When her hand mirror started to vibrate that morning, Frances was awake. She was just enjoying being in her bedroll, with Timur’s arms wrapped around her.

Sighing, she reached over, trying to extricate herself without waking the trogrel. In his sleep, her boyfriend tried to hang onto her, so she had to gently pry his arms off.

After some twisting, she rolled off the bedroll and onto her arms. Thinking quickly, she pulled on her somewhat dusty white cloak over her nightdress, noting the gold trim on the edges was almost worn off.

Finally, she flipped her handmirror open and nearly dropped it.

“Your Highness!”

The raven-haired woman in the mirror cackled as Frances scrambled to sit herself down.

“Oh come off of it Frances and just call me Forowena. Can’t your old tactics teacher make a social call?” asked the Queen Consort of Erisdale.

“Milady—Forowena, it’s been a while,” said Frances. She took a quick breath. “How are you?”

“Just peachy,” said Forowena. She grimaced. “My bad leg’s feeling rotten thanks to this weather. I heard about your rescue mission. Did you rescue Morgan?”

“Yes,” said Frances, eyes wide. “I’m touched that you know her name.”

“Well, lately I can’t stop thinking about children,” said Forowena, drumming her fingers on her desk. Her brown eyes were downcast.

Frances swallowed. Forowena hadn’t taught Frances for a long time, but the Earl had always been good to her. Years ago, she’d taken time out of her schedule to teach Frances tactics and later, led Frances’s first actual campaign. Then the Earl was a larger-than-life, wild and crafty woman with an infectious laugh.

She did not look like that woman now.

“Forowena, is there anything I can do to help?” Frances asked.

The Earl looked up, her eyes hardening. “Are you decent?”

Frances wasn’t, but she guessed the queen wasn’t referring to her clothing. Pulling up her wand, she cast a silencing spell around herself, and nodded.

“This is a Royal Secret, for Command Level staff only,” said Forowena.

Frances nodded as a chill ran down her back. Command level included herself, her mother, Elizabeth her best friend, and a few others. It didn’t even include Martin or his fiance Ginger.

“I’m infertile,” said the queen. She raised her hand. “Let me finish.”

Frances nodded again, biting the inside of her teeth, trying to press down the sorrow and horror she felt.

“I’m checking with a few more mages and doctors, but the prognosis is bad. I’ve also asked Jerome for a divorce but that big oaf…I love him to bits, but he’s refused. At this rate, if something bad happens and we die, Erisdale is finished. Princess Janize and her new husband, Earl Darius, will inherit.” Forowena leaned forward onto her elbows. “Which is why we’re issuing this confidential Royal Decree. At all costs, by all means all Allied forces are to prioritise the death of Princess Janize and Earl Darius.” The queen consort heaved in a deep sigh. “Questions?”

“I’m so sorry, Forowena,” Frances stammered.

Earl Forowena smiled. “I know and don’t blame yourself. You and your friends introducing me to the prince was one of the best things that have happened to us. I just wish fate had different plans.”

“What about adoption?” Frances asked. “Or maybe a surrogate? Surely the other nobles will understand?”

“Surrogacy is out of the question. Not that a bastard can’t inherit the rulership of Erisdale, but Jerome isn’t interested in having a child with anybody but me. As for adoption, that’s the second thing we’re discussing. Whoever we adopt is going to become the next ruler of Erisdale and given how the war’s going, we are not going to be adopting a child. When the war is over, perhaps, but we need to designate an heir as soon as possible and we have a few candidates.”

Frances nodded, and waited for Forowena to continue.

Only to realise the Earl was intently looking at her.

“No. You’re not seriously—”

Forowena smirked. “Yes, you’re one of our candidates. You are practically married to Prince Timur. You are a powerful mage and one of our most revered heroines.”

“I’m not a born Erisdalian! I’m an Otherworlder,” Frances gasped.

“That’s why you’re not our top candidate, but we thought we’d ought to ask. I told Jerome you wouldn’t want it, so I suppose I was right.” Forowena chuckled. “If that’s the case, then can you promise to support our actual top candidate when we make our final decision?”

Frances almost said yes, but held back. “Who are you thinking of, Your Highness?”

Forowena giggled, “Still so polite, but now you are damn smart now aren’t you Frances?” The queen leaned back. “Martin and Ginger.”

She knew her friends weren’t going to like her answer. However, when the queen said their names, Frances couldn’t stop the sigh of relief that escaped her lips.

“I will.”

“Good. Now, that’s the business part over with. How are things with Timur?” Forowena asked, grinning wickedly.

“A new campaign?” Martin asked.

“One that the Lightning Battalion is to lead?” Ginger added, exchanging a glance with her fiance.

Elizabeth nodded, hoping her smile wasn’t looking too strained.

Ayax frowned, “Liz, what’s going on?” she asked, a note of concern in her voice. “You know something.”

Elizabeth scratched her head and chuckled. “I can’t hide anything from you all. It’s Command Level stuff. I can say that I’m working under orders but um, what I’m planning is going to sound a little crazy.”

“How dangerous?” Martin asked.

“I’m planning an attack on the city of Erisdale to take out Earl Darius and Princess Janize,” said Elizabeth.

Martin’s eyebrows shot up towards his hairline. Ginger lightly slapped herself. Ayax just sat there, eyes widening just a little.

“It’s not as insane as you make it sound. I mean, in the last campaigning season, King Jerome and Queen Forowena defeated their field army with our assistance,” said Ayax.

Martin nodded. “Quite handily too. I mean, if we hadn’t, we wouldn’t have been able to start raiding their labs and castles.”

“But Erisdale is quite well-defended. Any attack on that city will cost hundreds of lives.” Ginger crossed her arms. “Did the king and queen specifically order you to do this?”

“No, but they’ve approved my idea, parts of which I can’t tell you yet. Ginger, rest assured, I have no intention of throwing lives away,” said Elizabeth.

“Oh I know that Liz, but…well,” Ginger waved her hand. “Nevermind. Just my paranoia.”

“Well what are you worried about, Ginger?” Ayax asked.

Ginger sighed. “Time. Sieges are long and complicated. Disease can break out, attrition can weaken and demoralise the soldiers, and other things outside our control can mean that all that effort put into the siege can result in wasted effort. We were all at Erlenberg, we did that to Helias’s army. So unless we have a plan to capitulate them quickly, we’re not going to be able to defeat them.”

“And we’re fighting a two front war. We have to support Queen Titania’s war against Thorgoth as well. If we’re committed to the siege, our options become suddenly much more limited,” said Martin. He pursed his lips. “Unless you have a plan to shorten the siege.”

Elizabeth drummed her fingers on her desk. “I actually hadn’t considered that, thanks Ginger. Can…when I have a little more to work off of, can I pitch it to you all?”

“You better,” said Ginger, arching an eyebrow.

“We’re all ears,” said Martin, lightly.

“MM hmm,” said Ayax.

But her tail curled in a loop, and Elizabeth immediately recognized the signal. She had to call her girlfriend after this.

Ayax rode her horse a little away from the rest of the army as she pulled out her magical communicator.

“Liz?” she asked, focusing into the device.

“Hey Ayax, what’s up?” her girlfriend asked.

Ayax took a deep breath. “I didn’t feel any urge to summon the other me, but I’m not sure why.”

“You didn’t? Isn’t that amazing?” Elizabeth asked, elated.

“Yeah, but I’m worried. I mean, maybe it was because while I’m angry at Earl Darius, but I don’t feel angry at his lab or castles.” Ayax took a deep breath. “Liz, this is getting weird. Sometimes the…other me, the darker me comes out and I wreak havoc. Other times I’m fine.”

“We did think it was maybe tied to your anger,” said Elizabeth. “Maybe you’re feeling less angry than you used to?”

“Maybe, that might be it.” Ayax smiled to herself. “It’s all thanks to you, staying by me.”

“And you too. You’ve put in a lot of effort in practising your meditation and exercises,” said Elizabeth.

“Thanks.” Ayax pursed her lips. “Do you think I should go with you to besiege Erisdale, though? I’m…I’m worried that if I’m fighting Earl Darius directly, it would be far easier for me to lose control.”

Elizabeth felt herself stiffen. “Ayax, I need you. It’s already hard enough now with you away. I can’t imagine what it would be like in a siege.”

“Oh.” Ayax blinked. “Then I’ll come with you.”

“Thank you, dear. I…I’m sorry for asking you to come, though,” said Elizabeth.

“All part of being your girlfriend,” said the troll, grinning.

The Otherworlder giggled. “You are the best you know that?”

“You could stand to remind me more,” Ayax chuckled.

Morgan meandered over to where Frances was speaking with Hattie. The pair were having a rather animated, with the shorter human mage gesturing something with her wand, whilst the half-troll seemed to be almost jumping off the ground.

It was almost time for her first lesson with the Stormcaller. She supposed there were worse things that could happen. She was far more full than she’d felt in days. She also at least knew how she’d ended up in the human lab.

Morgan shook her head. Her grandfather, King Thorgoth put her there. He’d put her there to hurt her uncle because he was evil and…She swallowed. She scarcely believed it but Frances and Timur’s story had so many details, so many things that just seemed to fit with what she knew.

It even explained a little about why her uncle loved the Stormcaller.

Morgan grimaced. Not that the Stormcaller deserved her uncle’s constant affection. After all she was just—

Morgan blinked as Hattie started to sing. The half-troll had a surprisingly clear and high-pitch to her singing. Yet, despite the girl’s volume, she could hear Frances continuing to encourage her student.

“That’s it. Keep that in your head. Imagine it. Then make it happen!” Frances exclaimed.

Make what happen? Morgan sat down on the ground and immediately leapt to her feet as lightning started to spark around Hattie. She wasn’t… The Stormcaller hadn’t just…

Hattie’s song reached its climax, and as the half troll sang out the final note, there was a flash and a crack. Lightning leapt from Hattie’s wand, arching through the air to slam into a nearby hillside.

Morgan stared as Hattie spun around, breathless, a look of complete shock and awe on her features. The harpy-troll stared as Frances beamed at her taller student.

“Hattie, that was amazing. Great job.” Only now did Morgan look away. The smile and pride in the Stormcaller’s features twisted something cold in her chest.

Hattie smiled, bowing her head. “Thank you, Master.”

“You’re welcome. Now, I’d advise you to practice that for a bit. Make sure to put up your shields, though,” said Frances.

“I will. Thank you again, and um, have a good lesson with Morgan,” said Hattie.

“Thanks!” Frances turned to Morgan. “Hello, Morgan, thanks for waiting.”

Morgan rolled her eyes, but approached. It would be cool to learn lightning, but then again, the Stormcaller was probably not going to teach her anything.

“So, Morgan, I’m first going to teach you a shield spell,” said Frances.

“Eh?” The harpy frowned. “I thought you said you were going to control my magic.”

Frances shook her head. “I want to help you control your magic, Morgan.”

“Then how would teaching me a shield spell help?” the harpy hissed.

Frances paused, trying to keep smiling. “Shield spells are useful spells, and can help you to protect yourself and others. They are also considered a fairly complex kind of spell. Learning one is a good way to gauge what kind of control you are capable of.”

“Why not just get me to lift some boulders?” Morgan asked.

France frowned and suddenly recalled the huge rocks that were in the courtyard of the castle. “Oh. You were—” Frances cut herself off, taking a deep breath. “Sorry. Lifting boulders is often used as a way to measure power, even if they’re not a perfect way to do so.”

“What are you actually saying, Stormcaller?” Morgan growled.

“I said—” Frances took a breath and crossed her arms. “Sorry. Morgan, what I was trying to say is that I don’t know how good your control is and your captors were not interested in finding that out. That’s why they were making you lift boulders.”

The harpy troll frowned. “But you just said that lifting boulders isn’t a good way to measure power?”

“No, I said that they’re not a perfect way to do so, mostly because it’s not easy to measure a mage’s raw power.” Frances thought for a moment and holstered her wand. Raising her right hand, she focused on it.

“What are you—” Morgan sprang back as a crackling ball of lightning erupted in the middle of the mage’s hand. “Oh Galena what the fuck?”

“Impressive isn’t it?” Frances made a fist with her hand and the lightning disappeared. “The thing is, though, I probably would not be able to lift the boulders that you did.”

Morgan frowned. “Really?”

“Yes. One of the things with magic in Durannon is that we improve with practice and understanding. All you ever did for practice while being held captive was lift boulders. It was boring for you, wasn’t it?”

“Well yeah I mean it’s just a bunch of rocks—” Morgan blinked. “You’re saying that instead of measuring my power, they were really just seeing how used I was to lifting boulders?” At Frances’s nod, Morgan stammered, “Then why did they even bother getting me to lift boulders.”

Frances pursed her lips. It had been a question she’d been considering and she had a few guesses. They were, however, drawn from the memories of the pain she’d endured as a child.

“You know something, don’t you?” Morgan growled.

“I only have guesses, Morgan,” said Frances.

“Tell me!” the harpy-troll hissed.

Frances felt a hum in the air and swallowed. “Morgan, take a breath and count to ten.”

“Why should I? I deserve to know why they were doing that to me,” Morgan growled, the anger uncoiling in her chest.

“Morgan, listen to me—”

“Why should I listen to you?”

“I’m trying to help you, Morgan. You’re starting to escalate. You need to try to breathe, slowly,” Frances pleaded.

Something in the mage’s dire look made Morgan think. Only now did it hit her that she was hovering over the ground, but her wings weren’t flapping. She was surrounded by her violet magic, dangling in the air.

“How—what? When did I—”

“Morgan, breathe, in and out and think. What’s something that makes you feel safe? Is there someone who makes you feel safe? Any objects that comfort you.”

“Uncle Timur. Um…” Morgan winced. “Chess. Judith—” the harpy froze. “Judith. What happened to her?”

Frances blinked. “Judith?”

“The guard. My guard. Kinda plump, big woman, she was nicer. Stopped Agatha from shooting me dead, but she got hit and oh Galena…is she dead?” Morgan whispered.

“We’ll check on her right after our lesson, okay? We took a few prisoners, she’s probably among them,” said Frances. “But for now, close your eyes, think of your uncle hugging you. Breathe in… and out.”

Morgan nodded, and followed as the Stormcaller directed her, listening to the woman’s soothing, calm voice.

And just like that, Morgan felt the ground underneath her claws again. Opening her eyes, she realised that she didn’t feel angry anymore.

“Thank—” Morgan blinked. Should she thank the Stormcaller? Why did it feel right? The harpy-troll swallowed. “Thank you.”

Frances smiled. “You’re welcome. Now… the reason why your captors gave you boulders to lift is probably because they wanted to keep you exercising your magic in some way both to keep you somewhat sane and to keep your magic in shape. They probably didn’t want to give you something too dangerous to do, so lifting boulders was the most convenient way for them.”

Morgan nodded. “Yeah, that…that seems like it. They did take notes, but it was more…routine if anything.” She frowned at Frances. How did the woman just seemed to understand that? It didn’t make any sense. She supposed her captors might have left notes, but that didn’t seem to be where Frances’s guess was coming from.

Not entirely sure why her newest student was staring at her like that, Frances coughed. “Ready for the lesson, Morgan?”

The harpy-troll nodded, putting those questions to the back of her mind. She didn’t want the mage to notice. “Yes, Frances,” said Morgan, swallowing.

“Good. Let’s begin…”

Morgan stared, her hands forming into fists, as from a distance, she watched a handcuffed Judith eat with the rest of the prisoners the Lightning Battalion had taken.

“Would you like to speak with her, Morgan?” Frances asked in a quiet voice.

Morgan wondered why hadn’t she waited until her uncle was with her. Then again, he’d apparently had to have a very important meeting with Aunt Titania about the war so there was that.

Instead, all she was left with was Frances and her two human friends, Martin and Ginger.

Wait…Morgan looked at Martin and winced as she recognized the man that she’d lashed out at at the castle. He was a human but he was only trying to help.

“Um, I’m sorry for hitting you,” she stammered.

Martin smiled. “Ah, apology accepted, Morgan. You didn’t really mean to hurt me, right?”

She shook her head and Martin chuckled. “That’s good enough then.”

“You know you don’t have to speak to her right, kid?” Ginger asked, her arms crossed. “You don’t owe her anything.”

“But if it makes you feel better, Morgan, we can give you both some time. We’ll watch from a distance. She won’t be able to hurt you, but you’ll have some privacy,” said Frances.

“Not that we think she’s dangerous,” Ginger admitted. “She’s been a model inmate. No talking back against our Alavari friends, no racist or speciest slurs. She seems to have a good head on her shoulders. I wonder how such a person could end up working for Darius?”

“You fought under Darius’s command before, my love,” Martin pointed out. “We all did actually.”

“Not willingly. And you were just assigned to him briefly,” said Ginger.

“And we didn’t go along with all of his orders either,” said Frances. “I mean, we wouldn’t have attempted saving everybody at Kwent if we followed through with what he planned.”

Morgan paid attention to this banter out of the corner of her ear, as she thought about what Judith had done to her, and what she had done for her.

“I’d like to talk to her,” she said.

Frances nodded. “Then let’s do it.”

As Morgan entered the tent, she felt a hand touch her wrist.

“Morgan, if you feel uncomfortable, just leave,” said Frances.

Morgan, not moving forward, turned to face her jailer.

Judith’s hands and feet were manacled. She was sitting ramrod straight in her chair, her brown eyes flickering between Frances and Morgan. Her hands had formed fists.

Fists that had at times, hit Morgan, and at times, had held out her dinner.

“It’s safe, Morgan. She’s locked up, and I’ll be just outside.”

Morgan’s gaze whipped back to Frances, who smiled comfortingly. “How did you—” the harpy-troll blinked as she suddenly realised that she’d grabbed onto the Stormcaller’s hand. She yanked her hand out, finding that she missed the warmth, but hating her show of weakness.

“How would you know I’m in trouble,” Morgan asked.

“You wouldn’t be in trouble. She’s bound in metal chains and the moment you scream, I, Martin and Ginger will be inside in a moment.” Frances pursed her lips. “I could stay here if you’d like, but I thought you’d prefer your privacy.”

Morgan took a deep breath.

Let the Stormcaller say and witness everything.

Let the Stormcaller leave and…and have whatever Judith might say trigger her magic, and kill her jailer.

“Stay, please.”

Frances’s eyes widened for a moment, but she nodded and stepped into the tent. She put herself against the wall, not making a sound.

Morgan turned to Judith and took a seat at the opposing chair. The words in her mind tried to string themselves together into coherent sentences, but nothing really seemed to form.

Judith swallowed. “Hey kid.”

“Hey.”

Judith closed her eyes. “I’m sorry.”

“What?”

“I’m…I’m sorry. Look, I don’t expect you to forgive me, but…I’m sorry.”

Morgan stared at the woman, her mouth agape.

“Why did you do it?” she asked.

Judith squirmed, unable to meet Morgan’s glare.

“Why did you do it?” Morgan demanded. “Why the fuck did you do this to me, Judith?”

“I was following orders. I…I didn’t know what else to do,” Judith stammered.

“Bullshit! You knew what you were doing was wrong! You were the only person who ever gave a damn about me!”

“I didn’t know what else to do, Monster—”

Morgan, lunged across the table, tears of rage running down her cheeks, only to be yanked back by a surprisingly firm hand. Frances was suddenly beside her. The harpy-troll grimaced, anticipating a rebuke.

There was one give, but it wasn’t to her. Frances turned to Judith, her amber eyes hard.

“Her name is Morgan Greyhammer. If you call her that one more time, you’ll have to face me.”

Frances was by far the shortest in the room, but that just made her cold tone sound far more menacing. It made both Morgan and Judith shiver.

“Yes ma’am,” stammered Judith.

Frances nodded and backed away, letting go of Morgan’s shoulder.

“Sorry,” Judith said.

“I’m sorry. What were you saying?” Morgan asked.

“I…I was trying to say.” Judith bowed her head. “I don’t know how to explain it. I knew it wasn’t quite right. In fact, I know some of the other guards were hesitant about imprisoning you, experimenting on you.”

“But you did it anyway?” Morgan asked.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t know what else to do. I mean, if I tried to defect, they’d kill me and there was no way to do so. It’s…it’s a stupid reason, but this was my job and I didn’t like it, but it’s all I have.” Judith swallowed.

A curse was on the tip of Morgan’s tongue, held back only by her memories of Judith always standing a little apart from the other guards and mages. She’d chat with them on occasion, but she was never close to them. Never overly friendly or intimate.

She did have no one, aside from her job.

“Why did you save me, then?” Morgan asked, remembering Judith raising the gun. “Why didn’t you just shoot me?”

Judith sighed. “You may have been—dangerous, and an Alavari, but you were also just a kid. I couldn’t. It was too much. And…and maybe I was just hoping that they could rescue you from us.”

Morgan wiped her eyes, blinking back tears.

“What’s going to happen to you now?”

Judith shook her head, which led to Frances speaking up.

“We’ll go through the courts first. Depending on what they have done, they’ll either go to prison or be paroled. I believe that based on her actions, Judith will be paroled.” The Stormcaller smiled. “If you’d both like, I can arrange to have her paroled to Athelda-Aoun.”

“No.” Morgan’s glance shot to Judith, who was meeting Frances’s gaze resolutely. “Thank you, Lady Stormcaller, but while that’s very kind of you, I don’t believe that will be good for Morgan.”

“Judith, what do you mean?” Morgan asked.

The guard glanced at Frances, before turning back to Morgan.

“Kid, I was your jailor. I hurt you, no matter what I truly wanted, I hurt you. I helped keep you from your friends and family. You’re better off without me around.”

“But—”

“I know you’re scared, Mo—rgan, but I can’t be your jailor. It’s not going to be good for you. Besides, you got other people like the Stormcaller taking care of you now.”

“She’s just some human mage!” Morgan exclaimed.

“She’s the most powerful and honourable mage of her age, and a friend to all of your kind. Even we knew that her character was beyond reproach,” said Judith. She smiled and Morgan found that of all the expressions her guard had ever shown her, this was the happiest she’d seen her. “You’re lucky to have her on your side.”

Morgan turned to Frances. Was this some setup by the Stormcaller? Only, the mage frowning, her eyes narrowed.

“You’re very kind,” said Frances.

“I’m only trying to fix what I did,” said Judith, turning back to Morgan. “Do you understand, Morgan.”

The harpy-troll nodded. “I…I do.” She took a deep breath.

Judith had hurt her. Hit her before, with fist and spear. She’d kept her captive, and called her a monster. Those recollections mingled with other memories of chess matches, discussions about books and moments of small, depressed laughter.

Yeah she was a monster, but without Judith…

“Thank you,” said Morgan. She swallowed. “Goodbye.”

Judith dipped her head. “Goodbye Princess,” said the guard.