by Lisa Daniels
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 tha
t 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?”