by Kyle West
“You spoil her,” Julia said. “Morgana, please fill the cups. But not the mystika, that is for your father to serve.” She looked at Lucian. “It’s his own brew.”
Morgana served Lucian first, standing almost directly behind him as she reached over and filled his cup. She brushed his shin with her foot as she walked around the table, so lightly that it might have been an accident. She was growing bolder.
She next filled her parents’ cups with tea before filling her own. Kieron served Lucian some stew, which was filled with meat and root vegetables. When Morgana took her seat, she scooted her chair closer to Lucian and gave him a warm smile. He wondered how soon he might get out of here. He was already starting to think of excuses.
“Before we begin,” Kieron said, reaching for the other pitcher, “some of my mystika, in recognition of Lucian’s bravery today.” He poured out four shots of the drink. “You bring honor to our family and our table by being here.”
Lucian cleared his throat. “The honor is mine, Kieron.”
They drank, and the sweet drink burned Lucian’s throat and settled warm in his stomach.
It was quiet again as they all took their first bites of stew. The meat was tough and stringy, though the stew had done some work to soften it, while the flavor was good and savory. The vegetables were mostly familiar – potatoes, chopped-up beets, leeks, onions, with a few other things he didn’t recognize.
“It’s delicious,” Lucian said.
Julia smiled, pleased. “It isn’t much, but thank you, Lucian.”
“They are already rationing the community larders,” Kieron put in. “They say a slave party will be making its way up the Deeprift in just a few days.”
“Good thing we’ll have Lucian to protect us,” Morgana said, lightly touching his knee. Lucian jerked his leg away, doing his best to keep his face neutral.
“Didn’t you hear, dear?” Julia asked. “Lucian will be gone for the next few days, hunting wyverns with Fergus and Cleon. It’s important we have enough venom on hand to make those slavers think twice about stepping foot in the Deeprift!”
“Oh,” she said, sadly. “That’s much too bad.”
Lucian almost spit out his stew when Morgana’s foot rubbed his shin. It was hard not to betray the surprise on his face. He shifted his feet away, but that did nothing to curb Morgana’s determination. She just reached farther, and Lucian was helpless to escape. What in the Worlds was this girl doing?
“Is everything all right?” Julia asked, concerned. “I didn’t put too much caro pepper in the stew, did I? It can be rather hot for the foreign palate.”
“No, you didn’t,” Lucian said, hastily.
“You poor thing, your cheeks are burning so. It’s like you swallowed a coal.”
“The stew is perfectly fine,” Lucian gasped. Morgana’s foot was trailing up dangerously. He had to put an end to this. “I’m sorry. Where’s the bathroom?”
“We have an outhouse out back. Morgana, why don’t you show him?”
“No need,” he said, getting up. “I can find it.”
Before any of them could say another word, he was out the door.
17
Lucian made his way behind the home, where he found the outhouse. All he needed was a moment to think about what to do – to cut his losses and head to his own hut or follow Fergus’s orders and stay.
He had to think of some excuse to get out of this, but what? He wasn’t sure even that would solve the problem. She had shown up at his hut last night, so he wouldn’t put it past her to do the same thing again.
All he had to do was survive dinner. After that, her parents would surely be a curb on her behavior.
His thoughts were broken with the sound of footsteps approaching from outside.
“Lucian?” Morgana called. “I hope everything is all right?”
“Rotting hell,” he muttered. He wasn’t sure how to respond. “I’m fine. You can go back inside.”
She did not go back inside. Instead, she took a few steps closer to the outhouse door. “I guess things got a little . . . heated . . . in there.”
Well, at least she was admitting it. “What’s gotten into you? You’re making things really awkward.”
It was quiet for a while, almost long enough for Lucian to think she had gone. Then she stepped closer, and the door moved, as if she had placed her hand on it. One move, and she could push it open. “I’ve never seen anyone like you before. Handsome. Brave. And . . . you’ve seen things. I want you to tell me stories of what it’s like out there. Off Psyche.”
“Maybe later. If you control yourself. Just don’t open the door.”
“Don’t worry. I wouldn’t do anything you don’t want me to do, Lucian.”
Lucian nearly choked. He had to be careful with his answer. The last thing he needed was for her to become angry or cry. But at the same time, she was pulling no punches. He couldn’t let her manipulate him. For some reason, he was reminded of what Elder Erymmo had said, how people could easily be influenced to act a certain way even without the aid of magic.
Well, he couldn’t let her do that to him.
“All that stuff at the dinner table,” he said. “You need to cut it out. All you’re doing is making me angry. You don’t want that, do you?”
She laughed. “Angry? That was just a bit of fun.”
“For you, maybe. I don’t like it.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Do you really want to know?”
At that point, she began pushing on the door, which Lucian kept shut with his foot. The time for words was over.
He streamed a small bit of Psionic Magic, enough to push the door wide open. Morgana sprawled backward with a startled cry, tripping over her skirts and falling into the dirt, her eyes wide as saucers. When she got up in a huff, her cheeks were red and her eyes had narrowed dangerously.
“Lucian! How . . . how dare you! You’ve dirtied my clothes.”
Lucian had to say, it was satisfying to have the upper hand for once. “Now, let’s get through dinner peacefully. No more games.”
She watched him for a moment, as if sizing him up again. There was something dangerous in her eyes, something that made her seem much older. He knew that was crazy because she was just an impulsive young woman.
“Very well,” she said, icily.
She headed back toward the house. Lucian waited a couple more minutes before he followed.
Hopefully, things went better when he returned.
For the rest of dinner, Morgana was the picture of perfect propriety. Lucian was even beginning to enjoy himself, especially when the mystika loosened tongues. Kieron told crazy stories about his hunting trips.
“You have to come upon the wyverns from above,” he said. “Not easy, that. They nest high in the mountains, and it’s rotting hard to breathe up there.”
“Kieron . . .” Julia said, warningly. “No cursing at the dinner table.”
“Forgive me, dear.” He refocused on Lucian. “And the stalking is most certainly not easy when wyverns are so good at smelling. But granted you can get above them, the rotting bastards never think to look up.”
“Kieron, language!” Julia chided.
“Interesting expletive,” Lucian said. “I haven’t heard it outside of Psyche.”
“Really, now?” Kieron said. “I wouldn’t know. Anyway, the only way you can hunt wyverns is with spears and harpoons.”
“And magic,” Lucian said.
“Aye, that too, though only mages have that benefit.”
“A pity they can’t be trained to carry people,” Morgana said. “They are certainly large enough.”
Kieron had a laugh at that. “They are wild beasts, Morgana. They would never consent to be flown by the likes of a human.”
“They say the Queen’s Mage-Knights fly them.”
Kieron dismissed her with a wave of his hand. “Stories. If the Mage-Knights flew them, the Riftlands would be under the Queen�
�s full control by now.”
“Cleon has told me as much.”
Kieron blew a raspberry. “He tells tales if he thinks it might earn him a pretty girl’s favor.”
Morgana was about to contest that, but Julia cut her off. “What are you doing, passing time with Cleon? I don’t want you anywhere near a man from Dara.”
“I saw him in the store, and besides, he was the one who talked to me.” She blinked her eyes innocently. “Anyway, we got to talking. He mentioned the hunt, and said the wyverns aren’t much to worry about, that the people of the Golden Vale hardly paid them any mind. The Queen’s magic is enough to tame them. And the Mage-Knights’ valor, of course.”
“That Cleon spins some wild tales,” Kieron grumbled. “You shouldn’t believe every word that comes out of his mouth. You should know better.”
Morgana’s face hardened. “I do know better, Father. I’m thirteen, a grown woman.”
Lucian almost spit out his mystika, until he remembered the years were longer here. That was probably eighteen or nineteen in Earth years.
Kieron waved a warning finger at her. “The fact you’re sniffing around the likes of Cleon and not speaking to this perfectly suitable young man right here tells me you are not grown.”
Lucian coughed. From the corner of his eye, he could see Morgana smirk. Was Kieron hoping to set him up with his daughter? Like rotting hell that was going to happen.
“Kieron,” Julia said. “I think you’ve had enough tonight.”
“Cleon and I were only talking, Father,” Morgana said. “That is not a crime in Kiro, is it?”
Kieron, with some effort, took his hand off his cup of mystika, not seeming to have a response.
It was getting late, and Lucian could no longer hide his fatigue. He tried to stifle a yawn.
“It’s time you got to bed, Lucian,” Julia said. “You’ve a long day tomorrow, and no doubt had an exhausting one today.”
“What about our parlor games?” Morgana asked. “I wanted to be partnered with Lucian.”
Kieron looked up at that. “Well, if Lucian isn’t opposed . . .”
“I’m afraid I can’t,” Lucian said. “I can’t keep my eyes open a minute longer.”
“He’s tired,” Julia said, her tone brooking no argument. “Morgana, could you show him to bed?”
“I’d be delighted,” she said, her voice far too cheery. Before he could protest, she took his hand and guided him toward the ladder. There had to be more than one room up there, because that seemed to be where Morgana’s quarters were, and surely, they wouldn’t put him, a stranger, in the same room as her. She went up the ladder, and he waited until she was at the top before he followed.
What he found was a cozy space, with a small bed in the corner, a chest, and then another cot which had been made up on the opposite side. Well, it did look as if he’d be sharing the space with Morgana, but it seemed flirtation was far from her thoughts for the moment.
“This is your bed,” she said, her voice somewhat cold as she led him to the cot. “I hope it’s comfortable enough.” Lucian just stared, wondering how he was going to survive the night. Morgana watched him, arching an eyebrow. “What? Are you waiting for me to tuck you in? Or do you want a story?”
“Morgana, are you mad about earlier?”
“Of course,” she said. “That was uncalled for!”
Lucian wanted to argue, but it would be better to just agree with her and apologize. He would be out of here tomorrow, and the last thing he needed was drama. “You’re right. I went a bit too far.”
“Save it,” she said, crossing her arms.
“Look, I’m sorry it had to come to that earlier, but you were crossing the line. I dealt with it as I saw fit.”
She was already heading down the ladder, completely ignoring him. Lucian shook his head. It was useless, but at least he had the space to himself for now.
He pulled back his own blanket, opting to keep his clothes on, given the circumstances. The sooner he got some shuteye, the better.
It was quiet, and Lucian was so tired that he had almost completely nodded off, safe in the knowledge that his Psionic ward was still active. Reaching for his Focus, he could feel its presence, as well as his depleted supply of ether. The ward should last him the rest of the night.
Within moments, Lucian was asleep.
18
Lucian awoke to someone grasping him from above. He was about to shout, but felt a hand over his mouth.
“Hush, now,” Morgana said. “You’ll wake everyone. This is important.”
Though her voice was calm, there was something in it that seemed off. He didn’t trust it. Lucian writhed away, but she stood before his cot, blocking his escape. In the darkness, her eyes held a curious violet glow.
“Morgana, what are you doing?”
“Please, listen. There isn’t much time. I can’t be here long.”
Can’t be here long? What in the Worlds was she talking about?
“You must tell me where you’re going, Lucian. More is at stake than you know. We are allies, not enemies, as others would have you believe.”
“Morgana, what in the Worlds . . .?”
At once, he realized the truth: those violet eyes were a sign of Psionic control. And he remembered where he had heard that same tone of voice.
The person possessing Morgana was none other than the Sorceress-Queen herself.
“How is this possible?”
“Never mind that. You are Chosen, Lucian. And we must work together for the good of all. I have a plan, but it requires your help. Get to the Deepfork, and I can explain more.”
“What’s your plan?”
“There isn’t time, Lucian. It’s hard to reach you from this far. If you try to get the Orb on your own, you will never make it.”
“I can’t trust you,” he said, hardly believing he was talking to the Sorceress-Queen. “Your men tried to kill me in the Greenrift.”
“Kill? No they didn’t. They were trying to find you. More is at stake than you know. Remember the Deepfork, Lucian. Meet me there.”
Morgana cried out and tumbled forward, the violet in her eyes fading. Lucian ran forward to catch her.
Footsteps ran up from the floor below, toward the ladder.
“What’s going on?” Kieron shouted from below.
In a moment, he was in the loft, his eyes wide and expression fearful, with Julia not far behind.
Lucian knew the scene didn’t look good. Morgana had screamed and was in his arms, her chest heaving and expression terrified. Lucian stood facing her, looking like a predator on the attack.
Kieron’s face reddened. “You step away from her right now.”
Julia was already pulling her daughter away, covering her protectively.
“Where am I?” Morgana asked. “What’s happening?”
Julia looked at Lucian, her eyes seething. “What did you do to her?”
Lucian’s heart was stabbed with horror. He tried to respond, but didn’t know how to convince them of what had really happened. Or whether they would even believe him.
“Get out of my house,” Kieron said, stepping forward. Lucian backed into the corner. He didn’t want to have to stream, but Kieron seemed ready to use those big muscles to snap his neck.
“I know it’s hard to believe,” Lucian said, “but Morgana was somehow possessed by the Sorceress-Queen. The Queen was trying to get a message to me. She should be herself now.”
Kieron paused, if only for a moment. Whatever he had been expecting Lucian to say, that wasn’t that. “What are you going on about, boy?”
“It’s true,” Lucian said. “If we can bring one of the Elders here, they will back me up.”
Julia looked at her daughter, unsure. “She has been acting rather moonstruck lately. Ever since Lucian got here. It goes beyond Lucian being a handsome young off-worlder. She’s also been more . . . mouthy than usual. Not herself in the least.”
“Morgana has always be
en like that,” Kieron said. “We can’t let him get away with this! I let him into our home! We fed him, drank with him, shared our table with him!”
“Kieron, calm down before you do something stupid. Have you really not been paying attention to your own daughter? Something strange is going on. There’s something in her eyes. I know our daughter, Kieron, and her eyes have always been brown. But these past couple days they have almost looked . . . purple.”
For the first time, doubt entered Kieron’s features. “Are you saying you believe him?”
“It doesn’t seem he’s lying, Kieron.”
Lucian was grateful that Julia’s cooler head had prevailed. “As far as I understand, violet eyes seem to be a sign of possession.”
“Possession?” Kieron asked, his eyes widening. “How can the Queen do that all the way from Dara?” He pointed an accusing finger at Lucian. “Maybe you’re the one controlling her mind! And maybe my wife’s mind, too! The Elders will hear of this!”
The burly blacksmith’s voice was shaking. With a start, Lucian realized the strong man was afraid of him. Muscles could do nothing against magic, but even so, his fists were balled up, as if he were ready to fight to the death for his family.
“Kieron, he’s not controlling me,” Julia said. “Do you see my eyes?” Julia took his hands, holding him steadily. “It’s me. You’ve looked into these eyes a thousand times by now. More than that. Now tell me. Who is staring back?”
Kieron’s lip quivered for a moment. “It’s you, Julia. It’s you.”
“Kieron is right about one thing,” Lucian said. “We should get Elder Erymmo here. He knows about these things.”
“That’s the best idea we’ve had so far,” Julia said. “He’s the best Psionic in the village.”
Morgana gave a stifled cry, and Julia rubbed her back. “It’s all right, dear. Things will be cleared up soon.”
Morgana’s eyes went to Lucian, seeming to see him for the first time. “Lucian? What are you doing here?”
“She doesn’t seem to remember a thing,” Julia said. “What’s the last thing you remember, darling?”