Frances saw the emotions flit across Morgan’s face first and so she immediately understood why the harpy-troll threw away her uncle’s hand.
Her beloved Timur wasn’t so fast on the uptake. He stared at his niece, a look of abject confusion on his face. “Morgan?”
“You’re…you’re fucking her?”
“Morgan what—where did you even learn—”
“You’re fucking a human? You’re fucking the people who threatened to rape me? Who experimented on me? Who tied me down to a table and stuck stones into my body?”
Timur stared at his niece, his mouth slightly apart, tail limp on the ground, looking completely devastated. Frances knew why. One moment, he’d been overjoyed, in the next, all that joy had just turned to ash.
Thankfully, Frances had an idea of what Morgan was thinking.
“Morgan, I can see you’re angry and I understand why. They…these humans did horrible things to you and you have so much fury and hatred for them. You’re wondering how could your beloved uncle be in love with one, after all they’ve done to you, right?” Frances pursed her lips. This was a bit of a guess, but she remembered how worried and anxious she’d felt when she was younger, especially about how Edana felt about her. “You’re also worried that if your uncle is in love with one, does he even truly care about you?”
More emotions seemed to flit across the young teen’s face.
“How…how the fuck do you know that?” Morgan growled.
“I…it’s not hard to guess,” said Frances.
“Bullshit. You’re lying.”
Frances grimaced. She couldn’t tell if Morgan was just cursing at her because she knew Frances was being evasive, or because the teen was just trying to get a rise from her.
What should she do? What would her mother, Edana have done?
“I’m not telling you everything, Morgan. It is not the right time or place. Let’s just say I have some experiences that give me a bit of insight,” said Frances.
Morgan took another step back, her arms crossed. “No! Tell me now or I’m not going anywhere!”
Frances grimaced, trying to think of a different approach.
“Morgan! Frances nearly killed herself trying to save you a year ago!” Timur exclaimed, finally having found his voice.
“She’s just some disgusting human!” Morgan crossed her arms. “Grandfather was right to start this war with them—”
“Your grandfather was the one who had you kidnapped by these humans!”
Frances sighed as Morgan stared at her uncle.
“You’re lying. That…that can’t be true. That isn’t true! You’re lying!”
Timur sighed and took a step forward. “Morgan, it’s true—”
“Get away from me!”
A violet glow surrounded Timur and he was suddenly flying backwards. He’d have gone headfirst into a stone wall. Only Frances’s reflexes, honed by years of war, managed to grab onto her suddenly airborne boyfriend and set him back on the ground. He was shivering, shaken by the flight, but alright.
Frances whirled on Morgan, about to rebuke the girl, only to stop. The harpy-troll was staring at her trembling uncle, her eyes widening, her pupils narrowing to pinpricks.
“I…Oh God. I…I almost killed him. I almost killed—”
Frances snapped her fingers and called out in a clear voice. “Morgan, count to ten with me. One. Two…”
To Frances’s relief, the panicked girl did just that, staring at her as she did. When Morgan finished, she was breathing a lot more evenly.
“Morgan, you didn’t kill your uncle, and he’s not angry at you. He’s just a little surprised,” said Frances, she smiled at Timur, who nodded.
“I’m fine, Morgan. I’m sorry for getting frustrated. I shouldn’t have snapped like that.”
“No, it’s my fault. I…” Morgan glanced at Frances, before bowing her head towards Timur. “I’m sorry.”
Timur chuckled wearily. “It’s alright. Hug?”
Morgan nodded, and walking over to the trogre, buried herself into her uncle’s arms.
Frances smiled, but as Timur ruffled his niece’s hair, he exchanged a glance with her.
It didn’t need to be said. They both knew that Morgan had a long, long road ahead of her.
----------------------------------------
Frances watched as Timur left the tent they’d set up for Morgan. “Is she asleep?”
“Yes. I was telling her about how we’d managed to find her,” said Timur.
“And how you deduced it after pouring over hundreds of pages of intelligence and captured supply reports?” Frances asked, smiling.
Timur smiled sheepishly. “Well, a little. I also told her of how a certain someone organised several raids that allowed us to capture those documents.”
Frances giggled. “You did most of the work, Timur. I just brewed your tea and made sure you had what you needed.”
Her prince arched an eyebrow. “Frances.”
Frances rolled her eyes. “Which is…yes, also important. Thank you.”
Timur grinned and leaned in. Frances kissed her prince lightly on the lips.
“Right, let’s meet up with the others,” said Timur. He winced. “We do have a lot to talk about.”
Frances nodded and the pair went to their appointment.
They didn’t notice the tent flap being pushed open behind them.
----------------------------------------
Monster—Morgan shook her head as she crept after the pair. That was her name. It just felt unfamiliar and alien. It didn’t really belong to her. But it had been her name all along, right?
The harpy-troll wiped her eyes. It was so strange. Her uncle was still just as bad as before when it came to seeing if she was asleep or not. He was still her uncle, still funny, still kind, still loving. But so much was just so different.
His floozy. His bedwarmer, the Stormcaller, was leaning on his arm like some whore. She hated that, and how he occasionally rubbed his nose into the much shorter woman’s head.
They sat down near a fire with several others. Morgan recognized the flame-haired woman and the young knight that she’d seen in the hall. There were two others, though, a black-haired troll who lounged by the fire with the grace of a cat, and a harpy.
As quietly as she could, she put herself beside a rock and lay flat on the ground.
“How is Morgan doing?” the knight asked. Morgan remembered his name was Martin.
“She’s asleep. She’ll need a lot of time to recover,” said Frances.
“It sounded like she was in some kind of Mage Trance,” said the troll.
“We’re digging through the notes on what they did to her. It seems that she was Darius’s most promising experiment.” Morgan blinked as her uncle growled. “If I ever get my hands on him…”
“Get in line,” said Ginger. She was rubbing Martin’s stomach with her left hand, which Morgan noticed had a ring. Martin had a matching ring as well. “So…who is going to take care of Morgan?”
“I want to, but she doesn’t like Frances at all.” Timur sighed. “I’m sorry, dear.”
“I don’t blame her. What they did to her was horrible.” Frances took a deep breath. “Renia, what do you think?”
Morgan’s gaze flicked over to the harpy and couldn’t stop staring.
She was older than the others, but she was gorgeous. Morgan couldn’t understand just how her body had curves in all the right places, and her plumage was a fabulous reddish gold, like autumn leaves. Her golden eyes, though, were filled with sorrow, despite being perfectly almond-shaped.
“Frances, I…I’m not sure,” said the harpy.
The Stormcaller pursed her lips. “I think we should tell her everything. What they did to her, why was she there, everything. Be as upfront with her. It will be overwhelming, but it’s the right thing to do.”
Morgan’s mouth opened, and she shut it so hastily she was worried that somebody might have heard the clack of her teeth.
Frances was arguing that she wanted to let Morgan know everything? Why would some duplicitous human who her uncle loved—no, who’d ensnared her uncle, want to be truthful?
“Everything? Would she be able to take it? To tell her everything might destroy her, Frances,” Timur stammered. “My niece…she’s suffered so much. Wouldn’t sparing her some of the truth be kinder?”
Morgan blinked and wiped her eyes. Her uncle’s voice had pitched up as he’d spoken,
Ayax stood up. “Before we continue, let’s get some privacy spells up.”
Morgan almost groaned aloud as the two mages rose to their feet. As they sang and spoke Words of Power, a dome of magic covered the campfire and the people sitting around it. It was so complete, the harpy couldn’t even hear the crackle of the fire. Sighing, the harpy stood up and yawned. Maybe she would have better luck next time. She turned to go back to her tent.
Hattie was standing right there arms crossed, one scarred eyebrow arched.
“Hello there.”
----------------------------------------
Frances sat back down and crossing her arms, turned to her boyfriend.
“Timur, I know it will be hard, but it’ll be better than having Morgan find out later that we kept this from her. She already doesn’t trust us. If she finds out we kept this from her, it’ll be even worse.”
Timur nodded. “I…I understand, but you saw how she acted. She’s not ready to learn that her mother is still alive. We need to keep it a secret.”
“Timur—”
“I agree.”
Frances whipped her head around. Renia’s eyes met hers. The harpy was very still, a bit too still. There was a tension that ran through her wings.
“Renia, she’s your daughter. Morgan would be overjoyed to learn you survived! We’ll have to tell her about how Thorgoth killed Teutobal and tried to kill you too, so knowing you’re alive will at least make things better!” Frances exclaimed.
“I know, Frances, but I’m not ready.”
Frances couldn’t believe it. She refused to. Renia was a friend, her counsellor. She trusted the harpy, and she wasn’t going to tell her own daughter she was alive?
“What do you mean? She deserves to know the truth! We can’t keep that from her!” Renia averted her gaze, her eyes filling with tears, and Frances winced. “I’m sorry. I just don’t understand.”
“Cuz, maybe you can explain? I mean, we all have our own secrets. Why does Morgan need to know all of this?” Ayax asked.
“Because she doesn’t trust us, Ayax.” Frances took a deep breath, remembering Morgan’s braced pose, her flickering eyes. It reminded her of when she first came to Durannon. “I remember being like her. Scared, anxious, worried that anything good Edana would give me was going to be taken away. Worried that Edana didn’t actually care for me. The only reason I started to trust my mother was because she never lied to me, and if she had to hide something, she’d explain why she wasn’t telling me.” Frances nodded to herself. “That made me believe in what she was telling me, and only then did I start to believe that she really cared.”
Renia took a deep breath. “But she didn’t tell you everything, right?”
“No, but—”
“Frances, I’m not ready to take care of Morgan. I don’t think I’ll ever be!"
Frances blinked, watching as the harpy trembled, her claws clenched, tears filling her eyes. Wiping them, Renia took a deep breath and bowed her head.
“When I last saw my poor baby girl, she was three years old. It was eleven years ago. Then, I wanted her back. I wanted her in my wings. I wanted to feed her and coddle her and…and… and be her mother! That can’t happen anymore.”
Martin shook his head. “But Renia, you’re here and—”
“It can’t, Martin. My baby’s grown up. My baby is gone! I gave up all hope of ever seeing her years ago, after I fled to Erlenberg. I know I didn’t have a choice, and I know I’m a horrible, horrible mother for doing so, but my husband… Teutobal, he told me to live on. He wanted me to live and I…I…”
Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.
Frances ran around the fire, throwing her arms around the sobbing harpy. Her own heart ached as Renia shook, her cries drowning out the crackling fire.
“Renia, I’m sorry, but you’re not a horrible mother.”
Ginger, joining Frances, gently embraced her counsellor. “Yeah, what choice did you have anyway? King Thorgoth would have killed you if he knew you were alive.”
“That doesn’t excuse what I did, what I’m doing now,” Renia croaked.
Frances sighed. “Perhaps not, but I do understand what you’re saying. You haven’t been a mother in years, right? You don’t think you can just…be one again.”
Renia tried to reply. She only managed several wracking sobs into Frances’ arms. Finally, she shook her head.
Frances wiped her eyes. “I understand. I’m sorry.”
“You meant well and…Oh Galena. I’m so sorry, Frances, but…can you take care of my chick for me? Please?”
Frances let go of Renia, holding onto just the harpy’s wing. “I don’t understand.”
The harpy exhaled. “Morgan trusts Timur. She loves him. She’s maybe the only person in this world that she cares about, and he took care of her for years.”
“I wouldn’t go so far to say that. I just dropped in once in a while,” Timur stammered.
“You took care of her where Teutobal and I couldn’t, Your Highness. You read her books until she fell asleep, you wrote to her, you made sure she was taken care of, that she had a good education, a happy childhood, and you risked your life to try to rescue her. She knows that and she loves you for it.” Renia faced Frances, her eyes were still filled with tears, except there was an iron resolve in it that took Frances aback. “And Frances, if Timur is to take care of Morgan, you will help him too. You’d do it without question, and I think—no, I know it’ll be good for her.”
“Renia, I already have a student,” Frances said.
“You said it yourself. Hattie is about to graduate from your care. That’s why you brought her along on this mission. You wouldn’t have done so otherwise.”
Frances winced. “Yes, but that doesn’t mean Morgan will like me as a teacher.”
“Maybe, but you’re the only one who can restrain her magic.”
“So can my mother.”
“Your mother has your half-siblings to take care of.”
“Dwynalina?”
“Old, and do you really think cantankerous old Dwynalina is a good fit for an angry, scared and traumatised child?”
Frances shook her head, and grimaced. “Okay, I might be the only choice, but that doesn’t mean I’m going to be a good one. Morgan hates that Timur’s in love with me. Putting her with us in our home is going to be rough. I…I don’t know if I can help her.”
Renia pursed her lips. “Frances, you might be the only one who can understand my baby.”
Frances frowned. “Just because I was abused as a child, doesn’t mean I will be able to understand Morgan.”
“But you did.” Timur shuffled over to where Frances was sitting. “Mataia, you were amazing with her when she was freaking out about nearly killing me. You calmed her down. I don’t think I could have done that.”
“She did what?” Renia stammered.
Frances winced. “She nearly killed Timur, and she hurt Martin.” Pinching the bridge of her nose, Frances sighed. “Timur, are you sure you’re comfortable with this?”
“Of course!” Timur exclaimed. Frances knew her boyfriend was nodding as he did so.
“Alright, I’ll…I’ll accept this responsibility.” Frances met Renia’s grateful smile. “But I have a few conditions.”
----------------------------------------
Morgan stared at the scarred half-troll before crossing her arms.
“Hey. What are you doing here?”
“Not trying to eavesdrop on the others.” Morgan grimaced at that, and saw Hattie smirk just a little. “Aren’t you supposed to be asleep, Morgan?”
“Couldn’t stay asleep.” Morgan narrowed her eyes at the half-troll and the scar on her face. “Who are you anyway?”
“Hmm, I suppose I haven’t introduced myself.” She thrust out her hand. “Hattie Longarch. I’m Frances’s apprentice.”
Morgan gingerly shook Hattie’s hand and let go. Half-human, half troll, what exactly was this girl supposed to be?
Pretty, even after whatever happened to her face. Normal and definitely not a monster.
Morgan thrust those thoughts deep into the dark, screaming corners of her mind.
“What happened to your face?” Morgan asked. She immediately regretted that, but Hattie only rolled her eyes.
“Dragon.”
“D—dragon? Like, big scaly purple or blue dragon?”
“Yeah.” Hattie’s shoulders seemed to sag just a little. She probably wasn’t consciously doing it, but Morgan noticed.“I look pretty fucked up don’t I?”
Morgan wasn’t sure what to say. On the other, yeah, there was no disguising the horrid red scar that travelled across Hattie’s forehead and reached to her cheekbones, or the clumps of missing hair.
Yet, Morgan also noticed the almost effortless way the half-troll carried herself. It was almost statuesque how she crossed her long arms across her chest. She might have been half-human, but perhaps that was why she had softer features than that of a troll. If it weren’t for the scar she’d be…well…
“Pretty.”
Hattie snorted. “Yeah. Though I deserved it.”
“No I mean you’re pretty—” Morgan’s brain caught up and she slammed her hands over her mouth. “I mean—Why do you say that?”
If Hattie noticed, she didn’t remark on it. The only sign that she’d heard Morgan’s first comment was a brief narrowing of her eyes.
“I…Huh, I don’t think I’ve had to explain it to anybody. But…well, you know about the Dragonslayer’s curse don’t you?”
“Yeah, Uncle Timur told me about it.”
“I have it. Some great grandmother or something killed a dragon and a dragon showed up in Athelda-Aoun. Where your uncle lives now. Telkandra—the dragon—offered to leave if I gave myself up but well, I didn’t and this is the price I paid. I mean, it’s a small price, especially since I also let in that mass-murdering general Helias.” Hattie winced. “I mean he was disguised, but I wanted to hurt Frances so badly I didn’t care.”
“You what?” Morgan squawked. She raised her hands. “Sorry, how are the two even related?”
The half-blood cringed. “Well, um. It’s complicated. Frances killed my father in a battle and I really hated her, even after she tried to make it up to me. So I wanted to kill her so badly I trusted Helias like a moron.”
“But he was disguised,” Morgan stammered, wondering if she was hearing things.
Hattie swallowed. “Yes, but I…Look I deserved this scar okay?”
“Fucking hell you do. What were you supposed to do? Give yourself up to the dragon?” Morgan exclaimed.
Hattie bowed her head. “I mean…maybe? I mean, Frances keeps telling me no, and she’s usually right about these things but well, I could have done something.”
Morgan stared at Hattie wondering if her confinement had perhaps knocked a part of her brain loose. Was this what normal was supposed to be?
“Look, it all evens out. I did something wrong and I paid for it and now I’m an ugly halfblood,” Hattie smiled.
Despite Morgan having been kidnapped for a year, she could not miss how fake—no, broken the half-troll’s smile seemed.
“You’re not ugly and you didn’t deserve any of that shit,” Morgan hissed.
Hattie sighed. “Morgan, thank you for being nice but I am and I did. I was horrid to Frances and stupid.”
“I’m not being nice! I’m telling the truth. You’re pretty, not horrid and stupid. I mean, I nearly killed you, but you’re not running away from me, screaming. You’re talking to me. Treating me normally when I’m a literal fucking Monster who nearly killed her own uncle!”
Hattie blinked, staring at Morgan. The harpy-troll stared back, and felt her stomach drop.
“Morgan, what do you mean—”
“I—I—sorry. Please, please don’t tell anybody! I mean, I know I’m dangerous and I’m a monster but I—Oh Galena.” Morgan reached forward, only for Hattie to step back. “Please, I’m sorry. I know they suspect but if they find out for sure they’ll lock me up because that’s what they do to monsters—”
“Morgan, none of them are going to lock you up—”
“They don’t know what I can do! How many people I have hurt and killed!” Morgan clamped her hands over her mouth, but it was too late. Hattie’s dark blue eyes were wide and she was very very still.
“Morgan? What are you doing awake?” Timur asked.
Morgan spun around. The privacy dome was down, the eyes of all the adults were all on her.
And she couldn’t miss how Frances' gaze went to Hattie.
“Hattie, what’s going on?” the Stormcaller asked.
Morgan froze. She was in trouble now. She was in so much trouble.
“Nothing, Master. Morgan couldn’t sleep, so we were just talking.”
What. Whirling around Morgan found Hattie trying to smile casually, and failing, but she wasn’t telling them. She wasn’t screaming about how Morgan was a monster, but did the adults trust her? Would they press her? What happened if they did?
“Alright, but Morgan really should be sleeping. We have a long road ahead,” said Frances.
“Mm hmm, come on, Morgan, I’ll read you another story, would you like that?” Timur asked.
“Yes please,” Morgan stammered. As he approached, she glanced at Hattie and mouthed a quiet ‘thank you.’
The half-troll smiled and unlike the other times, it was not a broken smile. That smile made Morgan stare, for it was probably the prettiest she’d ever seen the half-troll.
“I see you’re getting along well with Hattie,” said Timur.
Her uncle was grinning a little and Morgan felt her face heat up.
“And what of it?”
“Nothing. She’s very nice and responsible.” Timur gently ruffled Morgan’s hair, like he’d used to do. Morgan winced at first, but smiled as long hands rumpled her red locks. “You were pretending to be asleep weren’t you?”
“Wait, how did you—”
“I didn’t, but I know you’re anxious and scared Morgan. I mean, this is very new for you, and it’s still very new for me,” said Timur, his tone rueful. “We’ll tell you more about what we discussed in the bubble tomorrow alright? So can you be patient for a little while longer?”
Morgan nodded. “I can do that.”
“That’s the spirit,” said Timur. “Why don’t I tell you a little about how we escaped from your grandfather?”
Morgan’s pointed ears stood on end “I heard a little about that, but I couldn’t believe it. What happened?”
“Well to start with…”
----------------------------------------
With the adults dispersing, Hattie let out a sigh of relief. Wringing her hands, she made to walk back to her tent.
Only to jump a few inches into the air as she found her master standing patiently by the fire.
“Oh, Frances, I…I didn’t see you.”
“Mm hmm.” Frances smiled. “I think you and Morgan weren’t just talking about nothing. I just need to know. Did you lie because you were threatened?”
“No! I mean, Morgan’s a little scary—but no, she didn’t threaten me.” Hattie paused. Her thoughts a whirl in her head. “I’m sorry, I want to tell you, Master, but I don’t think I should, even though maybe I should.”
“Hattie, you don’t need to tell me,” said Frances. She stepped up to Hattie and reached up to pat her student on the shoulder, who had not too long ago, overgrown her. “If she didn’t threaten you, then I trust your judgement.”
Hattie smiled briefly, but doubt itched back onto her features. “But what if I’m wrong?”
“Then you’re wrong, but I think right now, it’s more important for Morgan to have people she can trust,” said Frances. She pursed her lips, considering the question again, and nodded. “Yes, I believe you did the right thing. Morgan’s not going to like some of what we will have to tell her tomorrow. What you’ve done tonight might help her.”
“What is she not going to like?” Hattie asked.
Frances sighed. “It’s a bit late, do you mind waiting for tomorrow?”
Her apprentice shook her head and Frances smiled. “You did a very good job today. You almost did manage to calm Morgan down and you did a fantastic job supporting the attack.”
“Thank you, Frances,” said Hattie, managing a smile. “Hope you have a good night.”
“You too, Hattie,” said Frances, waving her student away.
----------------------------------------
Morgan couldn’t remember the last time she had actual good food. She couldn’t help but stare at the bowl of stewed beef and vegetables, and smell the heavenly spices that wafted up into the air.
“Morning Morgan,” said Timur, sitting down beside his niece.
The harpy-troll started but managed to smile. “Hey.” She narrowed her eyes as Frances sat down across from Timur.
“Good morning, Morgan.” The Stormcaller sipped from a cup of tea. “When would you like to learn about what we discussed last night?”
The harpy-troll straightened. So the mage did suspect that Morgan had been trying to eavesdrop. “How about now?” she asked.
She didn’t expect Frances to nod. “Alright, where would you like to start?”
Timur blinked. “Is this the best topic over breakfast, Frances?”
“No, but all of this is never going to be a topic we can talk easily about.” Frances pursed her lips. “If you’d like us to stop, Morgan, you just have to tell us.”
The harpy-troll frowned. “Are you really going to tell me everything?”
Frances put her cup down and laced her fingers together. “No. We’re not going to tell you everything. We are keeping one rather important piece of information secret from you.”
Morgan narrowed her eyes. “Why? I thought you said you wanted to be honest with me?”
“I do want to be honest with you. That’s why I’m telling you that I’m keeping a secret from you.”
“It isn’t just Frances who agreed to this, Morgan.” Timur smiled sadly at his niece. “I thought that we should say even less to you, but Frances convinced me that it was important for you to know the truth, or as much as we could tell it.”
“But—what, why wouldn’t you want to tell me—” Morgan’s voice trailed off, her thoughts flying back to when she’d nearly killed her uncle. She froze. Did they know? Had she already given up her secret? “Uncle, are you afraid I might, um, react badly?”
Frances and Timur exchanged a look. Morgan wasn’t sure what it meant. It seemed a lot passed in that instant before the Stormcaller said, “Morgan, you’re not going to like any of what we’re going to tell you. I wouldn’t be surprised if you lash out, or if your magic flares up. The reason why we aren’t telling you that last big secret is because we think that of all the things you don’t know, that will hurt you the most.”
“And that’s the last thing we want to do to you, especially after you’ve been freed so recently,” said Timur.
Confusion reigned in Morgan’s head for a moment. They didn’t want to hurt her? Why would anybody care?
Uncle Timur would never want to hurt us.
Then explain the Stormcaller.
You don’t know. You’re just a Monster after all. After all, you’re just sitting here, staring.
“Oh. Um, I see.” Morgan shoved a spoonful of stew into her mouth. It was still hot and it was absolutely delicious. She couldn’t help but continue to spoon chunks of beef and vegetables into her mouth as quickly as she could.
Timur chuckled. “Any other questions?”
“Mm hmm. Where are we going and um, what happens to me now?” Morgan asked this with her mouth still filled with food, but Timur and Frances seemed to understand.
“We’re returning to Athelda-Aoun. As for you, you’re going to be staying with your uncle and I,” said Frances.
Morgan forced down her food. “Wait, why you?”
“Because Frances lives with me, Morgan,” said Timur. “And she’s going to become your teacher.”
“What? Why her?” Morgan hissed, glaring at Frances.
Frances looked back at her, her amber eyes unflinchingly calm. She didn’t smile, but neither did she frown or show any hint of anger.
If anything it seemed as if Frances was looking through Morgan.
“Morgan, I know you are having some trouble controlling your magic.” Morgan’s breath caught in her throat. In that split second her world started to crumble.
“That is not your fault.”
Everything suddenly focused and Morgan blinked. Frances was staring at her intently. Her intense expression wasn’t one that the harpy-troll recognized, but it wasn’t anger or disgust. It was something else.
“Do you understand, Morgan? You should not be blaming yourself for being unable to control your magic right now. The experiments that Earl Darius’s mages were conducting on you were to amplify your magic core. They succeeded but that has done nothing to actually help you control your magic. I suspect that they actually have tried to weaken your control over your own magic.”
Morgan blinked. Was Frances concerned for her? Worried for her? Why… why was she worried for her?
She forced that thought out of her mind and asked, “Wait, they did?”
“Yes. Did you ever find out why they were experimenting on you?”
Morgan almost nodded, but after a moment, she shook her head. As much as she didn’t want to look like she knew nothing in front of the Stormcaller, she wanted to know more about what her kidnappers actually did to her.
“What do you know about living mana batteries?” Frances asked.
“They mentioned that. Something about a weapon that they could use to amplify the magic of their mages,” said Morgan, thinking back to the conversations she’d overheard.
“In a sense. A living mana battery is essentially a mage, forced to provide magical power to another for spells. Instead of using a gemstone or card to store magic, you’d create essentially a living mana source that you can control entirely. They wanted to turn you into one and to do this, in their most recent operation, they inserted a gem to try to tie your magic more closely to your emotions. They did this so that when it came to start trying to enchant your mind, and take control of your magic from you, they could manipulate your emotions to control your magic.” Frances smiled. “Thankfully, we rescued you before they could go further.”
Morgan swallowed. She suddenly realised why her uncle didn’t want her to know this.
They did this to her. The humans who experimented on her. All of those operations were to turn her into something that wasn’t an Alavari anymore, wasn’t even living.
A weapon.
At the same time, with the numbing horror and dismay, Morgan felt something else. It wasn’t happiness. It felt like when she’d first been released from her magic; a sense of freedom.
She knew why they’d done that to her and that they’d been stopped. For some reason, that was enough to keep her calm, in spite of the cold horror crawling up her skin.
“Can you take the stones out of me?” Morgan asked.
Frances sighed. “I don’t think we can take most of them out. The most recent one is possible, it hasn’t been integrated into your magic, but I need to talk to some mages more experienced in magical operations to be sure. Though…” Frances arched an eyebrow. “I’m surprised you want to go through another operation so quickly.”
Morgan flinched. There it was again. Frances somehow figured out what she was afraid of, before she even knew she was afraid of it. How in the world did this tiny woman seem to do this?
“Um, yeah.” Morgan took a breath and more pieces of the puzzle started to fall into place. “So…because you can’t operate and because of my magic, you need to be my teacher.”
“For a time, until we can either figure out a way to operate on that most recent stone, or help you achieve full control over your magic.” Frances glanced at Timur. “That and your uncle and I believe that it would be best for you to stay close to him as he’s your closest family member. Queen Titania was an option but well—”
“Your aunt Titania’s fighting a war against your grandfather Thorgoth and she’s incredibly busy and in a lot of danger,” said Timur.
“But why did you and aunt Titania go against grandfather?” Morgan asked.
Timur and Frances exchanged a knowing glance.
“That is a long story, so don’t forget to keep eating your breakfast,” said Frances. A faraway look spread across the mage’s face. “I suppose we should start with when I first met your uncle.”
Morgan rolled her eyes. How long could this story be?
And did her uncle have to look at the Stormcaller with such a wide-eyed and sappy expression?