huge chunk of her life that way. “I was curious, by the way, how you and Lissa were as friends. Before I suppose you separated, and she came to live instead on some lonely island too far away for casual contact.”

“We used to be best friends,” he said, after considering how to reply. He didn’t let go of her hand, and she wasn’t inclined to make him. “She had the accident with her magic when the ship carrying us was taken away, and she wanted to go back and save her pet kitten, which had been left behind. She… she ended up killing her own brother with the loss of control of her powers and damaged her face. And her parents couldn’t look at her without seeing the person who killed their precious son. So she came to live with my family, and we got an elderly storm witch to come and teach her control.

“She helped us rake in more money for a while and tried to confess her love for me.” His mouth twisted uncomfortably, and Kelsey cringed, instantly picking up on why. “But… I didn’t love her that way. And then I lost my sister to an abuser, and she found my habits of picking up strays… bad. She left in the end. We didn’t speak to each other for years. But we were gradually getting back into contact for the past two years. Both of us getting older, both of us realizing that whatever had happened, we used to be best friends at one point.”

“At least you reconciled.” Kelsey’s mood dropped, thinking of Lissa. Living alone. “I wonder if she found anyone else?”

“I don’t know. She never said. And I never thought to ask.” He gave a half-shrug, uncomfortable.

“Well, I hope she’ll find some happiness.” Kelsey closed her eyes for a moment. “Thanks for telling me this. Was she… friends with your sister?”

She opened her eyes to see him nod mutely. She also knew she wouldn’t get much more out of him on the matter. Seemed both Luan and Lissa knew something more of Perran’s past than Kelsey fully comprehended. Though she wasn’t sure if she’d ever comprehend the way he did. She’d never lost anyone. Yet.

Now, both their eyes rested on their still-clasped hands. His eyebrows arched upwards. “You can let go any time. I’m not stopping you from doing it.”

Her heartbeat nearly doubled its pace, and her fingers twitched in his, but she didn’t let go. Her throat constricted horribly before she managed to say, “What if I don’t want to let… go?”

A grin joined the raised eyebrows. “Is that so?”

She nodded, hardly daring to believe what she’d just said.

If she thought speaking her mind was difficult, it was nothing compared to admitting she might have feelings to someone she liked. Was it too soon?

Skies, she hoped not. “I’m not sure if you… like me,” she said, her left knee now experiencing the sensation of turning to liquid, as she could barely stand on it without shaking. “I mean, I’m not great at reading things, and maybe what I see isn’t what I think I’m seeing…”

He let her babble on incessantly, until he said, “You’re not mistaking what you think there is between us. It’s been… great to see how much you’ve improved. An honor, even.” He brought his other hand to her. “But regardless of how I’m feeling, how I want to watch you grow into your new self, to share the journey with you… I don’t want you to feel any pressure. I never helped you just so I could get into a relationship.”

“I know that.” Kelsey beamed. “But I’m glad it turned out this way all the same. I want to find out more about myself. These powers. And to… maybe see how things might go with you. I… um… have to warn you.” Her cheeks flushed. “I have very little experience in romance.”

Perran’s eyes twinkled at this. “Perhaps I can help.” He leaned tantalizingly close. “You’ve come a long way,” Perran whispered in her ear, sending a delicious, warm shiver through Kelsey, making her want to melt into his arms. “But remember this. You should never feel like you don’t deserve anything.” His lips were so close. She imagined them touching her skin. Excitement welled up, thinking of what they might do together. If he took that extra step.

If she did. She’d never been one for bold moves. People had stamped those tendencies out of her, brutally, leaving her too timid and passive to do anything.

Right now, with a sudden blaze of fury, she realized she hated being that person. Someone others saw and immediately took advantage of. Someone who stood on the precipice, always wanting,  never taking. Because somehow, she’d convinced herself it wasn’t her right to do so.

Right now, Perran effectively encouraged her. She might not be the smartest person around, but she knew he was waiting for her to act now, not him.

The choice was all hers.

Still riding that burst of anger, she nudged her head against Perran, causing him to move and present the perfect angle for them to touch lips together. He certainly didn’t expect her to kiss him so hard, so desperately, and though he engaged in the contact with pleasure, with eagerness, the roaring sensations inside Kelsey ended too soon. He pulled away from her, breathless, looking slightly dazed. “What was that, Kelsey?”

“I just—” I’m kissing you. That shouldn’t be hard to understand. She tried to reach for his lips again, but he stopped her by placing one long finger upon her lips.

“No need to rush it. You don’t need to kiss me like you’re drowning.”

She froze with the touch of his finger still upon her, breathing harder than she normally did, both excitement and confusion quivering within. “Did I hurt you?”

“No! No,” he said, smiling. “But I’m thinking you haven’t had much experience with kissing, have you?”

And now here came the shame, ready to ride over her previous fire. “I… no...”

“It’s okay. Really. I’m just saying you’ll need a lot of practice if you’re planning to do that again.” He wore a slight smirk on his features, and Kelsey blinked rapidly at him. What?

“Do you… plan to let me practice?” She couldn’t gauge his mood, or decide whether she was embarrassed or eager. Another part of her screamed to withdraw and hide before she somehow messed up the situation more, but she kept herself firmly rooted.

“Why, yes… it can be another part of your ongoing education,” Perran said, brushing his stubbled cheek against hers. He removed his finger at last. “But only if you’re absolutely sure you want this.”

“Yes,” she said. He moved back to examine her from a different angle, and she could have sworn she saw pride in his features.

“Good. Always know what you want.” He leaned forward, slower than her rush, prompting a similar motion from her. Their lips pressed against one another with a quiet warmth. His lips opened slightly, and he closed his eyes. Kelsey, feeling incredibly awkward leaving her own eyes open, copied the gesture. It felt much more natural, much easier to focus on the activity happening with their mouths. Much easier to… to sink into his touch, to feel like every part of her was melting, seeking to absorb him into her.

“Just follow my movements,” he said in a gasp, pausing the kissing long enough to say so. “Don’t worry about kissing all by yourself. Just… respond to what I do.”

“ ‘Kay,” she managed to answer in a strangled whisper, before he moved his lips, always switching position between her top and bottom lip. His hands clasped around her back, gradually sliding up so that his fingers splayed over her cheeks, and the tips pressed into the skin just past her ears. The realization of what he was doing sent a huge kick of arousal into her stomach, and when she surfaced for air between kisses, her breathing was every bit as heavy as his.

Skies, she could get used to this. You didn’t have to love to kiss like this, did you? It was something those in love did. The thought of potentially being in love with him, or falling for him, made her feel vulnerable. Love made people vulnerable. Even false love did.

But, vulnerable or not, she didn’t want to stop drowning in his kisses.

When his left hand slid from her cheek to trail down to the hem of her shirt, another crazy jolt went through her stomach. So much feeling into such a simple act. She wanted to explore further. To turn it from kisses to something else.

A sharp rap at the door shocked her back into clear, sudden thought, and she leaped away from Perran, in time for him to hastily neaten his jacket and hair. “Yes?” he croaked, before clearing his voice. “Come in.”

The door opened to Alex. “Hey, I’m just—” She paused. “Am I interrupting something?”

“No,” squeaked Kelsey, eyes wide. “Nothing. Nothing at all. We were doing nothing. Just talking.”

“It’s all right,” Perran said, a strained smile coating his lips. “What did you want?”

Alex made a soft click noise with her tongue. “Lissa wants some help. There’s a storm coming up—a bad one, she says.”

“I can’t sense one,” Kelsey said, puzzled. One of the skills she’d developed was tasting storm energy in the air, and nothing told her otherwise.

“You’ll certainly see one,” Alex said. “Come on.”

Perran briefly touched Kelsey’s hand as she scrambled away from him. “I need to visit the bathroom first.”

* * *

Up on deck, she saw that Alex was right. Though the storm wasn’t sensed, it certainly could be seen. “Is that a normal storm?” Kelsey staggered to Lissa’s side, and it happened to be the side that permanently drooped.

“Looks like one of those wildstorms you find on Zamorka,” Alex said coolly, joining them. “I was there. The wind witches can barely manage them.”

“Lucky for them this time,” Lissa said with a growl, “we have two storm witches on the scene.”

“They’re not normal storms. There’s something wrong with them,” Alex said, before ducking off with the rest of those who couldn’t contribute against the storm. Luan, Evelyn, and Rukia stood grim in their alcove, attempting to work protective winds over the Elegant.

“What’s my role?” Kelsey asked, eyeing the storm with apprehension. It rolled towards them like a pursuer, as if it were exclusively targeting their ship alone.

“Absorption. Making sure the worst of the storm’s energies don’t hit us. And suck so much energy out of it that we dissipate it.”

“Wait, we can do that?”

“Of course. We can get rid of storms. Most people think they can just get away with lightning rods and air witches. They forget just how valuable a storm witch is.” Lissa rubbed her hands, preparing, and Kelsey shivered, not really seeing how the two of them could handle that monstrous storm. The skies darkened around them. Winds picked up speed. Flashes of yellow and blue and green peeped through—colors Kelsey wasn’t used to witnessing in a storm. The energy felt crazed, chaotic.

“This is bad!” Evelyn screeched from the alcove, before the winds drowned out her voice completely. “We’re thousands of feet up! We can’t take shelter even if we push for it! So you two better be up to snuff!”

“Air witches,” Lissa said with a contemptuous glance at Evelyn. “Always so arrogant.” The first of the lightning flashed, and Lissa raised her hands, redirecting it to strike her in a blaze of brilliance.

“Come on, Kelsey! Draw upon it!”

Delving into the chaos of this storm almost swept Kelsey off her feet magically. Even touching it sent a wildness inside her, a mounting hysteria that made her want to laugh and cry. Bolt after flickering bolt slammed into her, the lights dancing behind her closed eyelids. When Kelsey touched on a strange, balled-up sensation within the storm with her mind, like a swirling vortex, she tugged at it. Light exploded as thousands of tendrils of lightning jolted into Kelsey at once, making her stagger backwards, bursting with electricity, bracing against the stream of power.

“That’s it!” Lissa screamed her approval, joining Kelsey, splitting up the channeled lightning between them. Rain slashed Kelsey’s face, and the winds that broke through the air witch’s protection caressed her static-risen hair. Gasping from the power, Kelsey redirected the stream downwards, wasting the energy, letting it disappear into nothingness. No way could she contain so much power without it exploding within her. The two witches continued pulling in lightning, each time feeling as if Kelsey was breaking open a dam, letting lightning surge out the gap.

I’m actually doing this, she thought, her lips opening, laughing wildly, insanely, juiced up on storm energy. The ship lurched, and Lissa and Kelsey, unable to control themselves, were flung off the edge of the ship. By the time Kelsey registered falling through flickering, raining darkness, something grasped her like an invisible windy hand, and plonked her unceremoniously back on board the ship. Panting, she saw Evelyn gesturing, her hand movements following Lissa’s descent onto deck.

Lissa laughed, her face contorted from the effort, kneeling and swaying back and forth as she took in more lightning. Taking deep breaths, Kelsey persisted in her efforts to break the storm.

It really felt like they were snatching droplets in a vast ocean. Barely making a dent in the frenzied thunder and lightning surrounding them. However, the reaching for the storm’s energy became harder as it grew distant. Her eyes focused on a speck of light within the calming storm, and she hissed in surprise. Nudging Lissa, she pointed, and both witches squinted, trying to make out what it was they saw.

“What in storm’s name…” Lissa’s voice was audible, now that the winds had died down. Both of them were drenched and shivering, and very much in need of warmth. “Is that a ship?”

Whatever it was, it approached them, getting larger by the second. Kelsey and Lissa sucked in more storm energy, and finally, people upon the ship—more a boat than a ship, really—were waving at them.

Lissa’s jaw opened in shock and joy. There were about fourteen people crammed onto the boat. “Survivors…” Lissa said. “They’re from my island! Oh, Yerity, you clever little witch!” she roared at a blonde-haired woman sitting at the front, as she steered the boat next to theirs.

“Permission to dock?” the woman called Yerity grinned. “Thought I saw some storm witch absorption going on here.”

Meridas, who had scrambled to Lissa and Kelsey’s sides, saluted. “Permission to dock.”

The survivors from the fallen island edged on board, and the storms around them abated. Lissa, joyful, went off to talk to her fellow islanders. Kelsey sucked in the last of the unnatural energies, redirecting it, then lay flat on the deck, staring now at clear blue skies. She couldn’t stop grinning. Her grin widened further when Perran crouched beside her.

“Permission to pick you up?” he said softly, one eyebrow arched.

“Granted,” she replied, raising her wet arms to him.

Chapter Ten– Perran

Perran hovered behind Luan, as she, along with Haut, interrogated the fourteen newcomers. No matter how noble they’d been in rescuing these people, they also needed to confirm that none of the islanders had criminal history. It was probably too much to hope that one of them might be an incredibly stupid fugitive, but still, better to check than to not.

Their last prisoner had already been disposed of, since under legal rights, the police force could execute a known criminal if they were responsible for the deaths of ten or more people. And since their little criminal overlord happened to be chafing the hundreds with his body count… he didn’t serve much use other than spilling the names of his contacts.

“None of them are Zamorkan,” Luan said to Perran after she’d finished interrogating the second to last, leaving the room behind the slightly bewildered refugee. “Unless they’re dyeing their hair, I suppose, but you don’t get a whole lot of hair dye in these parts. Most of them are afraid of Zamorka as well, think it’s infested with demons. And one of them was prickly as a hedgehog, but that’s because living as a hermit does that to you. They seem to be good.”

“Thanks,” Perran said, smiling at her. He turned to Haut, who’d come out from the other cabin. His refugee was still inside. “What’s your verdict?”

“The one in my cabin, I don’t trust,” Haut said shortly. “He’s not a known criminal, he doesn’t look Zamorkan, but I think we better keep a close eye on him. He might have some criminal contacts.”

“Noted,” Perran said. Haut called for the man to leave the cabin, and the three of them watched the man pace down the corridor, giving nervous glances at them the whole time.

“He is sweating like a pig,” Luan noted, pursing her lips. “Maybe I can… pay him a visit. A friendly one.”

“Friendly?” Haut rolled his eyes. He nudged her playfully. “We all know what your brand of ‘friendly’ is.”

“Did I forget to mention that I’m charming, too?” Luan smiled one of her rare smiles, before casually strolling in the direction of Haut’s suspicious refugee.

“You might want to keep an eye on her,” Perran advised. “Meanwhile… I’m getting drinks. Got something special planned.”

“Oh?” Haut smiled in a rather knowing way. “Celebrating with Kelsey, are we?”

“Something like that,” Perran said, trying not to think about the passionate kiss Kelsey had given him.

Or the ones she’d planted on his lips not long after he’d carried her back into the cabin, insisting that she needed to learn.

She was… developing quite rapidly in that area. Eagerly, too, and he wasn’t about to discourage her of the notion. Though a part of him was nervous that he was pushing Kelsey harder than she had the will to tolerate. She certainly showed more confidence than before, but he didn’t want her to feel any pressure to please him. A bigger part of him was absolutely adamant against behaving like his sister’s abuser, or Kelsey’s.

Carrying a bottle of wine and two glasses, he rapped smartly on Kelsey’s door, and she let him in with a smile, surprised at the offering. “Is this a date I didn’t know about?”

“It sure is,” he replied, screwing off the top of the wine bottle and liberally pouring her some. “To celebrate your progress, and the fact that you did a fantastic job with the saving part.” He poured his own glass, raising it to her in a toast. “By the way, in return for providing Lissa future accommodation, I believe she’s quite willing to keep helping you with your powers—though I think you’re getting on just fine with them.”

“There’s always more to learn,” she said, smiling modestly. “Though I definitely never pictured myself being able to absorb an entire storm when this all started.”

“Me neither,” Perran admitted, enjoying the warmth of the wine, and her smile. He liked the way her hair rolled down in delicate waves, just past her shoulders. Her scent had a gritty, rain-like feel to it, along with something else he couldn’t identify, and it appealed to him immensely. He wasn’t quite ready to wax poetic about her soulful eyes and heart-shaped faced, but give him a piece of paper and a quill, and he’d certainly try.

“If you keep staring at me like that, I might think you intend to do more than just talk to me,” Kelsey said, allowing a mischievous smirk to touch her lips. The unexpected expression took his breath away, and heated up the attraction within.

“Maybe that’s the intention. Courting a powerful storm witch. Having myself at her mercy…”

“Powerful…” she smiled ruefully. “I still don’t feel powerful.”

“You absorbed an entire storm.”

“That’s just power-power. Not…” she tapped her head. “I still feel like I’m stumbling my way through.”

He thought he understood that, at least. “You’re only as powerful as you believe,” he said, edging his chair closer to hers. Their knees bumped together. She examined him, licking her lips, before reaching to kiss him softly. She captured his bottom lip, and he hastily put his glass aside to move himself into a better position, so they could kiss freely. She started slow, enticing, like they’d practiced, snatching breaths between each extended kiss. “You’re getting… very good at this,” he hissed, before dabbing his tongue lightly at her mouth, demanding entrance.

She obliged, and desire shot to his groin, making it hard for his mind to focus, to do much else than drag Kelsey onto his lap and wrap his arms around her as they deepened the kiss.

Chapter Eleven – Kelsey

Perran’s kisses ignited her insides in such a delicious manner, that she wanted nothing more than to scrap his planned date and take things to the final step. When she wasn’t being distracted with the mystery of the king’s island, or her own dark, negative thoughts, she kept wondering about Master Rus. If he cared for her. He said he did, but it was one thing to say something, another to mean it.

Even with the affection, and the kisses he gave her.

Lord Feylen had once told her he cared for her. He said it often, even though his actions contradicted his words to the point where she just didn’t believe that caring meant anything. Her parents cared, but they were distant, not a part of her everyday life.

Now, Master Rus treated her with kindness. He threw people at her, and those people became friends. Supportive friends who wanted to boot Kelsey out of her own mind and into a better place. She understood that more than ever, how annoying she was to them.

How annoying she was to herself.

No one could ever grow if they acted like she did. They’d just slip into shadows, becoming nothing. Worth nothing. She’d managed to screw herself up without realizing it, happily planting herself into the role of victim.

I’m no victim. She thought that with fury in her heart. Fury at herself, fury for wasted opportunities. Anger that she never tried to speak out, never tried to stop Feylen from creeping into her soul and ripping all the emotions apart.

And with that, she knew she needed to be honest with Perran. She didn’t want practice kisses, for him to compliment each one. Or for him to be delicate and gentle around her. She wanted him, pressed against her, heat burning through her skin as they melded together.

He got up from the chair, lifting her up with him by the rear. Her legs clamped around him as she continued the kiss, shaking in excitement, and he half-ran, half-stumbled with her to the bed. Her back hit the mattress, and he clambered on top of her, eagerly tucking one of her legs against his hips.

“Don’t stop,” she said, breathless, when they broke apart.

He placed his forehead against hers, before she could lunge to kiss him again. “Are you sure you want this?”

“Yes,” she said, taking fast, unsteady gasps of air. “Please,” she whispered.

She felt him shiver. “Well, I suppose if you say please...” he grinned, before capturing her lips in his own. Between kisses, he managed to get out the words, “I was finding it hard to make up excuses not to take it further.”

She let out a high, giddy laugh, feeling strangely drunk. All her body flooded with warmth, craving contact with his. Just the way he pressed against her, so everything was flush with one another, the way his movements acted as a powerful stimuli, along with the zap of pleasure when his hips and growing erection brushed the fabric just over her bundle of nerves…

She never thought she could feel such a powerful, intense attraction for someone. Not like this. Not to the point where every part of her body screamed for it, and her brain caught fire with arousal. In a way, she became even more aroused by the fact that she realized how turned on she was. That she was bold enough to demand this. It injected a sense of power, of certainty in her. Her hands groped at his shirt, determined to rip it off, so she could feast her eyes on the body hiding beneath. Her eagerness seemed to be having some kind of trigger effect on him, because the kisses grew deeper, more intense, and his body pressed harder into her, as if he intended to merge them both together.

Not that Kelsey minded the idea of that happening. She felt pretty certain that he could do almost anything with her, and she wouldn’t resist. Him stripping her of her clothes upon the bed helped fire up the mood further, as his hands danced over her skin, revealing more and more of it. Soon both were completely naked, their clothes piled in ungainly lumps upon the carpet. One of her hands was pressed into the back of his neck, the other on his right shoulder blade. She loved the way he kept drawing back in the kisses, only to cut straight into the next. She’d heard things about kissing, but never quite expected it to be this enjoyable.

This beautiful. Her eyes, when they had the chance, wandered over his muscular frame, how his muscles tensed as he braced himself above her. His stomach was so flat, his body so well defined—she never thought she could exactly ignite over the visual feast of his skin, either.

She was learning a lot of things today, it seemed.

“What would you like me to do now?” he said, wearing a wicked grin upon his face. Testing her boldness, her determination.

“Inside,” she managed to whimper, her body arching upwards. His erection could be felt just by her thigh. “Want you inside.”

The pupils in his eyes went completely black. He lowered his body, positioning himself perfectly against her entrance. Teasing her, though he full well knew what she wanted. Was he expecting her to make the next move, too? Her courage faltered slightly, but just before it disappeared completely, he slowly penetrated her, whispering, “Tell me if it hurts. I know first times can do so.”

She’d heard about first times hurting, too, and it caused her to tense slightly. However, he was able to slide completely inside her, and although the sensation felt weird, it didn’t hurt.

“So...” he said, when he didn’t get the expected shout of pain. “That’s good. I don’t want to hurt you.” He moved slowly out, then back in, still watching her the whole time. She relaxed, and he sped up, and the mounting desire bloomed again, increasing in strength until she became a litany of gasps and moans, clinging onto that stunning body of his, listening to his rough, turned-on voice. She didn’t fully understand all the things he was doing to her body, or how simple contact and breathless words could elicit such a reaction out of her, but they did, and they intensified. Just when she thought she couldn’t possibly feel any more than she already did, a tight knot in her stomach, lower, seemed to pound at her, demanding release. When it did, a blizzard of pleasure tore through her limbs, and shut off her ability to think or breathe properly.

By the time she recovered from the orgasm, Perran seemed overcome by a similar sensation of his own, though she didn’t know for certain what he might be feeling. His motions became gentler, winding to a natural stop. He was panting above her, wearing a big, beatific smile, staring at her as if she was the most important thing in the world.

Which was rather a nice feeling to have, if she was honest with herself. She couldn’t help but keep stroking his face, his arms, his chest, even as they eventually separated from the hips, but remained close enough to embrace.

Neither of them said anything for a moment, and it was Perran who first broke the silence. “Not bad for a first time of yours,” he said, grinning as he kissed her forehead, then just behind her ear. A part of her wished he didn’t do that, because it felt entirely too nice, to the point where she might want to have her second time right here and now, and she didn’t think she was emotionally prepared for another beating of pleasure.

“I had some help,” she replied ruefully, again thinking about how painfully shy she’d been.

“Yes, but the help can only do so much. Hey. Are you okay?”

She nodded, matching his grin. “Yes, I, uh, enjoyed that. A lot. I was wondering for so long, and then I worried it would hurt a lot, or it would be bad, but… I worried too much, it seems.”

He rolled off her gently before stroking her cheek. “You have little to be worried about, Kelsey. And everything to look forward to when we return to Azarus.”

“Once you survive the backlash from your failed mission, I suppose,” Kelsey said, knowing it’d be tough.

“We might not have failed,” he said. “Luan and Haut are hot on the trail of one of the refugees. We think it’s a possibility he might be the person we’re looking for.”

“That doesn’t make any sense. Why would he stay on an island he purposefully intended to sink?”

“I think if he underestimated when it sank, he might. Lissa did say he had to be on the island to summon the coal-demon. It’s entirely possible he underestimated the spread.”

That made sense. Kelsey cuddled up to him, her mind turning over her life in the past few months.

Everything had improved from the moment she met Perran Rus. When he took her out of that place, because she was unable to do so herself. He’d shown her respect, care, and love. He’d gone above and beyond the call of duty for her, and she wanted nothing more now than to spend more of her life with him, to continue exploring the budding relationship. The budding love.

“There’s something I want to say,” she said, though she wasn’t too excited about the prospect of potentially ruining the peace between them. But she needed to mention it. “About… the comments we exchanged. Back before I was left with Lissa.”

She felt Perran stiffen slightly before he took a breath and nodded. “Okay.”

“I have more to add on the matter. I still think that if there’s anyone you should be angry at, it’s her abuser. But I understand what you mean that it is her fault as well. Maybe she could have been stronger. But neither should you be angry because she wasn’t. It’s just… I don’t think she knew the choice she was making. Even if it was a choice, she didn’t understand.”

Perran took more deep breaths, giving himself a moment before he answered. “I was angry. Because I thought we’d be together, and I’d protect her. But it’s hard to protect someone who doesn’t want to protect themselves. And I hate… I hate seeing they have a choice, but each time, they keep thinking they don’t.”

She kissed  him on his cheek, resting one hand against his gradually slowing heartbeat. “You did everything you could at the time, I’m sure.”

He shook his head. “I could have done more. But… it’s too late now. I just have to accept that I didn’t. And I hope that somewhere down the line, I succeed with someone else where I failed with my sister. Like you.” He kissed her on the nose, and she giggled in response.

She hoped he’d be able to get over the ghost of his sister. She hoped as well that she could completely shrug off her own past and be able to plunge into this relationship fully, without any fears weighing her down. To be able to tell her parents the truth and know it was a good truth to tell.

To love someone else, and to love herself. It was all she wanted.

“I still have a ways to go, I think,” she said, closing her eyes, listening to his steady breaths. “But out of all the people I get to be with on the journey—I’m glad I’m with you.”

His arms wrapped around her tighter. “Me, too,” he said. “Can’t wait to see more of you in action, either.”

“Depends on what type of action you’re looking for,” Kelsey said with a grin. “The storm kind, or the bed kind?”

“Why not both?”

Well, she couldn’t really argue with that.

The Dragon's Ink Witch

Six Isles’ Witches & Dragons

Book 4

By: Lisa Daniels

Chapter One – Luan

She got the tough assignments. When they needed information, they called for her to extract it. When they needed death, she was the monster under the bed.

It helped she liked the killing, in a way. A twisted part of her soul enjoyed putting the pain in those she felt thoroughly deserved it. Another part, quieter these days, thought she was simply too broken to do anything normally.

But that was okay. They needed broken people in the constabulary. They needed those who had brushed with death and the lower levels of life, to maintain law and order within the floating islands and the Undercity. Anywhere else, and Luan would be considered dangerous. She didn’t hold much value as an air witch who moved ships through the skies. No, her value lay in snatching the breath from people’s lungs, creating vacuums that even the toughest, most experienced fighters and witches couldn’t break out of. You couldn’t fight nothing, after all.

If Luan wanted someone dead, they were dead.

Her target address loomed before her. Hostage situation. Deep in the heart of Azarus, the king’s isle, a prince was captive. A bargaining chip against the king.

None of the police had known about this capture for months. The enemy had done their job well, blackmailing the king into frightened silence, getting him to do their bidding like a puppet on strings. Easy to bring a dragon low if you threatened their only offspring, when all the others had long since died.

Laws had been shifting. Security around Azarus had tightened. People needed more and more documentation to enter and leave, and the king stopped coming to court gatherings. Even with the fact that the police were based in Azarus, the corruption had started from the top and trickled down below, until it reached the goons like Perran and Luan. By the time that happened, it was too late. Their ship had been impounded, for fear of bringing back a disease from the higher isles. Their task force was reduced, the team splitting up until only four people remained, and they certainly wouldn’t be getting any heavy duties.

Except this, their own research project, separated from the mundane patrols and issues of understaffing.

Keep it quiet, Luan, Perran had told her. You’re the one for the job. We’ll stamp out the ugly stain in our own city yet.

Manipulating the wind to pick the lock was easy. It required the same kind of precision Luan employed for stealing another’s breath. This was what she excelled at. The lock creaked, along with the metal door, and Luan stepped inside an ugly industrial warehouse—a steel-working factory that had shut down six years previously, with a For Sale sign that rotted from the rain and snow outside. Luan rolled up her sleeves, exposing the black ink tattoos all along her arms—the patterns a mix between wind and fire swirls, dancing and entwining. She flexed her strong muscles, taking deep, steady breaths, eyes adjusting to the gloom, nose inhaling dust, the acrid scent of rusting metal, and something else that she couldn’t place.

This is where we think the prince is being held captive. Every ship that left Azarus was checked, and no one had spotted the prince in any of them. Maybe he could have been stowed away in a floating dingy in the night, but all their flimsy evidence pointed to corruption within Azarus itself, and the possibility that the prince had never left.

Strictly, Luan was off the books right now. A free agent. Liable for arrest herself if she was caught. She wore a bandana around her face, and now tugged on black, elbow-length gloves, before sliding further into darkness. This place didn’t feel right, somehow. However, there didn’t seem to be anything out of place, and she continued her search, using her senses to try and locate any changes in the air… any breaths that tainted the otherwise natural ripples.

There were several. Below. She couldn’t find an entrance to below, until she reached a small pile of crates and felt dead air beneath said crates. A draft—a passage. Nudging the crates aside, she located the metal trapdoor and hoisted it up with a creak, shimmying herself into the dark hole that opened before her. She could find no source of light, so relied on the way the air felt around her to guide her way through. It gave her sight even in complete darkness, let her navigate through every bump and jag.

A few moments, one more twisting, downward curve, and orblights infused the otherwise darkness, teasing images into her eyes and breaths. People were here, she sensed their carbon dioxide forming little clouds and separating until it merged with the air around it, and another draft that suggested ventilation from somewhere.

Her prey was close. And perhaps so was the prince. She couldn’t be that lucky, right?

“You can’t keep avoiding your food,” a low, guttural voice probed at her ears, addressing someone else. “Else we’re force-feeding it down your gullet. Storming eat up, man.”

Silence to those words. Luan entered a long, stretched basement filled with cell cages, most of them empty. A man wearing navy blue straddled a chair in front of a big cage, which contained a prisoner within, held by dark chains to the wall.

Anti-magic chains. Meaning they could stop someone from casting spells, or… shifting. She tasted the texture around them and scowled.

She supposed it was the prince in that cage, but honestly, the wretched bundle of flesh looked nothing like the daguerreotype Luan had seen of him. At his best, the prince had curly, dark hair, heavy-lidded eyes with what seemed like a light brown hue, and the barest hint of stubble on his delicate yet… manly face.

This was some thinned-out, overgrown wretch with a beard for days and filthy clothes, and chains long enough for him to wrap around his own neck if he decided he didn’t want to live.

Regardless of whether it’s him or not, I can’t exactly ignore the situation. The sentry/guard continued talking at the prince, completely oblivious to Luan slinking closer. She didn’t need to be too close—she just wanted to overhear the conversation. There was nothing more to overhear, though. Just grumbling from a bored and irritated guard, and silence from the prisoner.

Why was there only one guard, though? Why only one prisoner, in all this? Something wasn’t right. If this was the prince, then surely, he merited a much higher level of security. Unless he’d been down here so long without any interruptions that they’d simply grown lax.

She was close enough to the guard now to see the dirty blond hair. Zamorkan. Really, he should have spotted her by now. There weren’t any hiding places. If his magic was any good, he should know that an air witch was almost breathing down his neck.

Oh well. She had another way to seize his attention. Magic flaring to life in her, she tugged hard at the breath in the man’s lungs, separating the air clinging to his body as rapidly as possible so that he existed in a bubble of nothing.

He attempted to make a sound and wheezed, clutching at his throat, gasping for breath that wouldn’t come—which was a bad idea. It exacerbated the effect, and his skin began bruising as blood vessels popped. Sensing a buildup of magic within him, Luan prepared to dodge, in case he unleashed it. She watched ruthlessly as he continued gasping like a fish, before passing out from lack of oxygen.

“Okay,” she said, now walking and stepping over the unconscious body, letting oxygen return to him. She didn’t want him dead yet. She bent and noted a distinct lack of keys on the man. “Where’s a girl gotta go to get some keys around here?”

The figure slumped on the bed, surrounded by chains, raised his tatty hair and head up, to lock murky brown eyes with her own dark ones. He seemed fazed, unfocused, perhaps not comprehending the words that left her lips. It made her feel just a little bit more hateful of the man on the ground. “Do you know where the keys to your cage are?” She repeated the question several times, patiently, slowly, until the man nodded and pointed a shaking hand to the bare patch of wall next to the guard. Luan followed his finger but sensed for herself that there was a hidden compartment in the wall. One shining brass key later, she unlocked the door.

Her intention was to switch chains, but she also needed to confirm who the prisoner was. “Hey. I need to know who you are. I’m here to locate someone, but I can’t be sure you’re the one I’m looking for.” She held up her police badge to his eyes. The man examined it for a long moment, then licked chapped lips.

“I’m…” He frowned, as if struggling to remember his name. “K-Kerrick…”

Finally, Luan thought in exasperation. “About time, Prince Kerrick. You’ve been missing a while.”

The grubby man simply watched her with a slightly glazed stare as she unlocked his cuffs with another key on the chain. He barely moved on the bed as she floated the unfortunate guard to the chains and clapped him in. Obviously, Kerrick was too weak, too malnourished, his mind rusty from lack of use or despair to focus, so she restricted what she said to him.

She helped float him along with her magic, as his legs were weak, and outside, she scurried to where Perran was waiting while Prince Kerrick gasped in fresher air, cheeks catching the cool breeze.

“One Prince Kerrick,” Luan said, promptly dropping the prince in Perran’s home, straight on the couch. “I’ve got a guard that needs some interrogating. I promise not to leave too much of a mess on the floor.”

Perran Rus twitched a smile in her direction, dark eyes fond. “Knew you’d do it.”

“Of course, sir. I’ll be as quick as I can. And…” She chewed her bottom lip aggressively. “What’re your plans with revealing the prince?”

“I have none. I need to read the situation with the throne. I don’t know if the corruption stops the moment Kerrick is returned, or if the king somehow is in it.” Perran gave her a light shove. “Be careful, Luan.”

“I always am,” she said, smiling briefly at him before making her way back to the abandoned factory.

Thoughts swam through her mind the whole time. Thoughts like how she hoped the guard was conscious now, so he could have time to register his new, hopeless situation. Maybe some of his friends had returned—Zamorkans had that bond, right? More for her to take on.

Luan did the things no one else wanted to do. People hated her for it and hated her by default. But that was okay.

Some people in this world were just not meant to be loved.

Chapter Two – Kerrick

It took him some time to accept he’d been rescued. The days and weeks and months all blurred into one endless nightmare, and at one point, he’d given up ever stepping into daylight again. It was just him and those Zamorkans, whispering their threats, saying what they had forced his father to do, that it was thanks to him that the Six Isles would finally get what they deserved.

Everything, everything… it just never stopped. Until it did. Until that strange woman, with her dark hair cropped short, her eyes blunt and purposeful, her voice no-nonsense, just stepped into his nightmare and yanked him straight out of it.

Now, with a week of recovery, meals and drink down his throat, servants cooing over him, and officer Rus and his storm witch partner determined to keep him safe and secluded, he felt like a shadow of his former self again. He’d shaved off everything that had sprouted out of his face, but he didn’t look the same as before. He was marked, somehow.

“Thanks for the food, Kelsey,” he said with a smile at the storm witch, who returned it tentatively. She had a kind of demure manner about her—someone used to serving others. “What’s the plan for me today? Staying low still?”

“For now,” Kelsey said in her soft voice. “We’re unsure what your reappearance will do. We don’t know the grip the, um, enemy has on the palace. If your father is… compromised.”

Kerrick’s stomach clenched at the thought, but he knew it to be a possibility. “I remember him talking to some Zamorkan magic users not too long before I was… captured.” He threaded his fingers together, staring at his soup and bread. “But then that doesn’t make sense. If he is with them, why pretend that he’s being blackmailed?”

The storm witch’s brow furrowed in confusion. “Do you think your father is capable of such a thing?”

“Yes.” Kerrick began breaking up the bread, taking care not to spill crumbs onto the blankets. “Absolutely.”

His father was not a kind man. Perhaps not cruel, but certainly not the type to win any parenting award. But… he’d broken when Mother died. His oldest son died. He’d become bitter against the people he was meant to rule. Bitter about how things worked, and the numerous laws that chained him to the throne.

Yes. I could believe my own father would lock me up. He’d suspected it when he’d gone so long without being found.

Just never said it out loud. “So…” he stuffed some bread into his mouth. “When’s that air witch coming back? I want to thank her.”

And also see her when I’m not feeling like I’m about to drop into a dead faint.

“Luan’s visiting today, actually,” Kelsey said, one eyebrow quirking upwards. “I’ll be sure to direct her to you if that’s what you’d like.” She seemed to resist the impulse to add a word, perhaps a sir or master.

“I’d like that.”

She took that as her invitation to leave, and did so, bobbing an awkward curtsy on the spot before disappearing. He gave a tiny smile. He was used to servants tripping themselves up talking to him, intimidated by his status. They forgot that there was a living, breathing creature under the prince mantle.

He considered, briefly, how things must have changed since he was kept in that lonely, cold cell. How the court visitors must have simply adapted not to expect him there. How the two women he’d been eyeing had likely moved onto greener pastures—that world was rather at the throat when it came to securing alliances, courtships, marriages. People always adjusted. He imagined striding back into the palace, past astonished guards, tenuously related nobles and servants, heavy footfalls making it into the throne room, where his father sat on a gilded chair draped in shadows, one fist pressed against his chin as he leaned—his father’s favorite position when enduring the sheer number of officials and complaints in his throne room each day. He saw the blond and red-streaked advisors on either side of his father, hovering like vultures, hissing their poisons in the king’s ears.

With it came a very real dread that if Kerrick attempted to return home, he’d be locked up again. That his father was the reason he ended up in that lonely cage for months, years, for all he knew.

Unless he challenged his father for the throne.

Kerrick gripped his mug so tightly that he almost shattered it in his hands then and there. Releasing pressure at the last second, he exhaled and turned towards the person who had just walked in.

Instantly, he brightened.

“Hey,” Kerrick said, eyes finally meeting the air witch’s, whom he had only seen in a fog the last time. “I just wanted to thank you for helping me.”

Her eyes were dark and cold, hard like the lines on her face. Yet there was a beauty about her. A diamond in the rough, with her short, black hair, her slender body. His eyes absently traced her heart-shaped jawline, her smooth neck, the tapered shell of her ear.

“Consider me thanked.” She nodded curtly at him. “Seems like you might be stuck here for longer, though. Not the safest out there right now.”

“Oh, it’s not so bad,” Kerrick admitted. “Long as I get to stare at people like you.”

Her brow furrowed in slight confusion. “What do you mean?”

He took a few strides closer to her and was able to pick up on her strong, spicy aroma. Like her skin had been dusted with cumin, giving a kind of heat to her scent. A smell that appealed to him, made him flare his nostrils slightly, just to tug in a little more of her.

“I mean… staring at pretty women. Like you.” He was now starting to regret his line of questioning. He was supposed to have charm. He was supposed to be smooth. This was the opposite of smooth. This was a disaster.

She let out a derisive laugh which startled him. “You think I’m pretty? Might need to get yourself some glasses, because your eyes aren’t working too good.”

Rather than be dismayed by this, Kerrick simply folded his arms, regarding the woman in front of him with more interest. “You’re not used to being flirted with, are you?”

“There’s good reason for that. I don’t date,” she said, looking bemused, as if she wasn’t quite sure why she was following through with this conversation. “Now, if you don’t mind, I have somewhere to be...”

“Shame,” Kerrick said. “Wouldn’t mind getting to know you some more. Understand the woman responsible for hauling me out.”

Something unfathomable flashed in her eyes. “Yeah, that’s not happening. Trust me—people don’t want to know.”

“I do.”

She simply shook her head, giving him a curt wave before leaving the room. Kerrick was tempted to follow her, but he didn’t want to come across as a stalker during their first real interaction.

Someone like Luan wasn’t really his type. His type were women of the court, with their finery, their etiquette, their long family histories.  He was expected eventually to marry, and once he did, a prince would never divorce. Not without some big public drama pelting their way. Somehow, though, he’d managed to avoid the responsibility, joining parties, balls, courts, dating different women, sinking his flesh into those women as well… but never quite settling for anyone.

Luan, however, provided an entirely new venue for him. Someone who didn’t care for that world. Someone who served the law, who used her magic in dangerous ways, who had a glint in her eyes that suggested she had seen death and walked alongside it as a friend.

The most familiarity the prince had with death was from when his mother died during a state visit to Serpent Isle, and the executions his father oversaw, though Kerrick had never seen the executions—just watched the criminals being led away to the chopping block. She came from a completely different world, and it excited him on a level.

A challenge. Regardless of the result, he did want to get to know the air witch a little better. He was in the habit of rewarding those who helped him.

* * *

The next time she visited, she went straight to talk with Perran Rus in his study, and when she emerged from it, her face was taut and worried. Kerrick, trying out a strange herbal tea at the time, approached her, determined to know the matter for himself.

“Luan, a word with you.”

The air witch shot him a look of annoyance, but followed him into the kitchen, which was currently empty. “What do you want?”

“Is it trouble with the group who captured me? I just want to know.”

Another calculating stare from the air witch. Her lips tightened, as if determined to seal the words within, but Kerrick stood his ground. She might be the officer on the case, but he was a prince.

“It is. We… I have dealt with three of the people who kidnapped you, but none of them divulged any information that can help us. Then officers of the law began sniffing around, and I had no choice but to leave the bodies. Now they’re on the lookout for a suspect—and if they find out our division had anything to do with it… let’s just say it won’t be pretty.”

“Off the books, are you?” Kerrick was surprised. He assumed that the law had been working to find him independent of his father. “You weren’t supposed to be looking for me?”

“No,” Luan admitted, her lips twisted in a sardonic smile. “Finding you was entirely our own idea. We figured there was corruption in the police itself, since attempts to investigate you kept getting mysteriously shunted aside or given to task members that we’ve long suspected of being bent and letting certain petty criminals free. Can’t voice that out loud, though. Not unless we want ourselves kicked out.”

“Skies,” Kerrick whispered. “That’s…”

“Shit,” Luan said bluntly. She paced up and down in agitation, though Kerrick couldn’t tell why. Worried she’d overshared? Or angry at her inability to do something when the system worked against her?

“You would be pardoned instantly if you turned up at the throne with me,” Kerrick suggested. “I’d be surprised if they didn’t bend over themselves trying to pat your task force on the back.”

“We’re considering it,” Luan admitted, ruffling a hand to the back of her hair. Kerrick noticed the faint black etching of a tattoo on her wrist, and he was struck with a sudden curiosity to see the rest of it. But first things first. “But we still don’t know how deep the corruption goes, or if the king himself will be in danger if we show up with you. And what if we turn up with you and they just haul us away on the spot?”

“Easy. Get me to an area where there’s so many people, that no one can possibly protest me returning to the palace.”

“Like where?” Luan’s eyes searched the prince’s face. “What do you suggest?”

“A ball. A place where all the rich people gather, with so many witches and dragons that the enemy would be insane to even attempt something. I assume balls are still being held on Azarus?”

Luan chewed her bottom lip, and Kerrick’s attention drifted to the movement. “We’ll check into it. We don’t make a habit of attending balls, as you can imagine...”

“There’s usually a seasonal one,” Kerrick said, running through all the times he’d been in his head. Ones held for holiday events, the king’s birthday, celebrating when the floating isles first established the rule of law… “If you haven’t been lying to me about the date, then we should have the winter ball in four days’ time. Biggest event of the year, people turn up in their best clothes, drink incredibly expensive wine and make fools of themselves. Usually the king attends as well.”

The air witch was nodding. “Yeah… okay. Sounds like an actual plan. We better get you to Perran, then. Doesn’t make sense to leave you out of your own idea.”

Kerrick grinned. Luan gestured at him to follow her, and he placed down his tea, examining the nape of her neck as they headed to Perran’s study. The older dragon listened to Luan and Kerrick with a blank expression upon his face, and when the suggestion was finally out, Perran sighed and rubbed his nose.

“Seems like we’re running out of options. Certainly can’t keep hiding you in my house forever, and people might connect the dots with how the victims were asphyxiated and go after Luan. She does have a very distinct… style.”

“I was careful,” Luan protested. “I’m not an idiot.”

“You get carried away,” Perran replied.

“I do not. I’m a professional.”

“So, are you going to do it?” Kerrick cut in, before the two started bickering further. He sensed they tended to do this quite a lot, since Perran seemed like someone who liked things to go smoothly, and Luan was the sort who probably threw dynamite into a bar to get it emptied. Result over method.

“Probably. We just need to figure out how to sneak you to the winter ball without being seen on the streets.”

“Dragon,” Kerrick replied. “I’m a gray. Most of us look similar. Plus, dragons get an automatic invite to the ball. If you guys are on my back, then no one should bother you.”

Luan’s mouth split into a devious smile. “Seriously? Going to a ball on the back of a dragon?”

“There’s much you don’t know about us fancy rich people, it seems.” Kerrick gave her a warm smile back, and she blinked, before letting out a snort.

“I’m still concerned you will be recognized,” Perran said. “There will be people who know what you look like as a dragon.”

“Then we can ride on you,” Kerrick said. “Simple. You’re a dragon, too.”

Perran fell silent at that.

“Fantastic,” Kerrick said, as if the matter was already decided. “Would you care to come with me to the ball?” He gave an exaggerated bow towards Luan, stretching out one hand. When he glanced at her, he caught the heavy roll of her eyes, a small smile playing at her lips.

“Are you going to continue to be this pushy?”

“Why not?” Kerrick said with a shrug. “Will give you an excuse to dress pretty.”

“I’m not getting in a dress,” she said.

“If you’re going to the ball, yes, you are.”

“I’m not going.”

“You’ll need to go,” Perran said, and dismay hit Luan’s face. “You’re the only agent who I trust can thoroughly protect herself in my task force.”

“Yeah, sure,” Luan said with a snort. “I can count on one hand the number of people who’d be pleased to see me there. I wasn’t a popular girl at the academy.”

“Why not?” Kerrick’s eyebrows pricked upward in interest.

“I’m a little too good at killing,” she said, and that was the end of it. Her body language closed in, and she turned away from Kerrick, addressing Perran exclusively. “Do I have to go? Really?”

Perran gave her a tight-lipped smile. “I’ll get Lady Vash and Natalie to help out with clothing for you. And potentially be guests with us as a buffer.”

Luan’s fingers twitched, as if she wanted to wrap them around Perran’s throat and squeeze. However, Kerrick was well aware of how she could strangle someone with just a careful snatch of their breath.

“Make sure you get a matching outfit for me as well,” Kerrick said, grinning at the filthy look Luan shot his way.

This one would be very, very fun to tease. If she didn’t kill him first.

Chapter Three – Luan

She hated having the dream. The one that showed her mother and father eating at a picnic table on a day filled with fog. A few years after the fall of Serpent’s Isle. They stared at her with hate and bewilderment, and it broke her heart.

“You’re not supposed to be like this,” her father had whispered. She’d failed all her academic grades but caught the eye of the police. One of the tests they gave people was to test how they behaved when it came to attending an execution. Test how they behaved if they needed to do the execution themselves.

She’d happily, without remorse, slain the criminal. She also happily, and certainly without a shred of guilt, extracted information from a man who was abusing a child. Something about watching these despicable, vile human beings suffer gave her a great kick in the gut with excitement.

Her parents didn’t find fault with her killing people. Officers of the law did so by necessity, if they couldn’t bring someone into jail first. If it wasn’t a kill-on-sight bounty.

No, they hated the fact that she liked it.

“Why shouldn’t I like it?” Luan had challenged him. “Wouldn’t it be better to put someone in a job they like, then force someone to do something they don’t want to do, and ensure they suffer from trauma from their actions?”

“You’re supposed to be a lady,” her mother had said. “You’re supposed to marry one day and have children. Who would want to be with a killer like you?”

Their voices always merged and bayed until they drowned out all sense and reason, and Luan woke up in a sweat, a sick feeling in her gut and a heavy sense of unfairness for her parents’ attitudes. Luan didn’t do anything wrong. The police wanted her. It was her calling, her life. And yet they thought her a monster.

Maybe they weren’t far off the truth. Luan had seen the way other people regarded her. How she did her job just a little bit too well, shed no tears, and smiled when they gave her a new task, a new criminal to hunt. The only division that really accepted her was Perran Rus, and he was a downgrade from her original one. Given how he treated her, though, she considered it a distinctive upgrade from her former colleagues.

Monster. Luan wiped at her face and caught a solitary tear offending her skin. Usually it didn’t bother her, but those were her stronger days, when she could deal with anything. It was the weak days, the doubting days, when she wondered if everyone else was right, and their caution towards her justified. Should have been married. Should have been a lady. Should have tried to disguise how much she enjoyed being on the right side of the law.

Like any of them wouldn’t jump at the chance to take down someone who hurt them, she thought sourly, trying to bolster herself. Her mood bottomed out further when she saw the silver and blue dress hanging just in front of her closet.

Shit. She was supposed to wear that to the winter ball today. They didn’t want her turning up in a top and pants, or looking like she spent entirely too much time on the decks of ships.

That stupid prince, though. Insisting on coming to the ball with her as if they were a couple. Being entirely too interested in her. She honestly didn’t understand why he wasn’t running away screaming. She’d tortured a man in front of him. She’d admitted to killing three people, to being dangerous. Yet no hisses of monster came from his lips. Instead, those annoying caramel-colored eyes of his watched her, sparkling if they ever made contact with hers, along with that smile he was now reserving exclusively for her. Biting remarks didn’t deter him.

He wasn’t acting like he was supposed to. And it confused the storms out of her. There would be nothing but trouble with a prince flirting with someone like her.

He probably flirts with everyone.

Sighing, she edged herself out of bed, mind whirling, sometimes bouncing to Kerrick and how annoying he was. Sometimes to Perran, and his burning concern that they were too late, and that the Conclave of Zamorka had already buried their claws too deep into Azarus for them to stop the avalanche. The Conclave’s reach extended into the tiny islets, their poisons spreading, and what little cure that remained to combat the Creeping Rot needed to be saved for the Six Islands.

Luan bit her lip. It always came back to that disease, in the end. The same disease that took Serpent Isle, and now killed magic users who were too slow to realize what was happening to them. As long as the Creeping Rot existed, they would always be under threat.

And if the Creeping Rot had penetrated the heart of the kingdom, seeping its way into the walls of the palace… then they were too late for that, too.

If Azarus fell, it would create panic. Regicide, with the royal line being so thin now, spread between the king, his cousins, and Kerrick… they likely had an existential crisis boiling under their feet.

Yet they still wanted her to wear a storming dress.

The things she did for people.

* * *

Luan nervously slid into Perran’s estate, fur robes wrapped tight around her to prevent anyone from looking at the shimmering dress she wore. It exposed the tattoos on her legs and arms, and some of the ones on her back, too. All were nothing more than swirling wind and fire patterns in intricate black ink, with the largest swirls covering her shoulder blades, and wisps of wind tracks on either side of her spine.

All a result of probably the most excruciating yet exquisite sixteen hours of tattoo time upon her body, two days in a row. Yet another black mark against her family, as tattoos were something that savages did to their bodies, and no self-respecting woman would do the same. Well, Luan saw it as a way to mark herself. She liked the tapping of the needle, and the way the patterns bloomed over her skin.

She didn’t much like the dress, or how exposed she felt in it. At least she wore low-heeled shoes to go with them, because she didn’t think herself capable of surviving staggering around in four-inch heels.

Perran and Kerrick were wearing suits. The plan was for Perran to take on his dragon form, and have Luan and Kerrick sit on his back, along with Lady Vash and Natalie, who would trail behind in their dragon forms. Just to add some more legitimacy that they were attending the winter ball.

“Going to show us the dress?” Kerrick asked, eyes glinting in clear interest. Luan scowled at him. It was completely his fault, after all, that she was wearing this thing. Okay, maybe not entirely his fault, but she felt justified in pinning all her irritation upon him.

“You can wait a little longer,” she said, with slightly more venom in her voice than intended. Perran braced a hand on Kerrick’s shoulder.

“Don’t push it. It’s a miracle as it is that she’s even consented to wearing one.”

“Don’t like playing dress-up like the other women?” Kerrick asked, disregarding Perran’s sage advice.

“I have my uniform,” she replied stiffly. “And when you’re home alone, you don’t exactly want to wear something you can barely sit down in.”

“Barely sit down in? Must be some outfit you got.” The prince’s eyes widened in an entirely too innocent gesture.

“Are you sure I can’t kill this one?” Luan muttered to Perran, who simply shook his head, smiling faintly.

“You need to protect him, Luan. He might be a dragon, but he’s not you.”

The flattery buoyed her up slightly. She pretended like it didn’t affect her, but her mood lightened, and she broke up her near-permanent scowl, sparing both dragon shifters from further resentment.

The two men continued talking to one another, and Luan ran through all the possibilities in her head about what might unfold tonight at the winter ball. Occasionally, her attention drifted back to Kerrick. His black hair really was floppy, framing his face in a mass of unkempt curls. Did he ever brush it? The stubble on that rounded chin and cheek darkened otherwise smooth, pale features, and she remembered him with that wild, tangled growth, hiding everything about that face.

For someone starved by imprisonment, he did look quite toned. Nothing compared to Perran and the others in the task force, but enough for her to notice.

Not that she was noticing. It was all hidden underneath that stupid, dark gray, three-piece suit of his anyway, and that purple bow tie. Who even wore bow ties nowadays? Perran didn’t look much better. All stiff in a pressed, iron-black tuxedo, with a long, yellow tie covering the white buttons. He looked out of place in it, instead of lounging in his officer’s uniform. Just as awkward as she felt, and it helped her feel a little more reassured that her boss was being put in a compromising position as well.

Lady Vash and Natalie arrived less than an hour later, far more willing to show off their dresses. Vash had long, flowing, black hair, a vision like her brother, Meridas. Natalie, in the meanwhile, had cut her hair a little shorter and seemed rapier-thin in comparison to Vash. Both women held that poise Luan had learned to associate with people from higher society, moving with an easy grace and a confident demeanor.

Sometimes she felt a little envious of their grace. She didn’t quite have that same attitude. Usually it didn’t bother her, but sometimes…

“Come on,” Vash said, once they’d dragged Luan out of sight of the men and shoved her into a bathroom. “We want to see for ourselves.”

“You’ve already seen,” Luan said, but Natalie and Vash didn’t really take that as an answer. Eventually, with an over-dramatic sigh, Luan peeled the robes off so Vash and Natalie could once more admire their choice.

Blue and silver frills hemmed the bottom of the dress, which was tight enough to accentuate all her features. The tattoos were starkly exposed, and somehow seemed to match the gentle, mixing colors of the dress. The only thing Luan didn’t have was makeup, and both dragon women seemed determined to correct that error.

“We’ve got to do something about that hair of yours as well,” Natalie said, running her fingers through Luan’s graceless hair. “You don’t brush much.”

“I brush every day,” Luan said, slightly offended. “With an old brush,” she amended, when both women stared at her. “For, like, ten seconds.”

“At least you wear something on your lips,” Vash, the taller of the three, said, one finger lightly brushing at the coating on Luan’s bottom lip.

“It’s a lifesaver. Chapped lips in high winds and cold weather is the worst. Do I really have to wear makeup?”

“Yes,” Vash said. Both women emptied their bags of a wild, scary assortment of female products, including perfume bottles, nail polish, and things that Luan didn’t want anywhere near her eyes. She had to keep swallowing the urge to shove them both away with her magic, reminding herself that this was part of her duties. A disguise to get into the winter ball.

That was all this was. Still, she flinched multiple times when Natalie stabbed at her eye with one of those black-coated mini brushes, and coughed when Vash dabbed a fine powder onto her cheeks. When Natalie had finished with Luan’s eyes, she began furiously attacking Luan’s hair with a wet comb, and Luan decided that this pain was far worse than any needle approaching her skin.

“I don’t get why you two feel like you need to go through all this effort with me,” Luan complained, though she took discreet glances at herself in the mirror, starting to notice a real transformation from her pale, unadorned features.

“It’s very rare we get pretty women who have no idea how to hot themselves up,” Natalie replied, as the comb dislodged a snarl of hair. “So, too much of an opportunity for us to ignore. Plus, we know all about you, and your reputation from the academy.”

“Do you, now?” Luan said in a colorless voice, before wincing at another knot of hair scraping from her scalp.

“What she said,” Vash agreed. “Weren’t you almost expelled twice? What for?”

Luan’s lips knotted up slightly, unsure of their intentions. Neither seemed to bear any dislike towards her, but she wasn’t exactly a popular girl around these parts. She did what she had to do—and sometimes a little more as well. “I put one student in the med bay,” Luan said eventually. “For a good reason, in my opinion. Caught her dangling a servant off the edge of Azarus Isle because the servant didn’t give her the right kind of cupcake.”

“Oh...” Vash nodded. “Becky, right? Becky’s such a bitch.”

“That’s the one,” Luan said. “But she’s from a very good family, so people were more inclined to believe her than me and a servant. Lucky our teachers were a little more observant and made sure we didn’t have any lessons together. Second time...” Her fingers drummed the white porcelain sink bowl. “Less dramatic. Failing my grades because I couldn’t jump the way my teachers wanted, and I stopped trying at one point, because I knew I couldn’t do it. They train all the air witches the same way. I was scooped into the police academy instead, for witches more inclined to my sort of talent.”

“I thought all you air witches were the same, to be honest,” Natalie admitted, now fluffing up Luan’s hair, apparently satisfied with the result.

“No one person is the same. Even with magic,” Luan replied. “Everyone’s better at some things compared to others.”

“True,” Natalie agreed. The women fell silent for a moment as they made the finishing touches to Luan’s makeover. Luan examined the results, trying very hard not to be pleased by the result.

She wasn’t supposed to like this. It was something all the uppity people did. Yet… she looked practically nothing like her original self. The red lipstick was striking against her pale skin. Her hair appeared delicate and tufted, rather than a hacked-up mess. Her eyes threatened to jump out of her face with how magnified they were as a result of the mascara and shadow.

“We could do better with more time,” Vash said, packing away her goods, “but this will do.” Luan examined her dark pink nail polish, giving it a cautious sniff.

“Now, let’s show you to the men,” Natalie said, but Luan used her magic to waft her fur robes around her before she was exposed prematurely.

“Spoilsport,” Vash said.

They ate some pastry snacks before embarking towards the winter ball in the evening. Kerrick appeared a nervous wreck, though he’d kept his confidence until the moment he stepped outside, wearing a masquerade mask to conceal him from being instantly recognized upon the street. Perran grew into a sinuous gray dragon, followed suit by Lady Vash and Natalie, who were of similar size, though they had different creamy splashes upon their bodies. Luan quietly whistled at the sight and wondered briefly what Kerrick would appear like as a dragon. If he was smaller, bigger—if she’d be able to recognize him at a distance.

The three dragons crowded the street and awkwardly jumbled into line, as passersby gaped at them and swerved around. A few police patrols stared at them for longer than was comfortable, but ultimately didn’t seem to think too much of it. Luan scrambled on Perran’s back, and Kerrick did so as well. Being taller, he nestled behind her at the crook of Perran’s long, snake-like neck, and Luan instantly wished that he’d crawled onto one of the women instead, because him pressing into her had to be one of the most awkward and overly intimate feelings she’d had to endure. Especially knowing that under her robes was a dress a little too flimsy for normal tastes.

“Is this okay?” Kerrick muttered, even as Perran tilted an orb-like eye towards them, making sure they were settled.

“It’s fine,” Luan bit out between clenched teeth, though her stiffened body language spoke otherwise.

We’re supposed to be going together. I’m supposed to protect him. This is fine.

Gradually, as Perran began to plod through the street, claws clacking on the cobblestones, she realized that Kerrick was just as tense as she was, and he kept glancing around as if expecting to be recognized at any second.

“What are you so nervous about?” she breathed. “This was your idea.”

“That doesn’t mean I can’t be nervous about it,” Kerrick snapped. Perran took a huge step which caused Kerrick to lurch forward with Luan. He steadied himself on her shoulders. “I’m just not looking forward to the possibility of finding out my father was the one behind my, ah, recent imprisonment.”

Luan, tense from Kerrick’s touch, took some deep breaths, trying to focus instead on how warm the hands were, rather than how she wanted to blast Kerrick away from her back at terminal velocity. The prince would probably survive it, but gambling with his life wouldn’t exactly be the most intelligent choice she’d ever made.

After a few moments wobbling on Perran’s back, she felt the prince’s breath hot just behind her ear and hissed quietly at the bone-deep shiver it elicited from her. “You can relax, you know,” the prince said. “I’m not going to try anything. We’re all in this together.”

“You don’t have to press up so close to me,” she said in a harsh whisper, shifting her gaze slightly so that she saw him at the edge of her peripheral vision.

“It’s cold,” Kerrick said. “You’re not cold. I’m just leeching your warmth.”

“Nice excuse to feel me up,” she said, though admittedly, he hadn’t tried anything of the sort yet. Still, her cheeks flushed slightly, unused to such contact. People didn’t make a habit of touching Luan in any way, not even for a hug. A handshake was about the most intimate she’d managed.

“Not every interaction has to mean something bad,” Kerrick continued, his breaths trickling heat down her spine. “How come you’re so stiff, anyway? Got some dark, tragic past? You know about mine, I’m sure.”

Everyone did. The prince losing his mother, his father tumbling into grief, him getting neglected, until eventually he turned up at brothels like they were going out of fashion, and attended parties, wasting away family reputation for a family he no longer connected with. The only thing tragic about it to Luan was that maybe that family could have stayed together if the mother had made it.

“I’m not telling you,” Luan said, eyes fixed on the street, calculating they were about ten minutes away from the winter ball. The dragons could have flown, but it was better to be slow and steady, so that no one attempted to approach them or flag them down, and everyone assumed they were heading to the winter ball.

Every eye upon them was a potential enemy, and Luan wanted to keep her focus absolute,  to deal with the enemy as they came. There were a lot of police on the streets. Far more than usual in the last year or so, and tension underlined people’s faces in the bright orblights lining the lanes. Some shops were still open, with sellers attempting to beckon potential customers inside.

“I used to feel safe walking these streets,” Kerrick said, hands gripping tight on Luan again. “Amazing what a few months being locked up does to you, isn’t it?”

“I’m sorry it took so long for help to come,” Luan replied, sincere. Whatever she thought about the prince, he didn’t deserve to suffer like that. She gritted her teeth against the strange, fluttering sensation in her stomach, coursing through her veins.

She had to be careful not to get too comfortable with the prince. He’d spell out trouble for her. Someone like him didn’t have a great habit of sticking around, and someone like Luan didn’t have a great habit of sticking with anyone, either.

Not exactly a sky-blessed match.

“At least it came in the end. So, thank you for that. Truly.”

She could have sworn she felt the press of his nose against her scalp, but when she turned to look at him better, his head seemed to be at a respectful distance away. He regarded her with those caramel eyes, darker in the dim light of the streets.

“A warning to you, prince. If you try to flirt with me, you’ll find me to be a bad choice of flirt.”

“Oh, I don’t think you’re a bad choice at all,” he said. “But don’t worry. Nothing will happen that you don’t want.” He grinned at her, and she glared at him in return.

“I’m starting to wonder why you’ve been with so many women, Kerrick. Because you don’t have much of a technique for charming them, do you?”

“The dazzling smiles and hints of interest don’t do it for you?”

“Not really,” she said, though she’d be lying if she said it didn’t affect her at all.  She just wasn’t exactly used to people flirting with her. Especially someone of his status, with someone who worked the law for him.

“I suppose I’ll have to look for other ways of charming you, instead. Tell you what—we survive the ball, and I get reinstated instead of locked up or killed—maybe we can go on a date?”

“Seriously?” Luan’s jaw dropped. “Are you insane? Did you hit your head on something before we left?”

“No more than the sight of a pretty woman usually hits it,” he replied, and she groaned softly.

Another lurch from Perran caused Luan to grip his neck tightly, and the flickering, multicolored hues of the winter ball’s entrance plucked her attention. There were two separate lines, one for the regulars, and a VIP line for people like Perran, Vash, and Natalie. They strode up to the VIP line casually, Perran swaggering as if he belonged there, and the guards only gave them the barest of glances before admitting them through.

“What do you know—you were right. We can get in without an invitation after all,” Luan said, surprised at how easy it was. They didn’t even think about searching her or Kerrick. Could be some serious security breaching going on there, if they put so much blind trust in the dragons and the guests they brought. Kerrick’s hand lightly brushed her neck, apparently getting rid of a stray, trapped piece of hair there, and she held her breath. A combination of stifled breath and response to touch made her dizzy, alarmingly so.

Stupid rippling feelings arcing through her body.

Clearly, she didn’t do enough to keep her own desires under wraps, if she was acting like this from the contact with someone she barely knew or liked.

No. She wasn’t interested in Kerrick at all. Not interested in checking out what lay underneath all those clothes, how rough his beard might feel against her cheeks, if his lips would be soft or hard or pliable.

She blinked out of her brain when Kerrick’s smile became wide and lazy, as if he knew exactly what was going on there inside her head.

Inside the building, the dragons were asked to change back to their human forms. Kerrick and Luan crawled off Perran, checking out the bustling, shimmering ballroom, dome-shaped with an expensive, glittering crystal chandelier dangling from the center, where a mural of clouds was depicted, illuminated by orblights. The main color theme focused on red and gold, and people wore expensive, dazzling outfits, some which likely had cost thousands upon thousands of circs. Waiters with food platters wandered around, and Luan grabbed a small selection of pick-speared meat and cheese, chewing on them with relish.

Vash and Natalie seemed right at home in this atmosphere, with their glimmering dresses—Vash’s red with a large frame below her waist, Natalie’s black, more form-fitting like Luan’s—certainly more comfortable than Perran, whose eyes darted around for danger at every opportunity, and Luan, who didn’t want to take off her coat at all, despite the heat giving her a headache.

“Off this comes,” Kerrick said blithely, above the mandolins playing in the background and the soft murmur of conversation. He tugged at Luan’s coat, and she reluctantly parted with it, revealing the blue and silver ruffle dress at last. The robes had reached down to her legs, and she realized with a start that Kerrick hadn’t actually seen her expose her tattoos before.

He sucked in his breath, eyes traveling along her arms, and she imagined little whorls of flame left upon her skin from his searing gaze. He paced around her, seeing her large back tattoos in the flimsy, stringed dress back, and down her legs, where the spirals and swirls complemented her black, low heels. Even with bloomers under the dress, she felt very exposed with the fact that it ended just above her knees.

“I had no idea what you were hiding underneath all that,” Kerrick said softly, even as Perran shot an unimpressed glare Kerrick’s way.

“A body,” Luan said dismissively. “That just happens to have ink on it.”

Kerrick let out a soft laugh and ran a hand across his silver-gray mask. “Color me impressed. A talented, smart air witch with a smoking body. And tattoos that I’m more used to seeing on men...” He kept a careful distance from her, and to her slight dismay, and perhaps slight satisfaction, she saw she was getting cursory stares from the other men and women in the vicinity.

There seemed to be shifty characters in the crowd, people who didn’t quite look like they belonged. Too watchful, too tense, as if expecting disaster to strike at any moment. To Luan’s mind, she considered that an excellent time for the Conclave of Zamorka to strike would be right at the heart of the winter ball, with so many wealthy socialites clustered in one spot. If they could drop off a Creeping Rot bomb…

“Dance with me?” Kerrick held out a hand to her, as the mandolin players changed their tune to something slow, almost mournful. Luan’s first impulse was to snap no, but she swallowed it, instead allowing herself to be gathered into his arms. Her breath hitched in her throat when he held her at a respectful arm’s length distance, their hands resting on each other’s shoulders, and simply swaying from side to side like the other couples. It didn’t really feel like dancing. Luan expected dancing to be livelier and more energetic, not this slow boat rocking, the careful distance between them, and enough space to be able to look down at each other’s feet safely. From Kerrick’s vantage point, though, he likely caught a hint of her cleavage, and again, she was reminded how exposed she felt in this dress.

She couldn’t wait to squeeze back into her normal clothes and take to the air again, or creep through dangerous buildings to locate a new criminal and haul them in. Watch them pay for the crimes they never should have committed in the first place.

The longer they swayed together, without words, letting the soft notes of music weave an aria about their souls, the more her eyes took opportunities to flick over Kerrick’s form. He had a strange, cinnamon-like aroma to him, and was absently chewing on something that smelled like mint bark. His suit was rough and scratchy beneath her hands, and their height difference gave a small ache to her own muscles after a minute frozen in the same position. Something about his features aesthetically pleased her, but she couldn’t help but feel like she was dancing with an unknown, a person constructed entirely by tabloids and royalty.

Perhaps he was thinking something similar in that he didn’t know her, for he licked his lips, arresting her eyes to the movement, before saying, “Question. Why the tattoos? What do they mean to you?”

She flicked him a thin smile. “I wear my heart in ink. Because I’m not great at expressing otherwise.”

“I see,” he breathed, brown eyes wide in interest. “And what does your heart say?”

Luan debated only for a few seconds. Giving something away to him would mean he owned a tiny piece of her—but at the same time, it was already written upon her flesh for someone to figure out, if they stared for long enough. “I show patterns of fire and wind. The fire is for the justice I feel when I hunt down criminals. For the conviction I’m in the right job, that no matter what someone says, I know I wouldn’t be anywhere else. The winds are my magic, and they fan the flames. All the emotion there that I can’t express… I show it instead.” Her heart beat a little faster, knowing how intimate it sounded. But she’d long since stopped being embarrassed about her tattoos, because people always asked, and it became easier with each iteration to express.

But now she felt a strange concern with just how Kerrick might take the information.

“That’s… amazing,” he said, apparently at a loss for any other words. “Like, truly. You actually have a deep meaning to all this. You didn’t just walk into a tattoo parlor and decide that you were going to let yourself be stabbed with tiny needles.”

“Most people get tattoos for a reason,” Luan said, smiling in spite of herself. “Sometimes it’s the name of someone they love, a date that’s important to them, a quote that helped them. Other times its symbolic. Something important in their life.”

“Right.” He nodded, appearing to think deeply on the matter. A long, sad note resonated in the background, and some couples swayed so close to one another that their bodies were pressed in. Luan wondered for a brief moment what it might feel like to be pressed into Kerrick; if he would be warm, supple, or hard and uncomfortable.

She inhaled sharply through her nose. Focus on the job, Luan. The job. Kerrick continued to give her a curious smile, before he said, “Anything you’d like to know about me?”

“Uh…” She thought about all the newspaper clippings portraying the prince in a bad light. Showing him as someone lacking responsibility and disrespecting the throne. Someone who some people thought was better off missing. “Are you anything like what they show in the news? It paints you as… a ruffian, honestly.”

Kerrick snorted, and his fingers tightened on her jacket. “They take most of it completely out of context. I won’t deny that sometimes I do like to let loose… but I’m well aware of the smear campaign the journalists employ. I’ve simply been a very easy target for them over the years.”

“So what are you like?” Luan tried to reconcile the two separate images of the prince in her mind. The prince with multiple women draped over his arms, splashing frivolous amounts of money on them. And the prince who acted charming and sincere with her, flirting but not grabbing. Though maybe he didn’t grab simply because he knew he’d be losing a hand if he tried.

“Good question.” Kerrick’s mouth pursed, losing some of the warmth. “Honestly, I don’t know. I know what a lot of people think of me… but I don’t think I’m the person they believe. Just… well, it’s hard to persuade people when they already have a certain opinion of you.”

The music ended, and a loud clinking noise caused the ballroom to fall silent. Luan broke away from the prince’s attention and arms, and focused on top of the spiraling staircase, where several armored guards had made their appearance.

“Father,” Kerrick whispered, his hand clinging to Luan tightly, as if she were a lifeline. His fingers dug in, and Luan highly suspected there’d be bruises on her arm later. She let him hold on, though.

The king seemed emaciated, somehow. His eyes had a strange, feverish glint in the light, and his face twitched from side to side, as if expecting something to dart out of the shadows. Two people followed him, both fully encased in armor, so they had no way of telling who lurked within. For all they knew, the Zamorkans were concealed beneath all that. The king might be captive in plain sight, or he might be a willing participant in all this.

“You want to approach?” Luan whispered, even as the king launched into some welcoming speech, his arms open, his thick white robes spilling behind like miniature wings.

Kerrick took a few deep breaths, before he nodded. “I’ll do it. Stay with me?” His voice came out as a plea, and Luan gave him the most sympathetic look she could muster. Not that she was much of a sympathy girl.

“I will.” She let herself move with his steps, threading through the crowd. At the base of the steps, the security witches preventing entrance to the king barred their way. Both were air witches, and both hated Luan.

“Run along, psycho,” one of them hissed to her. Sharon. Storms, Luan hated Sharon.

“Can’t,” Luan hissed back. “I have someone important here about to reveal themselves.”

Taking it as his cue, Kerrick took off his mask and stared down at Sharon, whose face went slack with surprise. The other witch, Rhona, wasn’t much better. “Ladies,” Kerrick said, his voice taking on an authoritarian air—the kind that expected people to obey him at a moment’s notice. “I have returned from imprisonment. And I’d really like to speak to my father.”

Other people, noticing the prince, started pointing and whispering, along with punctuated gasps, and the king faltered in his speech, finally paying attention. The king’s face froze in complete surprise.

“Hello, Father,” Kerrick said, puffing himself up. He let go of Luan’s hand, but she remained close, ready to dig into her magic. Ready to protect.

Chapter Four – Kerrick

Fear sliced up his insides, making it hard to function. The man that was his father had a cold, pallid look about him. Like he’d been spending far too long on the gut rot in Undercity, or the drug dens, puffing smoke until his brains dribbled out. Certainly, his father now gave him an uncomprehending stare.

And in that stare, Kerrick had all the answers he’d been dreading.

His father had locked him up. It was him all along.

“You’re… you,” King Rezar stuttered, his eyes protuberant. One hand twitched uselessly, and his gaze swept to one of his armored guards.

“Prince Kerrick is safe!” Perran yelled above the whispering. “He was imprisoned for months, but now returns to us!”

Someone started clapping, perhaps Vash or Natalie, and about half the ballroom joined in. Again, Kerrick’s father looked frantic, wild.

“I… yes. Welcome back… son.”

“Very welcome, isn’t it?” Kerrick said, as the ballroom fell into silence. He took one step towards his father, and Luan slid in close behind. He sensed the tension in the woman and chanced a side glance to see her eyes fixed on the guards. Yes… she suspected the same as him. “You must have been so worried about me when I vanished. You must have been looking for me everywhere. Putting so much resources into finding me. And you know… I wasn’t that far from the palace. Not far at all.”

His father’s face paled further. “Of—of course I was looking for you, son.”

“Imagine if I vanished again, Father. Now that everyone here knows I’m safe. Imagine how people might react.”

One of the guards started forward, but froze, as if running into an invisible wall. Behind him, Luan wore a wolfish grin.

“What…” his father licked what seemed like parched lips, “what are you hinting at, son?”

“Oh, nothing. Going to hug me, Father? Because you missed me?” Kerrick stretched out his arms. The king trembled more violently.

“I, that is… public display…”

“I’ve been missing for months,” Kerrick bit out, and this seemed to prompt Rezar into placing his arms around Kerrick. He smelled like he hadn’t washed for a week, and the king’s muscles quivered in emotion, though Kerrick wasn’t sure which kind. Fear? Anger? Relief?

Again, the ballroom erupted into clapping, this time a little more passionate. Kerrick couldn’t help but notice both guards flopping, before moving up the stairs as if held up by strings. Luan walked sedately behind the guards.

“Just going to have a little chat with them,” she said cheerfully.

“What are you doing?” the king hissed, his arms still wrapped around Kerrick.

“Just making sure you’re not the corrupt old corpse I think you are,” Kerrick whispered into his father’s ear, though his heart pounded fast from his own daring. He wasn’t so used to defying his father directly. More used to indirect annoyances.

“You’ll pay for this, boy…” the king snarled, before withdrawing from his son and plastering on a huge grin. Kerrick watched as he attempted to pick up the threads of his abandoned speech. Kerrick waved to the crowd as he hastily followed after Luan, and Perran tagged along close by, flashing his police badge at those who tried to stop him. The staircase led to a series of grand, opulent rooms lined by a red carpet, and in the second room, after barging past a few bewildered servants, Kerrick caught Luan neatly divesting the guards of their helmets, revealing tufts of blond and red hair.

“Ugh. These guys are like roaches. Everywhere,” Luan said.

“Did you kill them?”

“No. I cut off their air supply and pinned them still with my magic until they fell unconscious. Then brought them here. I don’t think they’re alone, though. I feel like someone is searching for them now. They’re taking shallow breaths, they’ve approached the king…”

“Wait, you can sense this?”

“Yep.”

“Incredible,” Kerrick said, seriously impressed. Luan’s confident expression faltered for a moment, before she smiled.

“Isn’t it?”

Kerrick watched her examine the two guards, trying to find something incriminating on their persons. “You’d think they would just dye their hair and save all the trouble of being recognized on sight.”

“You’d think,” Luan agreed, whistling to herself. “But you know about the carpet matching the drapes? I’m not sure they’ll go far enough for that.”

“Wow. You look to see if they match down below?”

“Sometimes.” Luan tugged out a small leather purse from the red-haired woman. Opening it, she scowled. “Nothing. Just basic change. Well, we’re still going to arrest them.”

“On what charge?” Perran had materialized in the room and now watched over the scene with a frown on his haggard face. “We have nothing on these two but a suspicion. And we are supposed to be forging better relations with the Zamorkans at the moment. We arrest them and they protest their innocence, our entire task force will be eliminated before you know it.”

“How safe exactly do you think you’ll be, going back to the palace?” Luan asked cautiously, sitting next to the prince as he scowled at nothing. Perran was still rubbing his face, hardly able to believe the mess they’d all ended up in.

“Well, I don’t think I’d be killed…” Kerrick said dubiously, not exactly inspired with confidence. “But he’d probably lock me up and then coerce me to write letters to prove that I’m still alive and well.”

“You’re not going back there. Now we know he’s involved,” Perran snapped. “At this point, you’re our best counter to the corruption on the throne.”

“Come again?” Kerrick said, blinking rapidly. Images wreathed through his head, all of them unpleasant. He thought he knew what Perran was implying, but it was one of the last things he wanted to do.

“If needed, we must have a legal challenger for the throne, if the previous one is compromised in any way.”

At this statement, Kerrick’s heart dropped somewhere into his feet, and a sense of resignation stole over him.

“What does that mean?” Luan asked, probably picking up on Kerrick’s deflated attitude.

“It means,” Perran said softly, as if knowing the prince didn’t want to hear this, “that Kerrick will have to challenge his father to a Kingmatch.”

This couldn’t be the solution. Everything in Kerrick’s soul screamed against it, and he glared at Perran, clenching his hands into fists. “There has to be another way. Get those Zamorkans off my father, somehow. Gather a crowd of supporters and storm the palace. Kidnap my father or something. Not… that.”

How dare this police officer even suggest such a thing. Kerrick might not be on the best terms with his father, but that didn’t negate their bonds. Memories of happier times teased through his mind, when his father cared about his legacy. Before the fall of Serpent’s Isle. Before he became more withdrawn, more like a bag of broken porcelain, barely covered by skin. Leaving Kerrick to seek his pleasures and validation elsewhere.

“This is the only valid course of action we can take,” Perran said after a long pause.

“Storm you,” Kerrick spat. “Just storm you. I refuse.”

The police officer’s dark eyes went cold, and his face blank. “It’s probably best for you to go and mingle with the party now. Let everyone see you and speak to you, as I’m sure there will be many concerned about your absence.”

“I’m sure,” Kerrick said, before storming out of the room, Luan hot on his tail. He wanted to escape, to hide somewhere, to do anything except think about what that accursed police officer had said. “Go away,” he snapped at Luan.

The air witch didn’t flinch or act like she even heard him. She kept following.

“I don’t need you following me around.”

Luan smiled darkly. “Since you’re not my boss, you don’t get to tell me what I have to do.”

Morphing into dragon form and attempting to fly off wouldn’t work, either. Not with an air witch. Irritated, Kerrick appeared back in public and painted a smile onto his features as people approached him to talk.

Chapter Five – Luan

They evacuated Kerrick the very next day. They didn’t plan to give the king and his cronies time to arrange for some trumped-up charge, or time to completely block off Kerrick’s exit. Instead, they managed to stride right up to the border control and state that the prince intended to make a customary visit to the Undercity to promote public relations, and were able to sail right down into the lower suburbs, settling in the richer district and using their dwindling resources to hire protection.

He was withdrawn and sullen, and Luan didn’t have much time to talk to him about it, as she needed to begin reconnaissance missions back into Azarus to gauge the danger of the palace. So far, their task force hadn’t been canceled, and no one had attempted the jump on them, but Perran wasn’t discounting that something might happen anyway. Officer Haut from the team manned the main quarters, since Luan and Perran spent most of the time either staying with Kerrick in the Undercity, or at Perran’s house in Azarus, using Luan’s abilities to get in close to the palace without being detected and trying to figure out just how compromised the palace was.

Kerrick continued to make public appearances, slowly rebuilding his popularity/infamy again, but Luan definitely noticed the prince kicking back drinks when he was settled in the Undercity manse at night.

She figured he was still reacting badly to the news about a Kingmatch, but quietly considered taking away his drinks all the same. And on another arranged public meeting, this time within the Undercity itself in a high-end bar, Kerrick at first flat out refused to go.

“I’m not your little puppet, to be paraded about on a whim,” Kerrick snapped, one leg folded over the other, cradling a bottle of whiskey in his lap. His usually elegant hair flopped in a mess, and his eyes, still clear, simmered with resentment.

“Like I’ve said, I don’t really care what you think. These are the orders. And I have to obey my orders, even if that means tailing a spoiled prince around another incredibly boring party,” Luan said, crossing her arms and matching the prince’s glare. She noted how the top two buttons of his shirt were undone, the shirt untucked, draping over his black belt and pinstriped black and white pants. He’d already dressed for the party, but then seemed to think it didn’t matter.

“Yeah, yeah, I’ve heard it. You don’t care about anything. Just your job. Like you’re a machine or something.”

“Not a machine,” Luan said coolly. “Just someone very dedicated to her job.” She knew better than to rise to any needling. Nothing but the job mattered. If she couldn’t win on personality, on her talking uncomfortable truths that people hated to hear, on her abundant lack of kindness—then she at least held power in professionalism. And Perran believed her to be the best officer he’d ever worked with.

“You know, I was starting to like you,” Kerrick said, now taking a languid sip of his bottle, before pointing it her way. “You might be a bit of a hailstone, but you did seem like you had a heart buried underneath that impeccably tailored exterior.”

Impeccably tailored? Luan pretty much just slung on her officer’s uniform and let the laundry services handle her clothing. Nothing impeccable about that. “I’m not particularly known for having a heart. Unless you haven’t heard all the rumors about me.”

Kerrick smiled thinly, the mirth not transferring to his eyes. He rubbed the back of his neck. “Can’t be any worse than mine.” He tapped the chair next to him. The room he stayed in was small, with four scattered armchairs, a few wooden desks, and some bookshelves. A study room mostly inclined towards those focusing on academics. Although the manse was big and opulent for the Undercity, it was nothing compared to the sheer grandeur of the floating cities above. It had a decidedly utilitarian feel, with everything there for an exact purpose other than being pleasing to the eye. “Come. Sit with me.”

Luan, who had been fully intending on finding an excuse to break away, talk with Perran, and get some food, hesitated, heart now picking up pace in that annoying way it sometimes did if she allowed her attention to focus on Kerrick for too long. Even something about the way he sprawled out on the armchair, decadent and unraveled in his appearance, did something to her. And she most certainly did not like having these additional surges of emotion in her body. At all.

But something in his expression made her scrap her carefully laid plans, and with a sigh of resignation, she stalked over to the armchair and perched in it, ready to escape. “Okay. Sitting with you.”

“Great.” He offered her his drink, which she declined. “Now, I know how you like the hard-hitting questions, so I’m just going to fire them at you. Why have you been avoiding me for the past few weeks?”

“Busy,” Luan replied promptly, hands gripping the edges of her armchair. “What with the investigations into the palace going on and making sure your security’s airtight when you go to another one of those endless, boring gatherings where rich people talk about that brand-new exotic statue they bought for thousands of circs, or how drunk they got on century-old wine.”

“Not all our conversations are like that,” Kerrick replied with a wry smile, one eyebrow raised. “And it’s not entirely my fault you keep declining to engage in conversation with me when I offer.”

“I need to keep my wits about me,” Luan said, and instantly, she realized she’d made a mistake in her wording, because Kerrick’s eyes lit up.

“You need to keep your wits about you, do you? Well, I suppose talking to a prince can be very distracting,” Kerrick said, entirely too innocently.

“Yes, especially if that prince insists on trying to get his bodyguard drunk,” Luan said sweetly.

Truthfully, since the memory of their dancing together, Luan had become distinctly aware that her professionalism might be at risk if she allowed that kind of close contact to be regular.

She knew the prince was interested in her. For some inexplicable, messed-up reason. A person who everyone else might struggle to bat an eyelid for if she ever turned up dead at some point, which, given her line of work, was always a possibility. And Luan, who was not used to that kind of attention, knew from an entirely professional point of view that someone like her risked attaching too hard.

She saw it all the time in her criminals and victims. The moment someone offered a scrap of affection in an otherwise emotional void, those people clung like imprinted baby ducklings. It was how abusers controlled their victims in the many cases Perran investigated. It was how obsessive spouses and flings might end up stalking their lover at night without permission.

Luan didn’t entirely trust herself not to get enamored by affection, and she knew with a high-profile public figure like Kerrick, she might as well sign her own death warrant. He might think it friendly flirting, he might see nothing wrong with his attitude, but Luan knew better.

“I just want you to loosen up a little. You’re always so tightly wound.”

“So would you be, if you had to search for assassins in the shadows. Or are you suggesting that I don’t do my job properly?”

“Ah, storm it with your job. Maybe I’d prefer to get to know you.” His eyes flickered with some unreadable emotion, and his mouth twisted into a thin line. “You’re about the only person these days who seems genuine.” He swigged his drink with more vigor than before, wiping his mouth afterward. “I always hated the court life, and the fakery of it. Then there’s you, all abrasive and thrilling, confident in yourself, not afraid...”

Luan’s grip tightened, nails digging into the leather of her armchair. She was torn about three different ways now, from wanting to leave the room with an excuse, saying something cruel and hurtful, and throwing all the truth she knew at him. Along with the fact that her eyes were busy taking him in, from the smooth curve of his jaw and light stubble, to the intense darkness in his eyes, framed by messy hair. Flesh peeked from underneath his white shirt, and more of that horrible wriggling sensation grappled her insides.

Shit.

This was bad. This was trouble, and not the kind of trouble Luan was used to. “I can’t...” Let this interfere with my job. She clamped her jaw on the words in the last second, instead coming out with, “There’s some things I’m not so great at, Kerrick.”

He leaned forward, all sinuous interest, and slight panic went through Luan as she watched the movement, and her breath halted for a moment. “Like what? Tell me. Talk to me.”

“This,” she said, gesturing vaguely between them.

He stared at her for a long moment, and she fidgeted nervously, hating her lack of control, but also curious beyond measure to hear what he had to say. “You mean with the fact that I find you attractive?”

“Yes!” she burst out, finally remembering how to breathe. “I don’t get it. You have plenty of options, plenty of more… emotionally available people. None of them with a habit of torturing and killing people. And you see I keep pushing you away, but you’re still interested. And I really, really don’t get it.”

The prince chuckled, bobbing his head as he listened, but held up a hand when Luan swelled in annoyance and humiliation. “Who wouldn’t be curious about someone like you? You’re nothing like I’ve ever encountered before. You’re like this little tight ball of intensity. You’re dangerous...”

Dangerous. Luan felt slightly sick. Is that it? He just thinks I’m dangerous? A cheap thrill? Then she got annoyed at herself for reacting like that. Not that she could complain. She got cheap thrills from her line of work as well. She mulled over the words for longer, before mentally agreeing with him.

This made more sense, though. Yes. Much more sense. He wasn’t attracted to her, just the allure of someone different, and outside his normal sphere of influence. “I suppose I can get why that’s interesting to you. Can relate to it, even.”

“There doesn’t have to be a relationship between us,” Kerrick said, his eyes darkening further, his breaths becoming deeper. He leaned closer to her, as if he wanted to cross the distance between them. “There doesn’t have to be any commitment. Any interference with your job. I’d just like to get to know you a little more.”

She shuffled away from him, though her body screamed at her to close the distance, take him up on his invitation. “I get that you’re probably working up some frustration over there, but you must be mistaken if you think I’m the kind of person who throws herself at anyone who shows interest.”

Even though that was true. Very, horribly true, because Kerrick was showing her interest, and she certainly was contemplating it. Contemplating doing something different from everything she’d ever done as well.

He’s a prince, your mark, under your protection. You don’t sleep with the job. Keep it professional. The word became a mantra in Luan’s mind, but she stiffened when Kerrick got up at last and covered the distance between them, hands gripping her arm rests, body leaning forward.

“Funnily enough, neither am I,” he said, his voice gravelly, his eyes lazy with confidence, along with a half-smile. She was slammed with his scent, musky and with a hint of aftershave. “But I just want you to know, I’m interested. If you’re not, however, I’ll back away. Right now, though, I think you are interested. At least, I hope so.” His smile turned into a grin, and Luan felt oddly in that moment that Kerrick had just handed his heart to her.

For all his talk about keeping it casual, just being interested because she was different, there was an undercurrent there. Something Luan sensed, but didn’t quite comprehend.

And as much as she wanted to, she knew she couldn’t lie. Even if the truth made her mouth unbearably dry, and the less familiar sensation of tightness clutch around her lungs. “I am interested, prince. I’m just not so sure it’s a good idea.”

“Fair,” he said, grin widening. “I get that. I don’t think I’m a good choice, either, if that makes you feel any better.”

“You don’t?” Now it was Luan’s turn to be surprised. Even with Kerrick hovering over her in a rather compromising position, she found the opportunity to wrench herself away from the sheer presence of him, the subtle pull of his voice, to say, “You’d be the first page boy of someone’s choice. I’m sure people like… princes, or imagining… princes doing things.” Which she certainly wasn’t imagining right now.

“People want a bite of the throne through me,” Kerrick said, his words turning into a growl, expression shifting into something else which Luan didn’t recognize. She wasn’t exactly the best at reading people. To her, Perran had the same face when he was angry, thinking, and sad. “So I find it easier just to engage on a casual basis and make it very clear that this is my intention. I rarely sleep with the same person twice, because I don’t want them forming an attachment, or thinking they have a chance. Because even if they say they’re fine with being casual, I don’t entirely trust them. Ulterior motives and all.”

Oh. “You realize that if this is your attitude, if anything happens between us, that’s going to make cooperation significantly more difficult.” She raised one eyebrow at him. “Also, you’re contradicting yourself. You say you want casual, but you don’t want to sleep with the same person twice. So, what you mean is that you want one-night stands, then to never see the person again.”

Kerrick frowned. His eyes, which had seemed rather lost in exploring her, regained some focus. “Wait. No. I mean… there are a lot of people I wouldn’t want to see more than once. But there are some… I’d be more than happy to continue with on a casual basis.”

“Like me?” She threw it out there, trying on a confident smile, and feeling like she was completely messing it up.

“Yeah,” he said, a rather wicked smile covering his lips. “I could definitely see myself interacting with you more than once.”

She let out a rather breathy, nervous chuckle in response. As Kerrick began to move closer, potentially to kiss her, she sprang up a palm to hold him away. Her voice came out much higher pitched than usual. “Okay, hold on there, dragon boy. We still have a party to go to.”

Confusion covered Kerrick’s face, but he nodded and took himself away from the danger zone. Luan released a silent exhale of relief, and the knot in her stomach untangled.

“Sorry,” he said. “I was getting ahead of myself. Was I—was I being too forceful? Did you not want…?”

“Later, Kerrick.” She got off the armchair, her legs feeling rather weak, though she managed a straight, nonchalant stride. Surely, he had to be able to hear her galloping heartbeat from over there, but he made no sign he could. Then, taking pity on the knitted confusion still lining his features, she said, “You weren’t too forceful. Don’t worry. We can talk more on this another time.”

He gave a rather hopeful smile at that, and she left the room, chaotic emotions churning inside. She didn’t want to quite admit to Kerrick that the main reason she’d suddenly panicked and pushed him away was because she had no experience.

She simply had no clue how to be intimate, or how to process the complex emotions whirring. On top of the fact that she wanted to stay professional, that she knew it was a bad idea, and that a part of her still couldn’t understand why he’d be interested in her, even when he’d explained that he liked the danger around her.

Not to mention her own fear she might cling too strongly. Like the people she’d been forced to save or kill. Aware that people craved a connection. Even, apparently, people like her.

I feel like I’m about to explode, she thought irritably. Storms, it was awful, being human sometimes. Being little bags of emotion trapped in skin. Pretending to be rational and calm when all it took was one flip of the chemicals inside, and entire personalities changed.

She knew the sensible thing, right now, would be to suggest to Perran that he find another person to guard Kerrick. That she suspected her own emotions were compromised.

For once, though, she didn’t want to do the sensible thing at all.

* * *

The party, as usual, bored the brains out of Luan. She just didn’t get how all these people enjoyed flocking together, exchanging nonsense words, regaling each other with stories when most of them didn’t really care about the stories at all. They were here simply to make connections, to find lovers, to look successful. They were all about appearances, and Luan hated it with her very soul.

Probably why she could count all her friends on one hand, if she was being honest with herself. Kerrick, as usual, was entertaining a flock of women and some well-dressed men, resembling the perfect caricature of a popular prince, trying to redeem himself from wilder ways, all sunbeam smiles and light laughter, as if he loved every single insipid word that came from his audience’s lips.

Luan, meanwhile, scowled appropriately from her corner, in her officer’s uniform, so there could be no mistake about who she was. She had a drink-for-show and made absolutely no attempt to engage in any kind of conversation with anybody. They certainly didn’t, either, giving her a wide berth. Luan didn’t exactly exude a welcome aura, nor feel particularly inclined to, if ever. She screamed intimidation and danger. Which, according to Kerrick, some people were attracted to.

She wished she didn’t have to attend all these endless gatherings, though. She knew it was important that Kerrick increase his influence, so that when the challenge came, there would be no surprise that he coveted the throne early. Plus, he got to find out the general mood of  the nobility, above and below, and their reflections of the king. From what Luan understood, most people believed the king had become reclusive and anti-social, though they blamed the death of his wife for his steady decline into such dark depths. They didn’t see the twisted hands of the puppeteers behind the throne, directing and sowing chaos in their lands. All in tiny ways. Extra decrees. Increased security protocols, slightly more people being rejected aid and chances of redemption, and more executions to free up spaces in cells. Stirring up hatred against Zamorka, which had only recently been patched up by the Elegant’s exploration into unknown lands.

More and more people knew that the Zamorkans weren’t monstrous, evil spellcasters, intent on corrupting them all and spreading death. Just a small, destructive minority that hated their own country almost as much as everyone else’s.

But even then, still waters ran deep, and not everyone knew the truth. People seemed to grasp aspects of the truth, but never quite bundle it together into one thing.

Luan certainly didn’t know the full story, either. Just the pervasive idea that something was wrong, terribly wrong with this country, and it originated within the king’s isle, where all the laws gradually changed. Problems kept occurring throughout the region. First with the Creeping Rot, appearing when it shouldn’t have appeared. The apparition of the red woman that only those of Zamorkan blood could witness, who was the source of the cure for the Creeping Rot, located deep in Zamorka itself. The floating islets in the distance contaminated too far out of reach for others to assist with, and the turmoil within other foreign countries, like the ruined border kingdom next to them, and Zamorka’s Leavenport dealing with insurgents.

The same insurgents that were here. Even now, Luan didn’t understand their true purpose. They seemed to hate the natural order of things. They didn’t want there to be an alliance between the Undercity, the Six Isles, and Leavenport. And they certainly didn’t want the cure for the Creeping Rot to be found.

Stirring hatred. Maybe it was just hate for hate’s sake. Maybe some people just grew so disillusioned that they didn’t care if the whole world burned.

Biting her bottom lip, Luan examined Kerrick, her eyes primarily fixated on his back, on the proud, confident way he stood, and how he elicited smiles from the people around him. There were others that glowered at Kerrick; he wasn’t completely popular. But someone of his status and influence would always attract admiration, envy, and opportunity.

Some people eyed Luan as well, discreetly, recognizing she was here with him, maybe wondering what kind of power she had. One air witch Luan identified from her academy days glared at Luan with open hostility.

Wonderful, Luan thought, attention drifting back to Kerrick. With boredom, her mind fluttered to other places, though she needed to keep drawing herself back to reality, so she didn’t abandon her duties completely. Still, it was… interesting to think about him. To consider this man, this dragon shifter, this prince, and slowly correlate the image of this charming, flirting royal, to the knowledge that he was interested in her.

It didn’t fit, somehow. Whatever… curiosities floated in her would need to be suppressed. She needed to keep her head in the present, and not think of flimsy scenarios, possibilities, and impossibilities.

She scowled at a man who pushed his way through the gathering, heading towards her, while friends laughed and cheered behind him.

“You look like you’re in need of some fun,” he said, eyes flashing in a wicked way. “Sitting there all moody. Gotta loosen up, right?”

“I’m not here for fun,” Luan replied. “I’m here to do my duty.”

She smelled a familiar, wretched stench of alcohol upon his breath, a loved stink of the hopeless and the abusers, the abused and the escapers, and drew herself further away from him. She hated alcohol, seeing the devastating effects of it firsthand, but at the same time, she tolerated one drink on occasion, recognizing people bonded over it. And her colleagues in the task force always insisted, so she figured it would make them feel at ease.

“Bet I can make you have fun,” he slurred, not taking her abrasive attitude as a good enough reason to leave her alone. She caught more of his features—smooth, baby-like face, narrow, brown eyes, and far too much arrogance in that expression for her liking. Even a storming prince didn’t have so much bottled pride.

“Just admit you lost the bet with your idiot friends,” Luan said, calmly lifting her for-show drink and giving him a mocking toast, “and save yourself the bother of needing to deal with someone who doesn’t care.”

The wealthy man’s face contorted into something ugly. Luan anticipated it and grinned wickedly inside.

“Do you know who I am? Do you know who you’re refusing?”

A figure slid into the thin gap between them, oozing calm. “Hello, what seems to be the problem here?”

The man squinted at Prince Kerrick, who now provided an effective arm barrier between the two of them. Luan felt a momentary twinge of disappointment. She’d been looking forward to teaching this idiot a lesson.

“Nothing,” the man said in a sullen voice. “Just trying to give this woman a good time.”

“She’s my bodyguard, and I’ll thank you not to hit on her,” Kerrick said with a heavy rumble behind his words. Luan could almost imagine the dragon stirring up inside, threatening to unleash itself. Thankfully, the man had enough wits about him to gather the very serious threat of the prince, or perhaps he just wasn’t up to defying those at the top of society’s hierarchy. Luan gave the man a tight smile as he backed off, before exhaling in frustration behind Kerrick.

“That wasn’t fair,” she said. “He was about to liven up my party, as he believed.”

Kerrick chuckled, turning to face her. “Your idea of fun might not be everyone else’s. I figured I should step in before something unfortunate happened to that man.”

“Probably for the best,” Luan murmured, and they shared a more genuine smile.

“You know, you can join in, instead of sitting all hunched up back here like some village freak.”

“I have absolutely zero interest in the brain-melting conversations you and your compatriots mill through,” Luan replied easily. “And I suspect it’ll make it harder for you to associate with other people if you have me standing behind you with a face like a thundercloud.”

“I wouldn’t quite describe it like that,” he said, his eyes darkening slightly. Once again, she was made acutely aware of his presence, the space he took up, the authority he commanded. Of course, everyone had a presence, but his somehow seemed to fill up the entire room, making it hard to focus on anything else but him. The effect of being raised up, Luan supposed, as one of the most important people in the kingdom.

“How do you feel about Perran’s plan, now?” she said, taking a languid sip of beer, an insouciant smile on her lips. He’d been digging in his heels since the start, but following along with their suggestions to mingle anyway, and she knew he was gradually coming to accept his role. She still partially expected him to object vehemently.

“Unhappy.” The brief mirth in his face fizzled out. “Like I’m a puppet to this whole charade, but I know that whatever end I’m at, it will likely have to result in a fight against my father.” He glanced around, as if checking to see if anyone was eavesdropping. They locked gazes again for another lingering moment, before parting.

There was a brief sense of loss, but she swallowed it, slipping back into her cool, nonchalant attitude. People examined her in a different light, seeing the interaction between them. Come to think of it, they’d been standing quite close, hadn’t they? She’d been leaning forward to him, and his arm was inches from brushing her own.

That didn’t mean anything, of course, but she wondered if it might be construed as something else to the watchers.

The party itself stretched on, two more hours going down the drain, and Luan went through a total of two drinks, sipping them at a glacial pace. She’d much rather be risking her life in the shadows outside the palace, sneaking in, listening to the breaths of others, sparing a wide berth for those risks, and delving into the deepest secrets the palace had to offer.

“Boring, isn’t it?” Luan’s attention shifted to a young woman with blonde streaks in her hair. Briefly, Luan recognized her as the life witch, the one on the Elegant who had been an instrumental part of bringing the cure for the Creeping Rot.

“What a surprise to see you here,” Luan smiled, seeing people glower at her further. “You might not want to be spotted with me. I don’t generate a whole lot of sympathy from others.”

“I’m an Undercity orphan,” Alex said by way of reply. “I’m just as bored with these people as you are.”

“Something we have in common.” Luan stretched out over two chairs, one leg hooked over the back rest in an almost provocative manner. “You’re here with Meridas?”

“Unfortunately,” Alex said, gesturing to her partner, who was slowly making his way through the crowd to engage with Kerrick. “Then I saw you over here, and I just couldn’t resist. You’re quite the famous killer. Stealing the breath from people’s lungs. Interrogating them for hours, days, weeks.”

“You, meanwhile, are the famous healer. Saving people from the brink of death,” Luan said, a warm glow buzzing through her, realizing she was enjoying this little exchange. “Complete opposites, I’d say.”

“Yes.”

“Wonder if your magic can compensate for the vacuum I form around your body.” Luan pursed her lips, contemplating the manner seriously. Alex was pretty much the only life witch around for potentially thousands of miles.

“I’m not sure, and I might not be so inclined to test it out.” Alex didn’t seem alarmed at Luan’s statement. “I should dislike you. No one should take so much joy in killing.”

“But if someone does,” Luan drawled out, finding herself going through her third drinker faster than usual, the buzz of satisfaction mingling with alcohol, “then why not let them have a job where their personality is put to good use? Better to have someone like me than someone who will experience a psychological break over everything they’ve done.”

Alex raised her eyebrows, hazel eyes wide, as if she hadn’t considered this possibility before. She swigged at her own drink, a darker liquid than Luan’s choice. “Well, I suppose it’s better to have you as a cop than a criminal.”

“There’s always a very thin line between what makes a cop and a criminal,” Luan said, now drumming her fingers on the table. “We find we have to think like criminals to understand how to trap them. The main difference between us is the choices we make. The actions we follow through with. Now… any particular reason that you’re here, attending a party? Someone like a life witch is far too valuable to waste on simple court visits to places where they don’t want to be.”

“That would be telling,” Alex replied, though it was without animosity.

“Something even a member of a police task force shouldn’t know?” Luan lowered her voice further, even though no one could hear them anyway. “Say, something like those no-good, rotten Conclave saboteurs?”

Alex heaved a sigh. “Well, I’m here to showcase what a good Zamorkan looks like. Even though I was never raised as such, I at least look the part.” She indicated her blonde locks, her lighter eyes, her oddly full features. “And I’m here to listen if there are Zamorkans hiding among us. I can… we can sense each other when nearby.” Her lips thinned at this statement. “The magic in our blood connects us.”

“Huh,” Luan said, brain now spinning with ideas, working overtime.  “Someone like you would be exceedingly useful in the task force. Maybe you should pop around sometime.”

“Maybe I will.” They both examined each other cautiously, before turning to face their charges. Meridas commanded a presence of his own, but it paled compared to Kerrick’s, Luan thought. Everyone else paled in comparison, to be honest.

For one brief, insane moment, Luan imagined herself dressed up like the woman currently speaking to Kerrick, with dark, wavy hair, earrings, and a proud, noble bearing. Her imagination went beyond what the woman did. Laying a hand on his shoulder. Leaning close to whisper into his ear, watching as his eyes glinted with something more than just polite interest. Luring him away to some hidden corner to dance their lips together and more.

This is what twenty-four years of sexual frustration does to you, Luan thought in irritation. She’d always kept herself under perfect control, always had ways to vent any potential frustrations that built up in her body.

At least, until now. Being in the vicinity of this prince was dangerous, and she became more doubtful of the notion that she might be able to control her actions.

Because she knew what he wanted—and having that knowledge elicited a kind of curiosity inside. It was one thing to doubt that the other person might be interested. It was another thing to realize that the only person keeping them apart was herself.

It was all her decision.

“I’ve heard rumors that Kerrick’s planning to challenge his father to a Kingmatch,” Alex said, completely unaware of Luan’s shifting mood. “People in the courts are whispering about it. That Kerrick’s mellowed and changed, and his father is becoming more irrational and crazier with the decrees he metes out.”

“You heard that, huh?” Luan kept her tone decidedly neutral, though her nerves rattled. This was what was meant to happen… but if the rumors were flying so thick and true already, then that likely meant the king and his spies already knew. They could suspect, but without solid evidence…

“You’ll have to keep that prince safe,” Alex whispered then, placing one tentative hand on Luan’s shoulder. “Because I can think of plenty of reasons to take him down before the challenge ever manifests.”

“Me, too,” Luan agreed, vowing to stop herself from getting distracted, and to not allow her boredom to weaken her ability to protect another.

She and Alex continued to exchange easy conversation, both taking solace in one another’s company, rather than the colorful flock surrounding them, and when it came time to leave, they shook hands and parted, leaving Luan to trail behind Kerrick until he shifted, and she clambered onto his back to fly back to the Undercity manse in the northern district.

She liked the scaly and feathery feel of Kerrick’s skin in dragon form, the way his steel-gray body rippled in the night and his wings beat a rhythm on either side of her. It felt intimate in a way, being so close to someone and touching them, but not doing anything further. The alcohol continued to slosh through her body, leaving all her nerves tingling and her brain muggy, but not muggy enough to stop her from abandoning duty. The cool night winds caressed her body, and she closed her eyes, taking in the life of the world, the very atmosphere that allowed them to breathe and thrive.

Sometimes, she thought idly, life really did come down to the simple things. When everything else was a burden, sometimes only the freedom of nature eased those weights. Sometimes it felt beautiful. Other times, it reminded Luan that for all her confidence, her poise, she was close to no one.

Back in the manse, the strange mood kept her under thrall, and she barely paid any attention to Kerrick’s status report about the connections he’d made, and the intel gathered from the other nobles. She slumped in an armchair opposite him, and he offered her a drink, which she refused, because she was already a little over the edge, and didn’t want to fall further and lose what little control she possessed.

“I’d rather not end up being like some foolish teenager and sicking up everything because of excessive alcohol consumption,” Luan said, holding her palm out to Kerrick.

“You did look like you were having fun at least,” he said, taking the offering away and settling back into his own armchair. “You and Alex seem made of the same stuff. It was nice to have you doing something other than glowering like you’re one thought away from committing murder.”

“I wouldn’t be a very good bodyguard if I didn’t look intimidating now, would I?” Luan said with a smile. She watched as Kerrick’s eyes traced the tattoos along her arms, and the barest hint at her ankles, and his pupils expanded. A warm rush flooded her body that had nothing to do with the alcohol.

Oh, storms no, she thought, an edge of panic to her emotions. Maybe she was closer to losing control than she previously believed. Kerrick staring at her like that did all sorts of things. Like make her aware of every breath she took, of the way her hand jumped with her quickening pulse, and a strange heat trapping itself between her thighs.

Even as her mind protested, it also conjured up salacious thoughts, of her peeling off all her clothes, letting his eyes rake over her inked skin, warm shivers running through her body as his fingertips traced the patterns. They said lust induced a haze, a fever of the mind and soul, that transformed someone from rational and controlled to desperate and needy.

“That’s true. I always feel bad, though, seeing you like that. I want you to smile. Selfish as that sounds. To see a part of my world and not be left out of it.”

“No offense, prince, but I think you dislike that part of your world almost as much as I do. You’re just better at hiding it.”

His eyes went impossibly soft, and had a hint of another expression, something she couldn’t identify, but something that sent a frenzied jolt through her stomach. “You may be right, there. But it’s easy to remain with what’s familiar, isn’t it?”

She didn’t tear her eyes away from him. Something changed in the atmosphere. His lips parted slightly, and one eyebrow raised in an unspoken question. I can’t lose control.

“Please stop looking at me like that,” Luan whispered, her heart feeling as if it were wedged somewhere in her throat, and everything she’d eaten today churning in her stomach with the alcohol.

“Like what?” Kerrick said, though he didn’t change his expression. Didn’t take it away from those big, soft eyes that took in everything and more, regarding her in a way she’d never seen anyone else do.

“Like...” She struggled to get out any more words. Part of her wanted to close the distance, to do something about whatever it was that ravaged her insides, and the other part wanted to leave the room, to not have to handle any additional complications to her complicated life. “… Like you think I’m the only person that matters. With your stupid big eyes or whatever it is you do.”

The prince chuckled. The sound came out in a low burst. “Heh. Do my eyes get that big?” He touched around his eyelids for good measure, and Luan let out a small, strangled chuckle of her own.

“I don’t know how else to describe it. You’re always… looking like that, with that smile, and those eyes, and I never know how I should react. So it’s easier to just… ignore it or be mean or...”

“Are you scared of me?” Kerrick’s eyebrows both quirked up this time, and a rather delighted smile lifted his lips. “You look like you’re one sentence away from fleeing.”

“I...” Sounds right, she thought wildly, her heart palpitating faster. She got up hastily, intending to use movement to calm down. Her left knee chose that moment not to work properly, and Luan, the powerful air witch who could kill someone just by practically looking at them, stumbled forward, before righting herself, and feeling even more stupid and desperate than before. “Shit, I don’t know what’s happening...”

“I might.” His voice went low, low enough to send a shiver down her spine, and to quicken the breaths from her lungs. He took slow, careful steps forward after getting up from his chair, palms facing her as if expecting her to bolt or attack at any moment. It felt like an invisible line between them was wrapping them up tighter. His strong hands scraped along her shoulders, before cradling her face, and Luan froze, her brain refusing to process what was happening. It took all her strength to stay still, to register the nervous pulse of her heart, the strange yearning for the distance between them to close even further, though they were so close already.

“Do you know what happens next?” he whispered, his mouth inches from her lips, his dark eyes boring into hers. As if he could see every lie she’d ever told, and understand the crux of the emotions within, more than Luan herself could ever figure out. “When someone stares at you with big eyes, as you say, and comes close, and touches your face in this way?”

One long, electrifying silence hung between them. Luan knew she, both of them, were hovering at the precipice of something. He’d thrown control into her hands. She could step off… wherever they were, and have no idea where to go next, except it would be with him. Or she could extract herself from his arms and tell him that there never would be anything more. Their relationship was that of a prince and a cop. A cop charged with protecting him, with making sure he stayed alive long enough to do the challenge against his father. That whatever she thought lay between him, whatever she’d somehow encouraged—it’d be crushed forever. Left in the dirt and never allowed to grow.

Just thinking about saying no sent a horrible spasm through her body. I don’t want to say no to him at all.

Before her brain had time to catch up and tell her this was a very, very bad idea, she reached forward and up, pressing her lips against his. An unspoken answer to his question. A terrifying, can’t-take-back step forward into unknown territory, where he might accept or reject her, or do both. It scared her far more than anything else she’d ever done, and that was saying something.

Heat rushed through her when his lips returned the favor, moving softly at first, testing the waters, and his fingers fluttered around her face, hooking into her hair. The distance between them reduced itself to nothing, and her chest pressed into his. She gasped against his mouth, and that tightened the grip in her hair. Their breaths meshed together as they snatched air between kisses, always returning to explore further, though Luan felt impossibly clumsy with the way she kissed, clacking their teeth a couple of times, not quite in sync.

He lightly used his grip in her hair to create distance, and they gazed into one another’s eyes for a moment, doing nothing else but breathe, as their hearts raced, and Luan’s brain attempted to process the influx of emotion.

“We’re going to have to get you to practice those kisses,” he said rather breathlessly, though he didn’t look annoyed. Luan, who had tensed at first, relaxed and gave him a rueful smile. Thankful he wasn’t talking her down because of her appalling lack of skill. Her experience with forays into romance could be counted on one hand. Which, come to think of it now, seemed desperately sad. It never bothered her before. She never worried about it, because she didn’t need romance to do her job well.

But now?

“I have no idea what I’m doing.”

“I’ll teach you,” he assured her, his fingers teasing through her short hair. She closed her eyes as they brushed her scalp, before digging into the flesh in soothing motions. Warm ripples floated through her body, down her spine, and she tilted her head, chasing the contact. “Though I won’t pretend to be an expert kisser, either. Just… follow my lead. Think of it like our dance at the ball.”

She remembered the close contact then, so near yet so far, and spending too much time lost in one another’s eyes. “All we did was sway sideways. That hardly qualifies as a dance.”

“It’s still being with your partner, matching their rhythm,” he said, and she felt the faintest brush of lips against her temple. Each little touch sank into her, leaving a burning trail across her skin, causing all the little hairs upon her body to prickle.

“Okay,” she whispered, mind following his kisses all the way to her mouth. When they touched again, she waited, though she was dubious about what could be done just by moving their lips together. He pressed against her top lip, then moved, changing angles, changing the length of time, changing, until it all blurred into one breathy, desperate need to connect. Desire bolted through every cell, and she wanted to drag him to the bed, pull him down, and do what lovers did.

She was also terrified of that impulse, of having such strong desires outside of her control. As if sensing her hesitation, he slowed down the kisses and gently disentangled from her.

“I won’t push it, Luan. But I want you to know that I’m here and interested. That’s all.” He gently cupped her chin in one hand, a small, sweet smile upon his kiss-swollen lips.

No thoughts penetrated her brain in that moment. Everything froze, unable to function under the light of that expression, those words, the way his voice brushed her aural senses, and his scent enveloped her.

She remained in that same frozen position, even as he slipped away from her and closed the door quietly behind, leaving her alone to process.

Finally, some semblance of functionality returned to her brain, past the fog of desire and fear blanketing it.

Turned out she wasn’t the only person around here who could steal the breath from someone else’s lungs.

Chapter Six – Kerrick

Sure, Kerrick might be planning to officially challenge his father to a match today, but that barely dented the emotions churning in him like butter.

He’d kissed Luan. They kissed. They got lost in one another, and how easy it would have been to take everything further, and just give in to what his body wanted. It took every last ounce of control in his blood to drag himself away from her, maintain a respectful distance, and give her time to process her own obviously confused emotions.

He thought he knew what she was going through. A person unused to the affection and attention Kerrick tried lavishing on her. A person unused to desire, and of a deep conviction that this was wrong, because he was a prince, and she was his bodyguard.

Hanging onto that respect proved very, very difficult, however, because his mind kept playing out the other, better scenarios. Which led him to… dealing with his own personal needs in the bathroom, biting hard on his lip to keep the sounds to a minimum, as he tried to rub the heat and desire out of him.

It didn’t work as effectively as he’d hoped. His brain only had to take one stray turn to be floored at the possibilities. That Luan might be one step away from pulling him with her onto something, against a wall, and begging in his ear to take her. With that low, sultry voice of hers, he bet the sound would get him halfway finished without her ever touching him. He loved the feeling as well, of seeing this different side to her. Past the stoic, calm exterior, the hard smile, the dangerous confidence, there was someone who craved intimacy. Who kept throwing up walls against it, but seemed unable to resist the allure, circling him and drawing closer like a magnet.

I don’t think I want to be done with her, he thought, tapping on the wooden fence outside the manse, staring down at the fish pond with orange and white specimens drifting lazily in the clear waters, pecking at crumbs. One time won’t be enough. Or two or three. She was trouble. Might have saved his life, but that didn’t mean she wouldn’t be the death of him, somehow.

Just a shame that this burning attraction in his veins came at a time when he needed to challenge his father. From a person assigned to him only because of duty, and not because they’d done the courting dance before. Of course, he’d never meet someone like her at the endless balls and parties. People like her didn’t turn up at those places. People as strange and unique and compelling were hidden, and it annoyed him beyond measure that he’d never got to meet her beforehand.

Maybe he wouldn’t have wasted all those years with the wrong people.

Kerrick’s eyes narrowed as Perran slid beside him, resplendent in navy blue officer’s uniform. He tilted his shoulder to obscure Perran from view. “What do you want?”

“Just wondering how you’re feeling with the challenge. And also, I need to check out your skills in dragon form and without. Since a challenge can be chosen with one of those two stipulations.”

Kerrick let out a noncommittal grunt, not eager to lose his mood of Luan, and instead have it replaced with the gut-wrenching anxiety of having to challenge his father to a death match. His own flesh and blood, once a good man, but long since lost to something else.

“You will need the training. We haven’t been doing all of this just to send you to the slaughter.”

“My father will cheat,” Kerrick replied, hands clenching the wooden barrier. Two fish fought over one floating bread crumb, sending ripples in the water. “He’s not known for playing fair. I’m younger and stronger. There’ll be something. A dagger in the back at night. Poison in the food or his blade. An enchanted item, one of those Zamorkans waiting on the sidelines to steal away my strength. He’s likely been preparing for this the moment since it was obvious I was back and not staying at the palace, under his mercy.”

“We have witches of our own,” Perran said. “And we’ve arranged for a Zamorkan ambassador to join us. A special one.” The dragon shifter let a sly smile cover his features. “A null witch.”

Kerrick, despite himself, turned fully to take in Perran. “You found a null witch?”

He shrugged dismissively. “You can throw a rock in Zamorka, and you’ll hit a witch. Or warlock. They were more than happy to lend someone to protect you, given that if you win the challenge, then you can flush out that viper’s nest within Azarus, and deal a significant blow to the advances of the Conclave. Maybe take them off the board completely.”

It sent some kind of relief through Kerrick, but not enough to quell all his building fears. He’d hated interacting with everyone over the weeks, charming them in the only way he knew how, spreading little rumors that he believed there was something terribly wrong with his father, that he wasn’t the man he remembered, that he didn’t return to the palace, because he wasn’t entirely sure if his father was the reason for his initial disappearance. All the nobles ate it up, every morsel, and spread the rumors like wildfire, shaping and raising them into something else, until people forgot the original source, and shifted their support and attention onto Kerrick.

Oh, the promises he’d made, too. You’ll have more power. Your taxes will be lowered. Of course I’ll lift the trade embargo and lessen the border security. I’ll make life better for us, in the snap of two fingers.

It wouldn’t quite be within the snap of two fingers, but he had enough backing to be secure in the challenge.

He just wished he didn’t have to make it.

With his speech prepared, and the public amphitheater on the island of Azarus open for an orchestra concert, Kerrick was scheduled to open the concert with his announcement. In full view of his father, surrounded by protection, and with hundreds, maybe thousands of eyewitnesses. Luan would be standing right behind him, arms clasped behind her back, eyes cold and impassive as she entered her guard mode, his safety her top priority.

Skies, there was something sexy about that demeanor. Even at her most distant, he found something alluring.

He really was a goner, wasn’t he?

Realizing he’d been silent for a solid few minutes, and Perran hadn’t made any signs of moving, Kerrick cleared his throat and said, “When do you want to start this training?”

The older dragon shifter smiled. “After the announcement. Let’s not get you worn out before then.”

* * *

Minutes away from declaring to half or more of the population of Azarus that he intended to challenge his father, Kerrick was a bundle of nerves. Horrible, squirming nerves. He tried standing straight, adjusting his tie, making sure his gold cufflinks were fixed on neatly, brushing off imaginary dust, but nothing dispelled the unease, or his sweaty palms.

“You look like you’re about to faint,” Luan said, her voice soft and amused behind him, where he stood in the shadowy alcove, peeking at some of the crowd from his limited position. Perran was in discussion with the conductor, who was old, thin, and looked as though he’d never smiled a day in his life.

“I don’t faint,” Kerrick said. “But I might just leak myself going in front of that crowd.”

“You’ve entertained in public before, haven’t you?” Luan sounded curious now. He refused to look at her, in case his heightened nerves turned to something else, like an erection. Going in front of a crowd with an erection would be just about the end of him. Instead, he allowed her low voice to soothe him. And he gritted his teeth tightly to keep rein of any unruly emotions.

“Never to this many people. And never for a contest for my life and the throne. It’s a little different from just turning up and giving people smiles and waves.”

Silence fell between them, though he heard her breathing when he strained hard enough. Perran dashed towards them behind the theater stage.

“Thirty seconds, just while they alert the crowd, and then you’re on.”

It was the worst thing, waiting. Every second felt like a countdown to his doom, and he watched as the presenter yelled for quiet, his voice carried by the shape of the outdoor amphitheater. The rumbling of the crowd ground to a halt, and the presenter faced them expectantly.

Unable to swallow the lump in his throat, heart racing so fast he thought it might burst out of his chest, he forced a confident stride and made it to the center of the stage, where thousands of eyes fixed on him. Including, in the top box, draped with scarlet and gold, the king’s seat. The shadowy form of his father lounged upon an ornate golden throne within the box. Kerrick stared up at it, unable to catch his father’s demeanor or expression, before clearing his throat.

“Hello, everyone. As you know, I am Prince Kerrick, heir to the throne of Azarus, and I have a special announcement to make.” His throat was impossibly dry, but at least his voice didn’t shake or wobble. He needed to project as much confidence as possible, so people would see him as a leader, a person worth listening to. There were many vaguely familiar faces in the crowd, people who had attended gatherings he’d visited.

“In front of thousands of witnesses, in belief of the fact that under his rule, our country is suffering—I challenge my father to a Kingmatch.”

The moment the word was said, the crowd’s silence became electric, as if people couldn’t believe what he’d just said. Then the gathered citizens erupted into roars, astonished shouting, jeers and cheers, the moods extreme, their faces contorted. Kerrick noticed that his father had stood up in the seat.

Legally, his father couldn’t refuse. If a blood relative challenged, the current ruler had to accept.

If he refused, then he would have to abdicate in a month, and the throne went to his challenger anyway. A flimsy, ancient rule—one he was sure his father had wanted to change—but they knew the rule still existed. Everyone in the Six Isles knew about Kingmatches. They were the stuff of legends, of poems, and anyone who had witnessed one boasted about them for years afterwards.

When the crowd quietened enough, his father shrieked, “I accept your challenge!” His voice hit Kerrick’s ears, layered with rage, with indignation.

But not a refusal.

The crowd began chanting “Kingmatch!” and Kerrick’s heart sank to hear it. He wore the smile, but it was painted on, and he raised his hands as if in supplication to their cheers, even as he felt his childhood and past crack, and the tiny, unrealistic dream in the back of his mind that his father still cared was banished into nothingness.

The deed was done. He didn’t want it done, but when everyone else pushed their hopes onto him, and everyone expected him to solve the problem—what other choice did he have?

None at all, really. This had to happen. He left the stage, the sound of the crowd feeling like a force pushing him out of sight, and went straight past Luan without a word. She followed him quietly, no clever quips upon her tongue, following him all the way to Perran’s house on Azarus. Perhaps it was risky and stupid, walking blindly back without making any attempts to conceal himself, but he didn’t care.

Inside the safety of the house, he stared at the wall of the study room, after brushing aside timid servants’ requests. Luan stood nearby, arms folded, expression dark, chewing her bottom lip.

“Want to talk about it, Kerrick?”

“No,” he said with a hint of bite, before sighing and brushing a hand through his hair. He knew she’d just stand there impassively, waiting for him to speak. He licked his dry lips. “I’ll have to fight my father in two weeks from the day the challenge was issued. That gives me two weeks of training. Making sure… I’m ready.”

Luan nodded curtly. The silence lingered, and Kerrick found it harder and harder to focus on the study room and its various interesting assets, like the wall and the curtains, instead of on Luan, who seemed quite content to stand like a statue, regarding him.

“What do you want, Luan?” he asked, exasperated. She gave a little half-shrug.

“Honestly, I’m surprised you’re not destroying anything in this room. Or screaming. Or sinking into a puddle of despair. Figured it’d be one of the three. Just waiting for the blow-out.”

“Are you, now?” He let out a huff of irritation and stalked closer to her, wishing he could shake her stoic, blank attitude out. She instantly flexed herself, and he felt a soft buffet of wind against his body, which reminded him, oh, she’s an air witch, and he stopped a few meters from her.

“Not that kind of blow-out,” she said dryly, and Kerrick’s face likely resembled a beetroot at that point. He attempted to splutter something, but she cut him off with a, “Save it for later. Now, you. Go and vent if you need to. Don’t break anything, don’t go out—I need to guard the outside to make sure no one unsavory attempts to drop in. And you can have the time and space to process. Okay?”

“Okay,” he replied, sullen, as she released him from her air magic and left the room without another word. He supposed this was her attempt to care about him, to be nice to him—but he would have settled instead for a hug and a kiss.

Luan probably wasn’t a natural hugger and kisser, though.

Shame.

Chapter Seven – Luan

In the Undercity, there were some districts you just didn’t go into. The sprawling metropolis had several different councils within it, all with their own jurisdictions and laws. Some of them arrested you if you displayed any signs of magic and executed you with little provocation. Those districts tended to be bundled together, forming no-go zones. But if an individual was savvy enough, and understood the complexities of the Undercity’s municipalities, then they could theoretically cross the invisible line to another district and be free from persecution.

Otherwise, it was up to Luan and other task members from the Six Isles to try and locate accused witches before they were executed. They didn’t rescue them all. Most were unaware of their skills, too weak and unreliable to save themselves, or taken by the twisted narrative of their district: magic was evil.

Bored, Luan watched as the warden processed her release and transport writ, stamped by Perran and the prince’s official seals, and was rewarded with an ugly scowl.

“Not another one of you bleddy people,” the warden groaned.

“Take it up with my bosses if you dislike it so much,” Luan replied, now pretending to pick at her nails. “You know, you’d make life so much easier if you’d just inform us you have a witch.”

The warden’s jaw locked. “Demons. Sinners.”

“Those ‘demons and sinners’ help light up your streets. Carry airships. Provide drinkable water and harness storm energy. They make it so you don’t live in some cursing mud hut in a swamp.”

The warden didn’t appear all too impressed by her arguments, but rules were rules. He led her to the cell, and Luan came face to face with a scrubby little girl, perhaps no older than twelve or thirteen, with dark red streaks in her hair.

Another halfblood, Luan thought, settling outside the cage, keys pressed in her hand, to interrogate the child. It took a little prodding, but Luan managed to extract a name (Ella), and an inkling of Ella’s power, which sounded like she was a light witch. Possibly the least threatening witchy power out there, yet incredibly useful all the same, as their light also provided warmth. Luan didn’t know the science behind it, but she sure appreciated not freezing to death at inappropriate times.

“You’ll be trained up to be a light witch proper,” Luan told the little girl. Luan didn’t bother with smiles, because she figured she’d have more chance of making the girl shy away in terror at her faux friendliness. “And you’ll live in one of the Six Isles. Above everything. You’ll get to ride in an airship. You’ll get to be happy.”

The girl appeared extremely doubtful of what Luan told her. “But witches are bad.”

Luan resisted the urge to break out into a smile, knowing it’d look sinister to the child. “That’s what stupid people say. That’s what they say when they don’t understand. Some witches are bad, yes, this is true. But some are good, too. Just like how some humans are bad. Very bad,” Luan said, seeing something spark in the girl’s eyes. “And some are good. Witches are humans. That’s all.”

The girl took some time to ponder all this. Then she said, “Okay, I’ll come with you. But I want to meet the prince.”

Luan blinked rapidly. “Huh?”

“The prince,” Ella insisted. “Everyone’s talking ‘bout him down here. Saying how he went away then came back and is going to change everything. Can I meet him?”

A genuine chuckle slipped from Luan’s lips. “Sure. Why not? Let’s get you out of here and meet a sky-cursed prince.”

The little girl’s blue eyes lit up in excitement.

* * *

Kerrick dragged Luan to the side. “Why,” he hissed at Luan, who was shaking with silent laughter. “Why is there a little girl here?”

“She wants to meet her hero,” Luan said, brushing off Kerrick’s grip. “I just got her out of prison.”

“Prison?” Kerrick yelped, before his face melted into an awkward smile when pointed in the direction of Ella. “Why’s a kid in prison?”

“Witchcraft,” Luan said darkly. “Some areas of the Undercity are very ‘execute on sight’ when it comes to witches. I think we lose something close to a hundred potential witches every year because no one’s bothered annexing the hick parts of our beloved city.”

She saw Kerrick processing the statement, clearly baffled at Luan’s words. “They… kill witches here?”

“Yes. Certain traditional districts aren’t happy with the notion of witches at all. You didn’t know?”

“Of course not. I thought all the rules were the same.”

“City’s too big,” Luan replied, before shoving Kerrick toward Ella. “Go. Be nice and princely.”

She watched, arms folded, as the prince got onto his knees to greet Ella, whose eyes were shining like stars in the night sky. The little girl shook Kerrick’s hand with great enthusiasm, babbling about something, while he nodded and smiled in return.

Ella would eventually go to some family in the Six Isles who could accommodate a witch and be willing to train her, but Luan figured that this little visit would be good for the both of them. Kerrick needed a reminder of a stranger’s love, of the faith people put in him. Because Luan might not be the best at feelings, but she knew he’d be under a lot of stress while waiting and training for the showdown against his father, so little moments like this meant everything.

When Ella finally left, to be whisked away to her new future, Luan grabbed a drink for Kerrick, who looked small slumped over his armchair, his white shirt disheveled, his stubble beginning to grow out, and dark hair looking in need of a serious comb. She was reminded of her first meeting of him, when he resembled more some homeless tramp than an actual prince.

“She’s a good kid, that one,” Kerrick supplied after a long moment, staring at the floor as though it held the answers to the mysteries of life.

“Yeah.” It wasn’t Kerrick’s true thoughts, but Luan didn’t expect him to share. Her eyes did trace over his form, though. Even slumped like this, deflated of some of his former dignity, he had a kind of presence about him that made it hard for her to focus. And it had her constantly reminding herself that she shouldn’t be caught staring for too long, past what was socially accepted.

But, well. They’d kissed, hadn’t they? Prince or not, he’d been into it. So had she. Very… into it.

Great. Now her face burned, but thankfully, Kerrick was too preoccupied with the floor to notice. “I thought maybe it might help for you to talk to her. Just to have a reminder that people do care. Even hysterical thirteen-year-old girls who’ve only seen you in papers.”

“Those people don’t know me, though,” Kerrick whispered, and now Luan thought she began to understand the prince’s reticence. “They don’t know what kind of person I really am.”

“Who does?” Luan considered approaching him, trying to get him away from his current relationship with the floor, although she wasn’t sure if she could do this comforting thing. “We’re all wearing different masks for different occasions. We change, depending on the people we are with. So, I guess you could say that we’re always the same person, but we just choose to reveal different parts of ourselves to suit the occasion.”

Now Kerrick looked up, eyes narrowed, lips crinkled in an oddly adorable way that took some of Luan’s attention. “I don’t understand.”

“It’s not that hard. You’re not lying to people. It’s only lying if you’re withholding a truth from them that should be known.” This close to Kerrick, Luan’s mind raced through all the different things she wanted to try with him. To explore more about that kiss from earlier, even though she knew next to nothing. He’d promised to teach her, but since that kiss, things had gotten a little awkward between them.

Their eyes held contact for too long, and something broke between them. Kerrick reached for her as she sped to him, and their lips crashed together, hands and fingers wrapping around one another for closeness. Something burned inside her, and she whimpered against his lips, needy and frantic, unable to quell the desire. Every touch, every kiss flared it hotter, higher, and her urgency transferred to him as well.

In the blink of an eye, they’d reversed positions, him pressing her into the armchair, his weight against her, between her legs, kissing and leaving a wet trail from her lips to her neck.

“Wait, hold on,” Kerrick said with great effort as she chased his lips, trying to connect with them again. Disappointment surged through her, but she bit it back as best as able.

“Hmm?”

“Not yet,” he whispered.

“Why not—”

“Someone’s coming,” he said, backing completely away, and she sprang to her feet in a rush of adrenaline, quickly patting down her clothes.

Perran walked through the door to witness a scene of them appearing entirely too nonchalant and avoiding one another’s eyes.

“Luan, a word,” Perran said. He flicked a thin smile at Kerrick. “You should get some rest, Prince. We’re going to have a long day training.”

Kerrick grunted something in response, and Luan continued taking deep, steady breaths, not wanting her boss to see her acting so unprofessionally. Giving into emotions like some teenager. She followed Perran out, partly wondering if he’d heard or seen anything, because if Kerrick did, then it stood to reason…

Perran didn’t mention anything, however. “The null witch is here from Zamorka.”

“Already?” Luan gaped. “But didn’t you ask for her only a few days ago?” Since he’d been expecting Kerrick to challenge and expecting Kerrick’s father to play dirty.

“She was en route for another reason,” Perran said with a thin smile. “She’ll be a guest at Meridas’ place. She wants to help flush out some of the corruption in our kingdom, as relations between Leavenport and the Six Isles are more important than ever.” He stopped in a small study room, indicating the null witch. “Make friends. I’m going to bed.”

Silently fuming as Perran left, Luan attempted a smile at the blonde-haired witch in front of her. “Hey.”

“Hello.” The null witch quirked thick lips into a smile, blue eyes amused. “Air witch, I see. I can smell it.”

“That’s nice.”

They stared at each other awkwardly.

“Well…” Luan shrugged. “Let’s test you.” She held up one hand, and instantly slammed her magic into the witch, who choked as the breath was snatched from her lungs.

With a snarl, the witch pulsed something, and Luan’s magic vanished. Startled, Luan tried reaching for her beloved power, only to grasp at some invisible, black wall within her mind.

“Nice,” Luan said. “I’ve never seen a null witch before.”

“Heh…” the witch rubbed at her throat, taking a few wheezing breaths until she could speak normally again. “And I’ve never seen an air witch do what you did. Tell me, is this how you greet all your guests?”

“Only the special ones,” Luan said, grinning. She might be irritated for some reason, high strung with the memory of Kerrick’s heavy kissing session on her skin and lips and mind, but she would at least try to rein in any more of her… violent tendencies. “We have a life witch as well somewhere. Maybe you’ll want to meet her tomorrow?”

“Oh, I would,” the null witch purred. “Name’s Adaline.”

“Luan.” They shook hands firmly. No hard feelings.

“I would appreciate it if you didn’t greet me like that again.”

“Sorry,” Luan said, not sorry at all. “Just a little annoyed with my boss.”

They walked off together, with Luan showing Adaline where she’d sleep, intending to work closely with the null witch tomorrow so she could work through all the important contacts in the Six Isles. Luan also intended to brood in her bed all night, paranoid that Perran might hear her go to Kerrick’s room, and frustrated enough to punch her pillow a few times, before slipping into an angry sleep.

Chapter Eight – Kerrick

Kerrick barely saw Luan after that breathless assault. He had to avoid thinking about her too much, though, because the thought of her and all the senses she engaged with him was enough to get him bulging. Once, very awkwardly, in front of Perran as they sparred, but the dragon shifter shrugged it off, as if it were perfectly normal that sparring partners became erect.

The older dragon worked Kerrick ruthlessly, in both dragon form and human form. Kerrick had to learn to protect his neck, always protect his neck, as one good grip of the teeth could ruin him. He learned to use his wings to add additional force, his tail as a whip, and to engage his stronger back claws if his opponent lay on the ground. In human form, he practiced with fists, and a sword.

Luan, meanwhile, was stuck with that null witch, which left Kerrick yearning for the time when he’d be able to get her back in his arms again. Since he wasn’t going out, he didn’t need protection, and it felt strange to look behind him and not see the air witch there.

The days crept closer. Word spread about the challenge, which would take place in the same amphitheater where he called for the Kingmatch.

His father remained silent. No letters. No assassins, either, thankfully, but Kerrick suspected that wasn’t deliberate. His father most likely would love to assassinate him if possible.

He spent hours trying to get to sleep the night before, thoughts alternating between dread from engaging his father, to annoyance he hadn’t seen Luan, when he wanted nothing else but to pick up right where they left off, without any interruptions. Storms, he wanted to taste her lips again, to feel her heartbeat thudding close, to screw her senseless…

But instead, a dull ache was left in his heart, along with the dread, and the nerves, and everything else that made him want to throw himself out the window and fly away as far as possible from everything. Start a new life.

He still didn’t know if he wanted to be king, either.

He only knew that his father couldn’t be.

The day of the match brought sunshine and clear skies. Of course it did. No dramatic weather, no storms or rains or high winds to indicate the enormity of the event. Just a normal, bright day. Somehow it pissed him off. He barely managed his breakfast, grew more annoyed when he saw no Luan with him, and was almost at boiling point by the time he and Perran left to head to the amphitheater, with Luan and that null witch joining them halfway.

Although Luan didn’t say anything, she did place a hand on his shoulder, and he felt a little better to see her smiling at him, with a hint of concern in those dark eyes.

“Missed you,” he said softly, guts churning as they neared the amphitheater.

Her jaw locked and unlocked a few times, before she admitted, “I missed you, too. And I really… really wish we could have spent more time together.”

“We will,” he assured her, even though he couldn’t exactly make promises right now. Not when he was close to death’s door. When only one of two people would make it out alive from the Kingmatch.

Ushered in by the constabulary, Kerrick made it to the soft dirt floor past the wooden stage of the amphitheater, where usually there would be chairs. The null witch stayed nearby by the stage with Luan.

And Kerrick waited for his father to arrive. The seats in the amphitheater were already full, and after initial cheering and booing when Kerrick emerged from the stage, the audience had slipped into rumbling conversation with one another instead.

The bravado from earlier leaked out of him with every passing minute, until again, he felt that desire to just leave everything behind and flee.

But unfortunately, a lot of people’s hopes hinged upon him. And he simply couldn’t let anyone down. Especially not Luan. That woman seemed to see something in him, far more noble than he’d ever pictured himself being. He wanted to live up to that. He wanted to impress her.

Cheers and screams filled the atmosphere as his father entered the arena from the other side, three people following close behind. A long, royal red and white cloak trailed behind him, though he didn’t wear his crown or hold his golden staff.

They stood facing one another at a distance allocated by a nervous Kingmatch referee, who began clearing his throat.

“What duel will this be?” the man screamed, making himself heard to the crowd after they’d quietened. “Will it be in human form or dragon form? The challenged has the right to decide!”

In answer, his father, facing him with vehement fury, shifted gracefully into a dragon, dark gray with white flakes upon his skin, as if snow had dusted those feathery scales of his. He was bigger, meaner than Kerrick’s dragon—of course he’d choose the dragon over his frailer human form.

“The fight will commence in dragon form!” the portly referee screeched, backing away hastily as another wave of sound hit from the audience.

Kerrick shifted as well, his body stretching, neck elongating, features melting into a much larger, wing-toting dragon. His tail quivered in anticipation as he eyed his father through enhanced retinas, capturing far more hues of color than an ordinary human eye. His nostrils inhaled the musk of stone and wood of the arena, and the brimstone and rage emanating from his father. Cloaked figures stood behind his father, their hair not revealed, only the bottoms of their mouths visible in flesh.

Thousands upon thousands of people crammed the seats, ready to watch, though they put their own lives in danger, because if the fight got violent and messy, then there wasn’t a whole lot protecting them from the wrath of two royal dragons.

“The duel begins!” A loud, scratchy voice cut through Kerrick’s breaths, and he stretched his limbs and raised his tail high, waiting for the old man to initiate. Remember Perran’s training. Protect the neck. Use a stronger opponent’s strength against him. He’d be a wily, cautious fighter. Luan had offered to steal his father’s breath, and Kerrick still growled at the implication. Whatever he thought of his father, he wanted a fair fight. One that gave the old man a chance.

The old man’s pockmarked visage bared teeth in a snarl, his huge wings fanning out in an aggressive display of dominance. Kerrick felt something strange wash over him. Power—something from the enemy, attempting to subdue him. Right before the null witch behind him canceled it. A surprised hiss emanated from the witches behind his father, and his father reared his head in confusion.

Thought you’d weaken me, old man? Kerrick exposed his teeth in a savage snarl. Most of his nerves vanished, and his confidence began to bloom. He could do this.

Circling closer to his father, he espied Luan by the null witch, her arms folded, glaring at the other witches, just daring them to come her way.

With a roar, his father charged, using the force of his wings to add more impact, which Kerrick barely avoided. He clipped his left wing in the effort, but managed to snap at his father’s tail as it flickered past. His father spun and lashed out with his long neck—a reckless move, because if he missed the strike, then Kerrick potentially could grab him in a fatal choke. His father missed the move, but rolled out of Kerrick’s grab attempt, and slashed at Kerrick’s face with his front claws. Closing the distance, Kerrick gouged at his father’s side, raking the wing joint, and they tussled, rolling and scratching the wood in their ungainly wrestling match.

The cheers and cries of fear from the crowd were drowned out until all Kerrick focused on was his own heartbeat, the snarls and growls and scuffling of bodies, the swipe of wings through air, the coppery tang of blood as their clawing broke through the scales. Placing all his strength into a push, Kerrick rolled his father onto his belly and used his back left leg to claw viciously at the tender flesh there, scoring deep red lines. In retaliation, his father writhed wildly and used his superior size to toss Kerrick off, and something snapped in Kerrick’s wing joint as he impacted the ground.

They clashed together again in a frenzy of claws and teeth, one of Kerrick’s wings not working properly. His father thought he smelled victory, but the wounds he’d sustained from Kerrick’s exsanguination slowed his father down. More cuts.

Bleed out the bigger beast. Avoid him doing the same. That great big body needed to pump the blood far more strenuously than Kerrick’s.

A shrill scream hit his ears as he clamped his teeth down on his father’s neck on a lucky, scrabbling grab, and his attention slid enough to see Luan standing in front of the null witch, wrestling with one of the opposing witches who had sped over, blade in hand. Unfortunately, the null witch’s magic disabled Luan’s power as well.

No! Luan!

His father bucked him off, since he was unable to consolidate his hold, and Kerrick backed away, thundering towards the people attacking Luan. With a primal, enraged scream, his eyes and brain blurring over with a red mist, he slammed his great claws down on one unprepared enemy, crushing them where they stood, and clawed the one off Luan, who lay on the floor, crimson spreading beneath her.

Teeth bit into Kerrick’s flank, and he felt the tearing of scales and flesh, bellowing as he turned, and with an awkward move, locked his own jaws around his father’s neck again. Trouble with bite holds—if the attacker didn’t secure a location and protect their own neck, it left them vulnerable.

Savaging his father, biting deeper and deeper, he kept the pressure until copper burst over his tongue, and his father’s struggles lessened, before fading into nothing.

The cheers became thunderous, and Kerrick drew away, instantly checking out Luan. The null witch kneeled at the fallen air witch’s side, and Kerrick shifted back into his human form with a groan, staggering and falling to one knee.

“Need,” he croaked, beckoning Perran over, “need Alex. Can you get her? Is she around?”

Wordlessly, Perran pointed, and Kerrick saw Meridas and Alex fighting their way through the crowd, spilling onto the arena to dash to Luan.

“She was stabbed,” the null witch said, as Kerrick spat and wiped away the taste of blood in his mouth. “Abdomen. The other witches really didn’t expect me to be here.”

Luan choked a laugh, blood bubbling into her mouth. “Someone who pisses them off even… more… than me…”

“Luan.” Kerrick cradled her head, terrified beyond measure that Alex wouldn’t get here fast enough, wouldn’t heal her in time. “Thank you. I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”

She brought one hand to his cheek and stared into his eyes with her wide dark ones, and grinned, her teeth furred with blood. “I’m coming back and… haunting… all of you… if she doesn’t heal me…” Luan’s eyes turned to Alex, who thumped down beside her, puffing frantically. Luan’s eyes closed, and she exhaled one frightening breath, like it was her last, as Alex placed her hands on the air witch.

Kerrick growled, unable to control his own fear. If she died… if she died… no. He didn’t want to think about it. Process it.

She wouldn’t die.

He held onto her tight, refusing to let go as Alex pulsed her magic into Luan. The null witch had long since released her own magic and was off to the side, talking with Perran. The red around Luan’s stomach healed. She didn’t move for one heart-stopping moment, before her eyes snapped open, and she spat out more blood, coughing until she was clean. Crying in relief, Kerrick clutched her tight to him, relenting when she winced. Alex instantly moved away to give them privacy, and Kerrick rocked back and forth with Luan, blotting out the dying sounds of the crowd, his attention only for the air witch who nestled in his arms, warm and alive.

“Looks like I don’t need to haunt you after all,” she said with a smirk.

“Nope.” He bent to place a soft kiss on her cheek, threading fingers through her hair. Relief sobbed through him, and everything loosened. An inexplicable weight had vanished, and Luan, at first reluctant to cuddle him, eventually accepted her new position without too much protest.

He appreciated that.

Giddy relief floated in him all the way back to Perran’s home. He didn’t want to enter the palace—not until the viper’s nest had been truly flushed out, and his own people installed within its walls. Which meant anyone Perran could place his hands upon with a vested interest in changing the future of the Six Isles. He carried Luan bridal style, and it was a testament to the air witch’s exhaustion, or perhaps her need for close contact, that she didn’t bother to wriggle out of his grasp, but instead let her head loll against his shoulder, trusting in him to carry her back.

His heart continued to thump frantically in his chest, violent and beautiful at the same time.

Maybe it was just the shock of nearly losing her, of watching her exhale her last breath. Maybe it was just adrenaline and relief forming a dangerous cocktail inside him, but he knew in that moment, staring at the stubborn, dazed woman in his arms, that he didn’t want to let her go.

Ever.

Chapter Nine – Luan

Emotions. Luan didn’t handle them well. Unless she was abusing fear and hatred to her own ends when interrogating prisoners. Those were easy to elicit, because people functioned on basic, instinctual levels that all the trappings of society couldn’t shake off. Didn’t matter how fancy their clothing or how civilized they thought themselves.

Everyone had a breaking point. Everyone had a price. Her job was to find out the limit, test it, and break that individual as per her profession. Art, in a way. It made her a monster, but even monsters had their uses.

With Kerrick, Luan found her own breaking point. It terrified her beyond anything ever experienced. Worse than going alone in the palace, or dealing with dangerous assassins, wondering if one of them might get the drop on her at last, or if someone intended to avenge someone she’d jailed or killed. Those emotions? Easy. She knew exactly what to expect and exactly how to deal with it.

Relationship-based emotions? Another case entirely. On top of the incredibly annoying physical reactions that she’d really rather she didn’t have, there was also something extra and unexplainable. Something that made her stare at Kerrick for too long and catch him smiling. Something that drew her closer, seeking connection, contact, drowning in tactile sensation and all the other senses revolving around him.

Right now, Luan dreaded returning to Perran’s house. It would be Kerrick’s last night here before he moved into the palace and started changing the laws inside out, flushing the Conclave members away from their beloved isles. They were already rats fleeing a sinking ship, escaping the quick purging of the task forces of their department. Also, around eight of the constabulary ended up being fired due to unearthed evidence of corruption.

Everything had worked out for the best, ever since Luan rescued the prince from that warehouse. They had a real chance of fixing their kingdom, and Kerrick’s coronation was scheduled for a week from today.

So, why did she feel dread, standing outside Perran’s house?

He’s going to be king. This is where we part. One more night in this place as they arrange for the palace and new servants to be installed, then he’ll vanish into publicity forever. I’ll be back to my usual police duties. And he… he’ll find some suitable noble lady to be by his side, and one day become his wife.

Listing the facts didn’t cheer her up in the slightest. That hollow sensation in her stomach remained.

One night left. Darkness lay at her back, and the clouds obscured the skies above.

One night left, and she intended to make the most of it.

Kerrick had promised to teach her. Now that the mission was over, he probably planned to renege on this idea, cloaking himself in responsibility instead. Keeping her breathing as calm as possible, though she struggled to control the rising anticipation and excitement wriggling inside, she located Kerrick in his chambers, propped up against the slats of the bed, reading by orblight. Most injuries had been cleared up, though his left shoulder blade ached, equivalent to the wing break he experienced in the duel against his father. Luan remembered how vulnerable she’d felt, stripped of her magic, forced to watch as the bigger and older dragon set upon Kerrick, thirsting for the kill. And then those witches, denied by the null witch, attempting to fight past her…

“Luan.” Kerrick placed his book down immediately upon seeing her. He gave her a tired but happy smile. “Good to see you.”

“Likewise.” She remained frozen by the door for a moment, seeing an invisible threshold around his bed, mind already racing through the possible things they’d experience. Then, with a deep inhale, she closed and locked the door behind. “Since this is our last night together…” She left it hanging, and his eyes widened, going dark and curious. He slid himself out of bed to meet her halfway, hands teasing into her short, dark hair, eyes boring into hers.

Shivering, Luan reached up to place her lips upon his, even as her heart throbbed, and something painful twanged in her guts.

She didn’t want her first time to be her only time with him. She’d hoped for more, many more. Expected more moments, more time.

But time had an unfortunate habit of running out.

“I’ll guide you,” he whispered against her lips, energy crackling through them, sending a warm, delicious heat across her body, her skin. Getting lost in the kisses, Luan dragged herself closer to him, yearning for more, frightened by the depths of that sudden desire, how it licked across her limbs and stuttered her breathing until it became pants. Her eyes were closed to sink into the feeling further, to be caressed, cared for in a way no one else had ever done.

The back of her knees bumped the bed, and he lowered her down onto it, rearranging the covers, batting away his book so that it thumped against the floor.

“Any time you want me to stop, just say,” he murmured against the skin of her neck, as his hands worked at her clothes, plying them away from her body until the cold air hissed against her heated skin.

Arousal pooled between her thighs, and every tiny movement of his body against her sent further jolts of pleasure, building up into a steady flame of passion, sweeping away some of her fears, but not all of them.

What if I’m not good enough? What if this first time is horrible?

What if it’s amazing, but I won’t be able to touch him again?

Her doubts lessened when he pressed his lips against hers again, tongue sweeping her bottom lip, both of them panting into each other’s mouths. His breath was minty and fresh, as if he’d been sitting there chewing mint bark the whole time, and his weight pressed comfortably into her.

“Don’t stop,” she hissed against his mouth, excited when his hands teased off her underwear, completely divesting her of all her clothes.

His eyes raked over her naked body, over all the tattoos. “One moment. I need to do this.” One hand and finger traced over every single mark, and he took his time. Tracing the wind and fire patterns on each arm, her shoulders, collarbone, and legs. His eyes were wide and worshipful, and he kept inhaling sharply, as if constantly being surprised by what he saw and felt. He then gently asked her to roll onto her front, so he could trace the wind like swirls on her back, finger following the ink.

“It’s like looking at a piece of art,” he breathed reverently. She flushed at that. She loved her tattoos, but people didn’t think a woman should have them. Yet with Kerrick…

She turned onto her back again and drew him into another kiss. “Please,” she whispered. “When you kiss me again, please don’t stop.”

Even if this is the only time we have together…

He paused in his caressing, and she opened her eyes to see his pupils blown, but expression confused. “What makes you think this will be the only time we have together?”

Crimson spread across Luan’s cheeks. Oh no. She’d said that out loud? Not good. “I…” Now it was her turn to be confused. “Isn’t it?”

“No?” His eyebrows knitted together, and he hovered above her naked body, still wearing his nightshirt and boxers, hair mussed up from her fingers teasing through it. “I have no intention of this being our only time if I can help it. Though let’s wait until after the act and see if you’re not squirming in terror because of my awful lovemaking skills.”

Luan snorted in spite of her embarrassment and confusion, hitting him on the shoulder. “Because you’re going into the palace. You’re going to become king and be the most important individual in the Six Isles and the Undercity. I’m a cop. I’ll be working. And I don’t plan to stop working. You’ll have… obligations. Commitments. No time for someone like me.”

He placed one hand under her chin, stroking the softness there, and she sighed into the touch, feeling as if she were hovering on the edge of something. “I’ll always make time for you,” he said, his voice gravelly, seductive. Shivers raked up and down her spine, and she squeezed her eyes shut in a quick bid to stop the sudden well of tears threatening to leak out.

“You think this can work out? Because… I…” I’m a monster. She clung onto those words, unable to breathe them out loud. Not wanting to hear him confirm it, and not entirely sure she might break down if he denied it.

He continued stroking her chin, and when she opened her eyes, a strange expression lingered upon his features. “Well, seeing as you’re an amazing, strong, and beautiful person, I think I can climb a few mountains to make it work out. If you want me to.”

Leaning close, he whispered into her ear, “And after almost losing you once, I don’t intend to lose you again.”

The words iced through her, bringing out a gasp from her lips, and all doubt, all trepidation vanished. Fire burned through her veins as she sought the prince’s lips, digging hard and deep into his mouth, clawing at his inconvenient and annoying shirt. The words galvanized her, allowing her to drown in the affection she’d been trying to avoid beforehand. She budged his shirt off with desperate need, palms running over his bare skin, craving that contact, that intimacy.

They broke away from their frantic kissing, breaths panting and heavy with desire, as she helped the prince wriggle out of his boxers, leaving all of him free at last. From his fine, rounded face and lust-glazed eyes, to the strong muscles in his creamy arms, the rippling of his stomach muscles as her fingers danced over them, and to the waiting erection below, which she tentatively grasped, curious to see if it’d be soft, or hard.

“That’s… ah, very distracting,” he said, nuzzling her forehead with his, flexing slightly so that her hand slid away from his length.

The thought of that thing slipping in her had her both terrified and excited, and she expected him to dive right in, now that they were both naked, but he didn’t. He took his damn time, playing with her skin, lips traveling across her face, neck, collarbone, until his hot breath lingered over each breast, tongue dipping at the hardened peaks there.

He kept up his sweet torment until she rocked her hips against his, hissing noises of encouragement, begging for him to take it further. It was like existing in a strange, heated fever dream, where the rest of the world didn’t matter, didn’t exist, and Kerrick had expanded to fill that void. Nothing but him was needed, nothing but to have their bodies flush and tight against one another, weathering the storm of emotion together.

He tested her wetness with one finger, before finally slipping into her hot, aching center, slowly and carefully to make sure he didn’t bring her pain. There was a slight bite to the way he filled her up, since she hadn’t experienced anyone inside her before, but he always made sure to be careful, respectful, until she had stretched enough to accommodate him without tensing up.

Her thoughts blurred as he began to thrust in her, shallow and slow, but increasing the length until he was slipping almost all the way out and back in. It wasn’t that, however, that was the best feeling—just having him close, having him there and so intimate, whispering things in her ear, kissing her with those lips, worshipping her with every bone in his body.

She noticed how when she touched his left shoulder, he winced slightly, and quickly learned to avoid that area.

All of it merged together and formed a tight ball in her stomach, which grew and grew every time he hit a certain spot inside her. He didn’t always hit it, so she ebbed and flowed like water, reassured when he told her she was doing fine, moaning when she raked his back, sucked at his neck, and dragged him close to her.

The tight ball in her snapped like a band, and she shuddered and broke beneath him, mouth open in a silent scream, almost boneless with the pleasure that rocketed through her.

What…

What was that…

Her body’s automatic reaction, to contract and tense, seemed to do something to him as well. Her muscles tightened around his length, and he shivered, giving a few sharp thrusts, before slowing, and resting his face against her shoulder. His hot breaths peppered her skin, and his heart galloped at a similar rate to hers. The sex-choked haze around them gradually calmed, until they were both untangled, and lying side to side, sleepy and happy.

His fingers couldn’t stop stroking her cheek. “That was…” he said, at a momentary loss for words. “Amazing. You’re amazing.”

“I barely did anything,” she said, though she grinned. The grin felt too wide, too different from the way she usually smiled. She probably looked like an idiot. “You did all the work.”

“Oh… you were definitely helping,” he said with a breathless chuckle. “Look at this.” He pointed at his side, where there were scratch marks along his skin.

“Oh, storms.” Luan stared, wide-eyed. “I didn’t mean to…”

“It’s fine, it’s fine. It was… good. And if you give me ten minutes… I’m more than happy for another round.” The smile turned devious.

Luan gaped. “You’d do this more than once a night?”

“Certainly.”

She shivered, crossing her legs, feeling a strange, burning sensitivity down there. “That’s… seems there’s a lot I don’t know.”

“I’ll teach it all. And learn some more as well,” he said, planting a soft kiss on her lips. “I want to share this with you. I…” he hesitated.

But he didn’t need to say it. Luan knew.

She might be a dense idiot when it came to personal feelings regarding romance, but she did know the words trapped in his body.

So she said them for him.

“I love you, too.”

He stiffened in her arms, before relaxing with a sigh of relief. “Likewise, Luan. Likewise.” His gaze then turned serious. “So, do me a favor and try not to die, alright?”

“I’ll try my best,” she said, highly amused, resisting the urge to laugh like a donkey. “But I am a cop. I go where the danger is.”

“And I’m a prince. I’m surrounded by it,” he said with a smile. “Maybe I’ll have to hire you as my bodyguard.”

“Good luck trying to peel me from Perran’s task force,” Luan said with a smirk. “Because I don’t think that man’s planning to part from me for anything.”

“Eh. I’ll find something,” he said, before leaning forward for another addictive kiss. Luan could get used to this.

Very used to it.

“I’m surprised you’re not repulsed by me,” she said as lightly as possible, even though the thoughts weighed heavy on her heart, and took away some of the buzz of her first orgasm. “I’m so used to the way people look at me. And then there’s the way you look at me. I don’t know how to handle it.”

“Whatever you are to others, you’re important to me, Luan. More important than you’d ever know. But I intend to spend a lot of time showing you in person what you mean to me.”

“That’s nice,” she murmured, a new tightness forming in her stomach. Her lips parted to accept his tongue, and the kiss turned from lazy and gentle to hunger and heat.

Epilogue – Kerrick

Thousands turned up for his coronation. They cheered in the streets as they watched his advisers drape the crown about his head, as he raised the golden staff, with the figurine of a long, golden, serpentine dragon entwined around it. Luan was in the crowd, making sure no one attempted to leap out at him, as with her reputation, people tended to steer clear.

They knew he was dating her. He’d insisted on making it public, and she’d reluctantly agreed, though he saw the delight dancing in her eyes. She might be able to keep her face rigid, but she couldn’t hide it from her eyes. He was learning to read her better and better every day.

Still had a lot to learn about her, but he was willing to go on that journey. Willing to chase his love.

With the screams and cheers of the crowds a distant memory, Kerrick retired to the royal bedchambers, not needing to spend any time on throne duties today. There’d be a feast later in his honor, where he needed to rub shoulders with important people, and start seeking to revise any altered laws, but for now, he could just enjoy time to himself.

He grinned when Luan floated onto his balcony and strolled inside, instantly greeting him with a deep kiss and grab. “Afternoon, honey,” he said, trying the pet name, interested to see if she’d flinch, glare, or accept it happily.

Her cheeks pinked slightly as she replied, “Afternoon yourself. No one tried to kill you at your coronation, so I consider my job a success.”

“I kept imagining all the things that could go wrong,” he admitted. “But then I remembered I had you watching over me. So I wasn’t worried at all.”

A slight lie, but also a slight truth.

“Your guards almost had a heart attack when they saw me floating to your balcony. Lucky you informed them about me, I suppose… because otherwise that’d be some lax security going on.”

He grinned. “You’re all the security I need…”

She made a hmph of disbelief but did allow herself to be caught up in additional kisses.

Yes, Kerrick thought, brimming with joy. The shadow of his father’s death didn’t loom as much as he thought it would. They’d been too estranged for too long for him to care like he used to.

He was king, aiming to change laws, controlled by the police, but that was a small price to pay. He also happened to be in love with a cop. A dangerous, wonderful, sexy cop that he never wanted to let go of.

I wonder how long I’d have to wait before I ask to marry her, he thought quite seriously. Probably not now. She barely managed to survive him calling her honey.

Maybe I’ll give it a week. Or a month. He beamed into his kisses, drawing her onto his lap, holding her there as once more, they pretended that the rest of the world didn’t exist.

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Table of Contents

Table of Contents

(Untitled)

The Dragon’s Life Witch

(Untitled)

Prologue – Serpent Isle’s Fall

Chapter One –Twenty-Five Years After Serpent Isle’s Fall – Alex

Chapter Two – Meridas

Chapter Three – Alex

Chapter Four – Meridas

Chapter Five – Alex

Chapter Six – Meridas

Chapter Seven – Alex

Chapter Eight – Meridas