Six Isles' Witches and Dragons Box Set

by Lisa Daniels

  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 aro
und 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?”