The moment Timur entered her office, Frances sprang to her feet and ran up to him, only to stop short.
“Timur, I—”
The trogre’s arms wrapped around her for a brief moment, before he let go.
“I heard a little from Olgakaren and Epomonia. She knocked down Tavara?”
Frances bowed her head. “Yes, but I shouldn’t have been so harsh.”
Hattie, from where she sat, curled up on the office’s bed. “No. It was my fault. If I stood up to Sighla earlier—”
“Hattie, Frances, stop that line of thinking at once.”
The two turned to Edana and where she sat on a wooden chair, her eyes closed in thought. “You couldn’t have known she’d run away, Frances. You’re Morgan’s teacher, not her mind reader. And as for you, Hattie, you had no idea Morgan would intervene. You didn’t invite her to attack Tavara.”
Hattie swallowed, and nodded, whilst Frances sat down burying her face in her hands. “I know. It’s just…not only is she gone, she’s taken Ivy’s Sting.”
“Wait, Morgan did what?” Timur stammered.
“Ivy and I were having some alone time. You know we’re so close, it’s nice to have our minds to ourselves once in a while. That and Silver Star was recently repaired so it wanted to be tested a little,” said Frances, showing Timur the named staff.
“But why did Morgan take Ivy’s Sting?” Timur asked.
Because she thought your wand would give her solace.
It took a moment, but everybody’s heads turned to the white wand lying on Frances’s desk.
“Why…why would she think that—” Frances froze. “Oh no.”
Timur groaned. “When we were trying to calm her down after picking up Lightbreaker. Ivy managed to calm Morgan down by communicating with her.”
Edana frowned. “But she left Lightbreaker here?”
My wielder thought that she was not worthy of me and that you deserved a more powerful wand. Obviously, she didn’t know about Ivy’s Sting true identity.
“True identity?” Hattie asked.
Frances, Timur and Edana exchanged a glance, before the Stormcaller nodded and met the eyes of her first apprentice.
“Hattie, I know you’ve always suspected Ivy’s Sting isn’t quite the wand she makes herself to be. You’re right. Ivy’s Sting is Spellbinder.”
The half-troll straightened, her dark-blue eyes wide. “S—Sp—Spellbinder? That Spellbinder? But…what…how…” Hattie slumped onto the bed, before shaking her head and abruptly sitting up straight.
“Well, she took it better than you did, mom,” said Frances with a sigh.
Edana chuckled wryly as Hattie stammered “But that means—”
“Yes, Morgan has the most powerful wand on the continent and she has no idea.” Frances pinched the bridge of her nose. “We have every available harpy searching for her, but while we can confirm nobody flew through the Great Crevasse, or through the different gates, we don’t know where she is.”
“She hasn’t tried to run away?” Timur asked.
“That’s what I thought she’d do, especially after she took Ivy’s Sting, but nobody’s seen her,” said Frances.
“And Morgan isn’t exactly subtle,” said Timur. He pursed his lips. “She might be hiding then. Whenever she was sulking, or angry, Morgan would hide. Usually in a high place.”
“Then let’s dispatch what flyers we have to search there,” said Edana, rising to her feet. “I’ll reinforce the crevasse’s detection spells.”
“I can—”
Her mother put a gentle, but firm hand on her shoulder. “Frances, Timur, out of everyone here, you both understand Morgan the most. You need to think about where she is and where she might go to feel safe.”
“But—”
“Frances, you made a mistake, but that doesn’t mean you will continue to do so. I know you can help Morgan and I believe you are the best person to help her, and not just because you were abused.” At Frances’s wide-eyed look, Edana smiled. “Dear, you have to believe in yourself and what you’ve done for others, including me.”
Frances nodded slowly, exhaling slowly. “But what if I’m wrong?”
“Would you try to fix the mistake you made?” Edana asked, clasping her daughter’s shoulder.
“Of course!” Frances stammered.
“Then you have nothing to worry about,” said Edana. She gave Frances a quick squeeze before running out.
Closing her eyes, Frances nodded. “Right, Timur, what did Morgan usually do when she needed to be safe and be comforted?”
Timur, who was pacing back and forth across the office, didn’t stop. If anything he seemed to grimace deeper.
“She usually tried to find me. Sometimes she’d write a letter to me to get her feelings out and go for a flight,” said Timur. He shook his head. “I don’t think she did that, though. If she did…she’d be trying to look for me. And I…I don’t know why she hasn’t.”
“She’s scared.”
Frances and Timur’s eyes turned to Hattie, who was wringing her hands, her eyes focused on the carpet.
“I can’t…I can’t tell you much. Morgan told me not to tell anybody, but she’s scared. That’s…that’s probably why she isn’t coming back.”
“Hattie you need to—”
“No, Timur,” said Frances. Quietly she took Timur’s hand. “Morgan’s lost in Athelda-Aoun. She’s safe for the moment. If Morgan told Hattie what she said in private, we can’t interfere with that. It’s not fair to Hattie, or to Morgan.”
“But…” Timur groaned and spun on his heels, not letting go of Frances’s hands, but very deliberately not facing Hattie.
“But what, Mataia?”
“What could she be scared of? She’s safe here, far away from the humans who hurt her and yes, she’s worried about humans, but she’s gotten a lot more comfortable with you,” said Timur. The prince’s tail, still half-limp flicked side to side as he crossed his arms. “There’s nothing to be scared of here, and…not enough that she’d just run away. I just…I don’t understand.”
Frances pulled Timur into her embrace, and as she expected, he buried his face into her shoulder.
“I just got her back, Frances and yet she seems even farther away than when we were looking for her. I…It’s like I don’t know her any more.”
“She’s still, Morgan, Timur,” Frances stammered.
“Yes, and I know that and I see that, but she’s so different it’s like she’s become a stranger to me.” Timur sighed. “I mean, I expected her to grow up, but not like this.”
“She was in captivity for a year, Timur. The abuse she endured, the abuse you and I endured, does things to us. We just don’t notice the change because well, we’ve had time and help.” Frances glanced at Hattie, who sat, an intrigued look on her face, pointed ears sharp. “And that extends to you, Hattie. You thought you were doing the right thing when you didn’t tell me about the bullies, didn’t you?”
Hattie nodded. “Yeah, so… Morgan is probably thinking she’s doing the right thing too?”
France nodded once, and abruptly frowned. There was something in her mind that just jumped at the idea that Morgan was doing what she thought was right. Letting go of Timur, Frances crossed her arms and sat back at her desk. She knew Timur wouldn’t mind, he could tell that she was deep in thought.
Morgan…thought she was doing the right thing when she attacked Tavara. As worrying to Frances that the harpy-troll had been so violent, she’d done so to protect Hattie.
“Get off her! You waste-of-space!”
Frances forced that memory out of her mind, her hands balling into tight fists. Ignore that. She had to ignore that. Morgan couldn’t have known her trigger word and she…she’d been trying to protect Hattie. That was why she’d sought Frances despite Hattie wanting to continue with the exercise.
She closed her eyes.
Protect…the right thing…Why would she think running away, and taking Ivy’s Sting was the right thing? What had Lightbreaker said? Morgan had thought Ivy’s Sting would give her solace. So then why—
“I didn’t know what else to do, Monster,” said Judith.
Frances’s eyes snapped wide open as she realized something. And just like that, part of the jigsaw that was Morgan’s motives fell into place. Along with that revelation, Frances suddenly stood and grabbed Silver Star and Lightbreaker.
“Frances, where is she? Did you figure it out?”
“I’m not sure, but I think she’s at our house. Go over there, I’m going first.” Frances raised both wands, closed her eyes and focused on her living room.
The air around her pulsed and like she had when she’d teleported, she heard a thunderclap ringing in her ears. Eyes flying open, Frances whirled around and ran to the door. It was closed, but a pair of muddy boots were at the front door.
“Oh thank the Gods.” Frances used Silver Star to seal the house’s door and windows with magic, before turning on her heels. Taking a deep breath, she pursed her lips. “Right, she had to have heard that. Let’s…let’s not screw this up a second time, Frances.”
----------------------------------------
Her uncle and his…well, her soon-to-be teacher’s pantry was very well-stocked, and quite chilly. Morgan shivered as she perused the shelves, stuffing whatever she could into her rucksack.
Well, it was a rucksack that she was going to borrow forever. In spite of her title, she didn’t have anything to her name.
Shaking her head, Morgan focused on the food before her. The wooden shelves were stacked with pastries, cheese, fruit, the odd Dale-brick, salted pork, herbs and spices, and hard tack biscuits.
Experimentally Morgan took a biscuit and gave it a bite. She wasn’t sure what Frances had put in it but the biscuit was surprisingly tasty compared to the ones she’d had while in captivity. It was far harder than those ones, though.
Before she really thought about it, the harpy-troll had finished the biscuit. She paused before sighing and grabbing another. Eating made her feel better, even if it didn’t fill the coldness in her heart.
Morgan, please reconsider. You aren’t helping anybody by running away.
Morgan froze and shook her head. “Ivy…if I don’t leave, I’m going to hurt someone.”
Then stay. Where Frances, Timur and everybody can help you.
“Maybe, but unlike you, they can get hurt.” Morgan thrust the wand deeper into her school’s shoulder-bag and closed it. This was hard enough already, leaving and running away from everybody and her uncle.
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Morgan stopped short, tears welling up in her eyes. She wouldn’t even be able to say goodbye to him.
A thunderous boom shook the shelves, and Morgan started.
“How—shit, shit!” She spotted a large barrel. It smelled something fierce, but Morgan ducked behind it, pushing herself up against it like her life depended on it.
The pantry door swung open. The shadow of a short woman was silhouetted by the light. Morgan curled her slippered feet up, wrapping her arms around them.
Only then did she realise she’d left her boots at the front of the doorway.
“Oh shit,” she whispered.
“Morgan, it’s me. I know you’re here.” Frances paused, and took a deep breath. “Would you like me to join you? It’s alright if you don’t, just tell me if you’re alright.”
Clamping her hands over her mouth, Morgan shut her eyes. This couldn’t be happening. She was supposed to leave. She made sure someone had seen her flying. The house was supposed to be the last place anybody would think to look.
“Morgan? Ivy?”
We’re here, Frances, and she’s fine.
Morgan froze, her eyes watching the shadow on the ground, but it didn’t move. At least, it didn’t move any closer. She could see from how Frances’s shadow bent that the woman was clearly relieved.
“That’s good. Morgan, Tavara’s going to make a full recovery. You don’t have to worry about her. And…you don’t have to worry about me. Hattie told me everything.”
“She what?” Morgan shrieked.
“She didn’t tell me your secret. She only told me that you were scared, which I think anybody could have figured out. She also told me about how you were trying to protect her from the bullies, and from hurting herself during the course.” Frances’s shadow shortened. She was sitting down on the steps into the pantry. “Morgan…I’m sorry. I was wrong. You may have been a bit aggressive, but you were right to defend Hattie.”
Morgan bit her lip. “I nearly killed her!”
Frances swallowed. “Maybe, but she’s not dead and you know what you did wrong. You don’t have to run away from that.”
“But what if I hurt you? Hurt uncle Timur? Hurt all those kids who don’t know that—that—” Morgan buried her face in her hands. The darkness closed in on her. She couldn’t run. She couldn’t hide and she had never, even when in that horrible castle, felt so much pain. It clenched around her heart and chest like it was trying to rip it out.
“Just let me go! You…you filthy human! Just let me go, you waste-of-space! Come on! You don’t really care about me! You’re just doing it for my uncle! You slut!”
There was a sharp hiss of breath and Morgan grinned, hating herself, and yet glad that she’d gotten under Frances’s skin. Maybe she’d slip up, let her go, do something stupid and then she could escape.
“Morgan—”
“You did something to my uncle Timur didn’t you! He wouldn’t just fall in love with a disgusting human!” Morgan screamed.
“Morgan I know—”
“Come on! Just do it! Throw me out! Let me go and you can get on with your merry lives! Kick out the monster that ruined your perfect home! The monster that nearly killed a child!”
“Morgan!” Frances’s tone was firmer now, harder. There was an odd note to it, but Morgan could tell she was succeeding. She pulled Ivy’s Sting from her bag. She just needed to push Frances’s buttons just a little further.
“I killed a guard and I meant to do it! Bet you didn’t know that, Stormcaller! I slammed her into the wall, stabbed her with bars from my cell.” Cackling, Morgan reached into herself, remembering Agatha’s stunned look, that burning guilt driving the harpy-troll to raise Ivy’s Sting. “I’m going to do that to you and everybody you love so come on! Fight me!”
Morgan stood up whipped Ivy’s Sting up, and froze—
Frances was just sitting on the pantry steps, her eyes moist. She was shaking, her arms crossed, but her staff and Lightbreaker both lay beside her.
“Morgan—”
“Stay back! I’ll…I’ll—”
“Kill me? I don’t think—no, I know you don’t want to.” Frances continued to sit, even as Morgan stormed toward her.
“I’ll do it! I’ll—”
“I won’t let you leave, Morgan, but I know you don’t want to hurt me to do it,” said Frances. She smiled sadly. “Morgan, do you think of yourself as a danger to others?”
Morgan froze, her numb fingers struggling to hold onto Ivy’s Sting.
“Well yeah! And I’m going to rip your head off if you don’t get out of my way!”
Frances took a deep breath. She seemed to sit, holding her tongue, deep in contemplation, even as Morgan pointed her wand at her.
Then Frances looked up at Morgan, her amber eyes bright.
“Morgan, I know you don’t want to do that. You want to protect people and Alavari. That’s why you wanted to run away isn’t it? And why you stole Ivy’s Sting. You think we need to be protected from you.”
“No—No! That’s—I mean, yeah! And what about it? I’m dangerous!”
Frances sighed. “Maybe, but I’m dangerous too. I’m the Stormcaller, the Dragonslayer, the massacrer of Alavari, the Death that Rains from Above, who was far, far too harsh to a fourteen-year-old girl who’d just helped to save her friend and made her think she had to run away to protect the people around her.” Frances rested her arms on her legs. “Am I not dangerous too?”
“That…” Morgan spluttered. “Shut up! Shut up and just get out of my way! It’s for your own fucking good!”
“Why are you dangerous, Morgan, more dangerous than me?” Frances asked in a quiet voice.
Morgan hated that quiet voice. She didn’t want to leave already, and now Frances wouldn’t move, and she wasn’t afraid. She was just sitting there.
“Because…because…” Morgan lunged at Frances, hoping to scare the woman, she swished her wand as violently as she could.
Frances did raise her arm instinctively, but as Morgan flung her wings open, hoping to soar over the human, Frances simply stood up.
“Because what, Morgan?”
Morgan, flapping her wings, tried to go over Frances’s head, but she backed up until she stood in the pantry doorway. As short as she was, there was no way Morgan could get over her teacher.
It was futile. She couldn’t…there was no escape. Morgan floated back onto the ground, despair clutching her heart.
“You don’t understand! I know what I am! I know what they made me into! You have to let me go, or else somebody’s going to get hurt! I’ve already hurt so many people.”
Frances seemed to stiffen, before she said, in a calm, clear voice the last words Morgan expected to hear.
“Morgan, you’re not a monster, or a weapon. I know you think you are one of those things, but you aren’t.”
The harpy-troll froze. “Did…did Hattie—”
“No. I figured it out. Because…because I know you’re actually a good girl, Morgan.” Frances reached out her arm, but when Morgan stepped back, she lowered it. “Morgan, you keep saying you have to leave, and you kept trying to hurt me with words. You keep saying that you’re dangerous, and there was that phrase Judith used before. Monster. They called you that, right? It’s not what you are.”
“But I am a monster! You know what I can do! I just told you I killed someone!” Morgan wailed.
Frances shook her head. “That doesn’t change the fact that you keep trying to protect people. Does a monster do that? And as for that guard…I remember we found her and her gun. She was the one who shot you, wasn’t she?”
Morgan spluttered, wiping her eyes. She was so confused. Frances was just…taking apart all her reasoning, her desires and just…opening her up like some puzzle. Nothing was making sense. She couldn’t be right, but why did she want to believe her?
“That…that doesn’t matter! I am a monster! They turned me into a monster and there’s no fixing that!”
Frances was very, very quiet, and for a moment, Morgan thought that she’d stumped the mage.
Then Frances wiped her eyes and crossed her arms.
“What those guards did to you is not permanent. You are hurt, and you’ve been changed, but you have not been turned into a monster, or a weapon.”
“How could you know?” Morgan hissed.
“I know, because my parents did their best to turn me into a waste-of space.” Frances shivered. “For as long as I can remember, my mother and my step-father hit me, beat me, fed me with scraps. Dan…he liked to hit me when he was drunk, with a belt, or just kicking me. Mom was more predictable, but it always hurt more. She beat my back with a cane. She even burned me with an iron once. All the while they kept telling me how useless I was and that I was a worthless, disgusting piece of shit; a waste-of-space. How I didn’t deserve to live, and only deserved their punishment because…I well,I thought I was a waste-of-space. I kept thinking that for the longest time until I came to Durannon when I was thirteen and met Edana.”
Morgan stared at Frances. “But…wait…no that’s…”
I was thirteen once too.
“But I…” Morgan froze. “I was using your trigger word. I was calling you a…”
“Yes and it does hurt, but not nearly as much as it did. Don’t you see, Morgan?” Frances reached out and this time, Morgan didn’t resist as the short woman took her hand. “You and I…we can heal, we can be happy. We can make friends, and even help others who were hurt like us.”
“Then that means…that means…”
“You’re not a monster, Morgan,” Frances smiled as tears flowed down the harpy-troll’s eyes. “I’m sorry I made you feel like you were one, even for a moment.”
Morgan dropped Ivy’s Sting, Frances just managing to catch it before her wand hit the ground. Sobbing, she sat down, curling her knees up.
Frances slowly sat down across from her student. “Morgan?”
“Uncle Timur’s going to be so mad at me.”
“He isn’t. He’s worried sick for you.”
“I know! Why do you…why do you always seem to just know?” Morgan whined. “Why did he fall in love with you, a human of all people?”
Frances pursed her lips. “To be honest, sometimes I wonder why your uncle loves me. I know why, or at least I think I do, but I still don’t always think well of myself.”
Morgan peeked out from behind her knees. “Because of what happened?”
Frances nodded. “And…about how I seem to understand you. I just make guesses and I was wrong before, about when you attacked Tavara. I’m not a mind-reader. I just try my best.”
Morgan swallowed. “You’re not going to take my uncle away from me, are you?”
“I won’t ever take your uncle away from you. I promise that. He’ll still be your uncle and he has more than enough love for both of us,” said Frances. She smiled, “When we finally found you, he was so glad that you were alive he wouldn’t stop talking about how he’d spoil you rotten. He’s never going to let you go, I hope you realise that.”
“I know. I just… I don’t know how to trust humans, trust anybody,” Morgan whimpered. After all, how could she trust them when she could kill them? When she could hurt them so easily?
Frances sighed and closed her eyes. “I understand that. Now I can’t just leave your uncle. I love him, I care for him and he loves me. I invite you to watch and observe us for as long as you want, and I hope one day you can understand that we do love each other. What I can do is to look for a new magic teacher for you.”
Morgan pulled her head up, her eyes staring at Frances. “What?”
Frances didn’t quite expect that reaction from Morgan, and she continued, more slowly. “Since you don’t like me, or trust me, I think it would be better for both of us if we don’t have so much contact. I’m happy that you’ve put up with me for so long, and I had hoped you would change your mind, but you don’t want me to be your teacher. I do like having you as my student, but I do care about you and want the best for you.”
“Wait! No I like you—” Morgan clamped her hands around her mouth, much to Frances’s surprise.
Then Frances registered her student’s words and felt her head spin.
“You don’t want me to be your teacher because I’m a human, right?”
“I…I don’t know.” Morgan averted her gaze. “You’re not like the other humans. You…you’re kinda scary.” The harpy-troll wiped her eyes as she studied Frances’s wide-eyed face. She wasn’t sure when, but at some point, it’d become a face she wasn’t so scared of anymore. “But it’s nice that you get why I feel. And I…I like learning magic from you.”
Frances’s head was spinning as she stared at her student. This was not what she expected at all. Morgan had obeyed and listened to her, but she’d always thought that was out of grudging respect, not a willingness to learn.
“Oh. That makes me quite happy. Would you still like a different teacher then?” Frances asked.
“No. I… I…” Morgan seemed to deflate, her wings falling by her side. “I like you. I just… but you’re a human and like… humans are mean and cruel and you can’t trust them, but… I…”
The harpy-orc sniffled and turned away. Yet, even as she did so, the pieces finally snapped together in Frances’s head.
“You feel safe with me, don’t you?” Frances asked, unable to hide, unwilling to suppress the relief in her voice.
There was another sniffle at that. “You’re being scary again.”
Frances winced. “I’m sorry.”
“Why are you always apologising anyway? You’re right. I like you, a fucking human,” Morgan whined.
“And you don’t know why you feel that way, right? Because it shouldn’t be happening. Not with what you’ve seen of other humans,” said Frances, feeling a distinct sense of deja vu. It was as if she was talking to a twisted reflection of herself from so long ago.
Morgan’s heart skipped a beat. “How…how in Galena’s name do you always just get that? It should be confusing and stupid and weird and nobody ever gets what I feel, but you just do.”
“Because I’ve felt those feelings too, Morgan. It’s just that instead of humans I felt that about me.” Frances wiped her eyes and steeled herself. Thi was going to hurt. “When I used to think that I was a waste-of-space. I wondered why my mother, Edana, treated me so nicely. I wondered why she kept telling me I deserved love and care when I thought I deserved what my birth parents gave me. I thought there was something wrong with me that I couldn’t act like a normal person. That I was a weird freak that everybody would find out about and that I was just hiding how truly abnormal I was.”
Frances felt her voice choke and forced herself to take a deep breath and meet Morgan’s wide-eyed gaze. “What you and I have gone through, no little girl should have. It’s cruel, it’s terrible, it hurts and even when we think it’s all over it’ll confuse and frustrate us. It’s like nobody understands how we feel. Except that’s fine. That’s normal, especially with what happened to us.”
“It is?” Morgan whispered.
Frances nodded. “It is. Thinking like this…that all humans are mean, that we’re either freaks or monsters, that I deserved my parents’ abuse…that kept us safe at the time. Those horrible thoughts also kept us alive, protected us from the pain, helped us to survive and cope with our situation. But things change, and we can’t keep thinking like that. Not if we want to be happy. You want to be happy, right? You want to learn magic with me, and enjoy the time we have together, right?”
“Yes, I do, b-but aren’t you angry I stole your Named Wand?” Morgan spluttered, tears running down her cheeks.
“I’m hurt, but I’m not angry. I wish you hadn’t done that, but…I think I understand why. You thought Ivy’s Sting could protect people from you, right?” Frances asked.
“Yeah. And… and…” Morgan felt her wings droop and she averted her gaze. “I thought you’d…you’d throw me out, hurt me because of what I am, only, you’re right.” The harpy-troll suddenly stiffened and clamped her hands over her mouth. “Oh Galena. What have I done?”
Frances raised her hands. “Morgan? It’s alright.”
Morgan shook her head. The harpy-troll was in bawling, tears streaming down her face. “But it’s not! I just messed everything up!”
Frances knew exactly where that line of thought went and the words that came to her were those that her mother had told her long ago.
“I forgive you.”
Morgan stopped, her golden eyes staring again. “What?”
“I forgive you for hurting me, for being difficult, for stealing Ivy’s Sting,” said Frances, she shuffled forward, closer to Morgan, palms open and facing up.
“Wait, just like that? But why? I’ve been nothing but difficult and hurtful and a pain in the beak for you,” Morgan whispered.
Frances winced at the bitterness in that child’s voice, and how much it once resembled her own. “Because… because that’s what my mom, my real mom, Edana, would say. Because that’s what I desperately wanted to hear. Because I care for Timur, and I care for you, even if you can be difficult and hurtful. Because… it’s the right and kind thing to do.”
On her knees, Frances raised her arms in an inviting gesture and Morgan shuffled forward and threw herself at her teacher.
It felt to Frances like being hit by the fluffiest, warmest freight train. She nearly fell over, but kept her balance as her student slammed into her, sobbing uncontrollably.
“I’m sorry. I’ll be good! I’m sorry. I just…I’m still a monster—still think I’m a monster and I…I don’t know what’s happening to me!”
“I know, Morgan, I know, and I’ll do my best to help you, okay?” Frances said, rocking the sobbing girl side to side, trying her best to hold back her own tears. “You won’t be alone. I promise.”