Neither Martin nor Elizabeth would forget the third day of the siege of Freeburg for the rest of their lives. It was one of the days their friend Frances was most ashamed of.

For Martin, the day started with an early morning jog. After that, he cleaned himself up and sat down at the mess table.

Elizabeth and Frances were already there, quietly eating their porridge. Talk over breakfast was small and inconsequential until Elizabeth had brought up the question of taking out the cannons.

“I have a plan.” With later hindsight, Elizabeth and Martin will realize that the softness of their friend’s voice had disguised an edge to her words. At that time, though, Frances’s smile disarmed any suspicion. “I’ll need some time to put it in place because I’m not sure if it will work. Can you go to the meeting place so we can explain what happened to everybody and ask for their opinions?”

Martin nodded agreeably. He didn’t like to pry and if Frances said she needed some time then who was he to question it?

Elizabeth hadn’t thought too much of what her friend said either, though, it was more cryptic then she usually was. The tall girl was also distracted by her own thoughts about how to surmount the cannon.

And so, the tree of them parted. Frances walked off to where she was going to put her plan together. Elizabeth and Martin were going to meet the assembling classmates.

Almost everybody, but Jessica and Leila were there, and because they were Jessica and Leila, Martin and Elizabeth had started the briefing without the pair. It had gone quickly and was met with aghast looks. Nobody was eager to charge into cannon fire, so there were a lot of suggestions. To facilitate the discussion, Elizabeth had broken the group into several smaller ones so that they could all work on different ideas separately.

Abruptly, the discussion on how to best address the new development was broken.

“Stop! Please!”

Springing to her feet. Adrenaline leant speed to Elizabeth’s long legs and thanks to her Otherworlder strength she easily outpaced Martin. Something seems familiar about these voices - was Elizabeth’s last thought before she turned a corner, laid eyes on the scene, and her world seemed to turn upside down.

Minutes ago…

Despite a niggling voice at the back of her mind about whether this was the right thing, there was a clarity to Frances’s thoughts as she marched toward Jessica and Leila’s tents. She’d made up her mind. Just in case, before she had set out that morning, she’d touched of Ivy’s Sting varnished handle.

Her wand had seemed slightly hesitant about her master’s course of action. It had seen her master’s bullies and knew what they had done. As the pair communed, and the more that Frances shared her fears about what the bullies might do, what they had done, the more her wand voiced its agreement. Along with this agreement, Frances could sense her wand’s own fear, about losing the person she cared for, and anger at those who had hurt and continued to disrespect her master.

That was all the confirmation she needed. Now, as Jessica and Leila, who were wiping their faces with towels, noticed her approach, Frances slowed her march to a walk.

“Jessica, Leila, good morning”

Jessica, already frowning, dropped her towel aside and crossed her arms. “What are you doing here, fo—Frances.”

“I have new orders for you.” Frances cleared her throat and delivered the prepared words. “Given your continued insubordination in carrying out appropriate punishments, I’m assigning you a punitive task.”

Yawning, Leila rose to her feet, cracking her knuckles. Once upon a time they would have made Frances flinch with fear, but now, she didn’t even blink. “Insubordination? On what—”

“Witnessed by myself and the latrine captain, you were using magic to dig and fill the latrine hole when my orders were to complete the task without magic.” Not letting the pair reply, Frances hissed, “That is why I’m assigning you a mission that will facilitate our assault on Freeburg. Given the dangerous conditions, you are permitted and encouraged to use magic.”

A tremor ran through Jessica’s shoulders as she tensed. “What kind of dangerous mission?”

Frances crossed her arms, having a pretty good idea of how they were going to react to what she was going to say. “The Alavari have mounted cannons on the walls of Freeburg. Tonight, you two are to get close to the walls and take out the cannons—”

“You’re sending us on a suicide mission!” Leila exclaimed, her eyes wide.

Frances shrugged. “We know the force holding the fortress is made up of orcs. I know from experience that they have very bad night vision. So, at night, with your magic, it’ll be unlikely they can hit you and you’ll probably be able to complete the mission without them even shooting near you.”

“But they might.” Although she was gritting her teeth, Jessica made a valiant effort to smile. “Perhaps it may be better if you ask someone more acquainted with this sort of work. It does not need to be us. Perhaps you know some acquaintances that would volunteer, or maybe we can have some archers from Conthwaite launch this attack?”

“Yes, but unlike you, they die if they get hit. You and Leila would just get sent home.” Frances tilted her head up. “As for my acquaintances, I have need of them in other roles for this assault.”

“So that’s what this is all about.” There was almost a growl to Jessica’s voice and Frances could see her grip tighten around her staff. “You want to keep yourself and your friends safe and us gone. We’re expendable, your friends aren’t.”

Frances let the truth of the statement wash over her like a breeze because she didn’t need to explain herself to the two bullies. Her bullies had a home to go back to. Frances had a family that was going to torture her. Besides, she was hardly going to put her friends in danger. Her former bullies just needed to do what they were told, or suffer the consequences. She wasn’t going to be afraid of them any longer.

“You have your orders.” Her tone was level as she watched the rage and slowly growing concern on her former bullies’ faces. “You may take it up with Baroness Igraine, but since I’m sparing her the need to get Dale-folk hurt, and I’m also punishing two continuously insubordinate mages with a task that isn’t that dangerous, I don’t think she’ll disagree with me.”

“You fucking think so?” Leila marched toward Frances who braced herself as the other girl stomped in so close that she was looking down on her. “What you are going to do right now, you little twerp, is ask someone else to take out those cannons because we are not doing it! You hear me?”

Leila bellowed those last words and Frances wincing, stepped back. Her former bully beamed in triumph.

That smile stung as much as Leila’s punches had stung, and suddenly, the fear returned but it didn’t return alone.

“You have no choice,” she hissed, not hiding the bitter hurt and jealousy at her bullies wealth of options.

It was Leila’s turn to blink and flinch as Frances, her hand gripping her wand, glared right back. Her shoulders were shaking. Her feet were braced. She wanted to run, but every muscle in her body was tensed. She had to stand and fight, force the situation into her control.

“You disobey me, you hurt me, I’m taking it straight to Baroness Igraine and you bet the War Council will hear of this. Do they need you? Yeah, but do you need their food? Their equipment? Their beds and clothing?” Frances took a step forward and this time, Leila stepped back. “Lay a hand on me. I dare you. Come on! Don’t you want to find out the reason my master is called the Skinmelter?”

Someone tall with blonde hair blocked her path. Frances nearly shoved her aside, but the desperate cry arrested her advance.

“Frances, please. Don’t hurt her!”

Jessica was shaking, her eyes were moist. She’d dropped her staff and her hands were raised in front of her. Frances had never seen the bully like this before. Scared, and crying, fully aware that she could do nothing to stop the person in front of her.

It was so shocking, Frances stood there, staring at Jessica, unable to speak.

Leila’s jaw was agape too. “Jess what are you—”

“We’re in the shit, Leila. We’re in so much shit.” Jessica swallowed, and even as she turned to her friend, her eyes were still on Frances. “Don’t you get it? She can end us right here and nobody would punish her for it. Everybody hates us, and Frances has all the adults on her side!”

“It’s just foul Francey—”

“Call me that one more time!” Frances roared her wand coming up and pointing right at Leila’s nose. The former bully, eyes wide, backed away, but her old victim stormed forward. “Come on! Is it so hard or are you scared?”

“Please, Frances. I know you’re angry. But… but I’m begging you, please don’t send us out there.”

Frances turned from the stunned Leila to the cringing Jessica, whose head was bowed, tears pouring down her cheeks, hands shielding herself. It was a sight far too familiar to her. She’d been in that very position, that very stance.

Something about that look on Jessica. The bully that had made her lick her feet, who had shoved her into showers and doused her in freezing water, simultaneously horrified, and enraged Frances. This wasn’t fair. She didn’t deserve to look that pitiful. Not after everything she’d done.

Besides, Frances vividly remembered Jessica and Leila laughing at her pleas for mercy. They deserved none.

And how could they beg not to go home when their homes were whole?

“You have your orders.”

As Jessica’s desperate look fell into an expression of despair, Leila pulled her friend into a hug, snarling at Frances, “You sick fuck! Bet you feel real good about this. Joke’s on you. Do your worst. We’re not doing what you want.”

Frances narrowed her eyes. Every fibre of her body screamed for her to do something to the bullies and reestablish control. If she lost control they’d start to disrespect her. If they didn’t respect her then they’d tried to harm her and her friends, and the whole cycle would start again. “You are disobeying a direct order.”

Leila pulled a worried-looking Jessica up. “Fuck you.” She pulled her friend away, but Frances stepped in front of them. Ivy’s Sting in hand, just waiting for an excuse to cast.

“Last chance.”

Jessica swallowed. “Leila maybe we should listen to her. It’s not like she’s having us dig in the open.”

Despite how her emotions seemed to swing between keen rage and nervous anxiety, Frances nodded. She only wanted her bullies cowed and she seemed to have succeeded with Jessica—

Something wet hit Frances’s right eye and spluttering, she wiped her face with the corner of her sleeve. It was sticky and white-yellow in color, and Leila was sneering at her, even as Jessica looked stricken. That was when Frances realized she’d been spat on.

“Look at her Jess. Look at her tremble. She’s too scared to tell on us. Besides, what is she going to do now? Cry to her oh-so-powerful mentor that she got spat on?”

A screeching note filled the air. Leila and Jessica were hurled into the ground facefirst. Another note, another vivid recollection and the bullies lips pressed against Frances’s boots. She ripped the wand from Leila’s holster and with the same spell, Jessica’s staff flew into the air.

Her dirge holding the pair, Frances grabbed the staff with her mind and whipped it again and again over her former bullies’ backs. Shock kept the pair silent, but they were soon crying, wailing.

Their pitiful cries stoked rather than banked Frances’s heady euphoria. Jessica and Leila deserved this. They were getting a glimpse of how she had suffered. What they did to her. For once, she was taking control. She was finally standing up to these bullies. She was never going to be hurt by them, her parents, by anyone, ever again.

Yet, that somehow, that wasn’t all Frances saw. Somehow, she could see herself being hit.

With every swish of the staff, Frances flinched. Every cry, she winced. With every plea, Frances heard herself cry out. There weren’t two girls at her feet. There was only one, curled up in a fetal position, whimpering.

No, this couldn’t be happening. She was in control. She wasn’t the victim now. But the cold fear that made her heart pound didn’t lie. Neither did the onrush of memories that horrified her, and leant a desperate speed to her blows.

“Stop! Please!” Leila wailed.

“Frances, stop!”

Someone tackled her. Slamming into the ground Frances blinked, the blue sky filling her vision. A curtain of black blocked it out and Frances suddenly saw herself looking at Elizabeth.

“What are you doing?”

Frances blinked. Her mouth moved and sound came out, but she couldn’t form words. Elizabeth hauled her up by the front of her dress.

“What… why were you hitting them?” Elizabeth demanded.

“They refused to take out the cannon. Spat on me… I…”

Frances shook her head as it suddenly hit her, a torrent of cold water smashing onto her. What was she doing? This wasn’t right. How did she come to do this?

She could hear Jessica sobbing, an alien, paradoxical sound. Hear her voice crying, “We’re sorry! We’re sorry!” She could see Leila, groaning, curled up on the ground.

And watching them all were her classmates. Some of them, like Jim, seemed grimly satisfied with the bullies’ fate. Others, though, were staring at Frances.

They were staring at her with fear.