My plan had a fatal flaw. Something that all my life experience couldn’t have prepared me for—could have prepared none of us for: waiting busy tables. Ssiina and me, specifically, as Kyrae’s sharp mind went to work putting everything together as the go-between of cook and waitstaff.

Ynna only had a few things she made, but remembering them all, and then remembering how much someone had, and who had what, and then getting called over and talked to or yelled at by other customers…

I was in over my head.

The first few were easy enough, fun even, wearing a smile for Founding Day and even chatting a little about the decorations around the shop. Quickly, however, the crowd had grown. At least her shop’s not completely starved for business. Other places I could see were even worse than ours, but the purple rice had drawn eyes and those eyes were hungry.

“Miss, did you forget me?”

I turned at the sound of the voice. An elf woman—not with anyone that I could recall. Had I missed her?

Dimly, I remembered taking her order, but I couldn’t remember what that order actually was. So, I froze. “Uhh…”

“Just a bowl of the purple rice!” she repeated, clearly frustrated.

“Oh, uh, right away!” Purple rice. Normal bowl. Normal bowl; purple rice.

I slithered quickly to where Kyrae was putting orders together, my eyes on a big pile of the rice and a stack of clay bowls.

“Normal bowl, Founding Day rice.”

Kyrae nodded, hands moving quickly.

“And…”

Behind me, I heard Ssiina taking other orders, and I could hear Ynna working in the kitchen.

My brow furrowed, seemingly of its own accord. “And…”

One bowl of purple rice, and…

I couldn’t remember anything else. All the orders and requests and people’s faces and where they were coiling or sitting. Staring hard at the clay bowls, I imagined them all falling down to the floor, smashing to shards as my mind froze like the glacier above the Greatriver’s headwaters.

“Issa?” Kyrae’s voice was muffled, as if underwater.

The broken shards I saw were picked up by pooling shadows, floating on darkness. I heard the wave coming, and ahead of time, the screams. Screams echoed, the same as that night many years ago where a young, derelict Issa lost control of the curse afflicting her and tore apart the shop of the only woman she’d ever known to show her kindness.

I shivered against the sudden cold, hallucinating someone saying my name again. Inky and frigid, the shadows started to pool out of corners and pull off walls. Neck stiff, I struggled to turn and watch the coming tide that would pull me under.

As it approached, I shook and spun, and constricted by cloying warmth that spread up toward my head and down toward my tail. Seizing, shaking, I tried to escape it, but it was too fast and then—

And then the room came back into focus. The shadows retreated, and the sounds of conversation filtered in. Warmth and smooth skin wrapped both of my hands, familiar.

Kyrae. Ssiina.

“Issa?” Kyrae asked again, voice soft and shaking.

“I’m… I forgot all the orders. I’m sorry, I—”

“Don’t be,” Ssiina said quickly. “Kyrae, take a moment with Issa—I’ll cover the other orders and get things moving again.” She retreated quickly, polished scales sliding easily across well-worn stone.

“Look at me.” Kyrae reached up and pulled my head down, forest green eyes meeting my own. “You’re okay. Ssiina and I are here for you, and you’ve got control.”

“I’ve… got control.”

Lessons in Phaeliisthia’s moonflower grotto. Wresting control from an assassin mid-fall. Spying on Ussen Anqi Ziilant from across an estate. Pulling shadows to me, ready to protect my family from Hssen Zaiia Ssyri’jiilits.

Deep breath in; deep breath out.

“Thanks, Kyrae.”

She smiled.

I raised my head… and locked eyes with Ynna, who had just left the kitchen. The old lania’el’s dark brown eyes went wide.

***

The girls who had answered Ynna’s need for workers seemed almost Jaezotl-sent. Founding Day was close at hand, and she’d struggled to find help after that incident with the young vagrant she’d hired years ago.

Some even avoided her shop altogether, calling it cursed. The scars and reminders, the overgrown garden, all made Ynna’s heart ache. She’d been terrified of whatever blasphemous power had afflicted that child, Issa. The child’s power had very nearly killed her, but her heart had always ached for leaving that girl on the temple’s steps.

For returning days later when guilt had overtaken fear to find out the girl had never visited. For searching alleys and streets the next few days before she’d retreated into her guilt, assuming the worst.

Today, however, she’d been reminded of that girl, in triplicate. Two lamia this time—ke’lania and much more well-fed than the gaunt waif—and one elf. Older: young adults rather than kids.

However, they had the same sort of exuberance, and, like that child, lacked the innocence they should have possessed. More than that, the shy lamia who was the bigger of the two—and almost startlingly large for her age—reminded her painfully of Issa from the few glimpses she’d stolen.

Now, however, after a commotion from outside the kitchen had drawn her away, she stared into familiar emerald eyes, a chillingly-identical blackness draining from them. The contours of her face, once a girl and now a woman. Once thin and now with skin and scale of radiant health.

Once timid and now showing growing confidence and maturity.

“Issa, child.” Her words were soft, but they were not unsure. They were not a question.

Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

Although Issa was clearly no lania’el as she had assumed, she was doubtless who stood before her. Not dead, but grown. Not broken down and buried by the city, but someone surviving amidst its thrumming throng, or perhaps even rising to the top.

She continued, staring at Issa’s own widening, brightening eyes, “I’m sorry.”

***

She’s sorry.

I blinked, but when my eyelids lifted, Ynna’s stare remained.

She’s?

Sorry!?

She’d delivered me to help. She’d not called me a monster or a slithering blasphemy. I’d nearly taken everything from her—damage that years of time hadn’t healed.

And she! Was sorry!?

No. No way. Nuh uh.

My head shook vigorously, breaking our stare, and I rushed forward, pulling Ynna into a hug. When did she get so small?

“No,” I said, voice cracking. “I’m sorry. It was all my fault. You helped me. Gave me more than a job—you gave me hope.”

Alongside me, Kyrae ran a hand down my arm, fingertips touching mine behind my old employer. Ssiina called orders from somewhere, and soon Kyrae clacked bowls and scooped rice with soft, homely sounds.

“What’s… you look like you’ve been well, Issa.” Ynna looked like she’d more to say.

I nodded. “I have, yes.”

Ynna glanced at the crowd, and at the heads turned our way. “Would you mind helping in the kitchen a bit? Your friend seems to have it covered out here.”

That got a small smile out of me, as I glanced at Ssiina frantically catching up to my mistake, laying a steaming bowl of rice in front of the woman I’d forgotten. “Sure.”

The old lania’el smiled sadly in return and led me back into the kitchen. After a few frantic moments, she gave me quick instructions on what to watch for and went back to doing most all the work. “You’ve been well then?”

“Yes, and you’ve asked that twice.”

“I suppose I have, haven’t I?” she chuckled. “I just… I worried so much that my mistakes had uprooted the last reed keeping the bank from collapse, so to speak. That I’d ruined a child’s—your—life.”

“I, well my curse, almost killed you and wrecked your shop. And I know there’s lingering pain there—I saw it in the overgrown garden, the missing sundial, the gouges in the walls, the missing customers… and in you working alone.”

Ynna half-chuckled, half-choked. “Yesss, I suppose. You’re a lot more observant now than you were, Issa.”

“I grew up.”

“Too fast,” she mumbled.

“Hss?”

“You were forced to grow up too fast, I think.”

I drew in a sharp breath, held a moment, then released it. “I was, yeah. All the same, I’ve wanted for years to apologize to you, Ynna.”

“No.” She shook her head.

“Yes.” I bowed low, a formal bow wholly inappropriate for a hssen to give a ssen’iir.

“You’ve learned manners, I see. Will you accept my own apology?” She mirrored my bow.

“Already have.” I helped her rise, and guided her spoon back into the cooking rice. “And you could say I had a good tutor.”

“You do certainly seem healthy! You know, you were so small I’d assumed you lania’el. I could even swear I remembered an errant fang of yours.”

My smile faltered. I’d been so happy to get closure, to see Ynna’s warm smile again. Hurt that we’d both harbored this resentment toward ourselves, but I’d felt like I was flying with Phaeliisthia above the clouds.

Now, a lump formed in my throat. The happy days working at Ynna’s shop were a life I’d never have, and I hated to admit it, I life I no longer yearned for.

How can I tell her this? How can I tell her what—who—I now am?

Easy, Issa. Just say it.

All this self-reflection wasn’t like me anyway.

“I am a kelaniel ra’zhii and my full name and title is Hssen Issa Ssyri’jiilits.” I smiled a lamian smile, showing off my gleaming fangs.

Ynna’s brow furrowed and she turned to face me fully. “You… you can’t be serious, Issa.”

I took her hand in mine. “I am.”

She shook her head. “I don’t know what this is, and you may be large for a lania’el, but it makes no sense how you could be hssen.”

“I thought the same you know!” My ears caught the sound of a commotion from outside.

Ynna noticed me glance at the door, and heard the sounds herself only moments later. “Oh for Hse’Aazh’s sake! Watch the rice a moment, please!”

I caught Dyni’s voice and my smile came back in full. “Sure thing, boss!”

The old lania’el snorted on her way out of the kitchen.

As best I could, I tended to the rice, listening to snippets of conversation from my sisters, our bodyguard, and our increasingly-bewildered temporary employer. Not long after she’d left, Ynna came back into the kitchen, her skin pale.

“Please forgive my impertinence, Hssen Issa!” She lowered herself to the ground, nose touching stone in an obeisance.

I set the spoon down carefully and slithered up to her, hauling her up gently by the shoulders. “Oh come on now! We’ve both accepted each other’s apologies! And right now you’re my boss again for the day, so you’ve got nothing to worry about.”

Ynna looked at me and blinked.

“They’re tryin’ real hard to make a hssen outta me, but I’m still me.” I dropped my voice back into its old accent, the sounds rusty and unfamiliar.

From the doorway, Dyni stuck her head inside, wearing a vicious grin. Over Ynna’s shoulder, I stuck my tongue all the way out at her, and my bodyguard snickered.

“Hmm?” Ynna said, still a little out of sorts.

“Oh, nothing. But you should probably get back to the rice. Wouldn’t want to burn it. I should go with my sister Ssiina and make sure all your patrons are taken care of.”

“Hssen Issa!”

“My sisters said the same, didn’t they?”

Silence.

“We just wanted to have a day out. Teach Ssiina what it’s like to be ssen’iir. And then the river of fate curved serendipitously.” I flicked my tongue at the last word. “Hsss. For all I try, Phaeliisthia’s stupid pedanticism keeps infesting me.”

“Who?”

“Don’t worry about it!” I slithered over and grabbed the spoon, handing it back to her. “There’s a good bit of tonight left, right?”

Without waiting for Ynna to retort, I slithered out of the kitchen and back toward the front. Kyrae’s job was mostly unimpeded, and she was snickering at a flustered Ssiina who was desperately trying to get a rather well-dressed lamian couple to let her take their order.

I slithered over, slapping her on the back. “Good luck, Sis!”

She hissed with faux indignance, then smiled. “Those two groups there just got in.”

“Gotcha!” I slithered over. “So, what’ll you have? No worries if you need some time.”

The people I was addressing were a lamian couple wearing very simple clothing. They looked at my sister, and then at me, the woman saying, “A-are you… we couldn’t possibly—”

“I recommend the Foundation Day rice, unless you’re looking for more meat, then we have a few other options, including river trout.” They didn’t look like they knew what to do, so I continued with a wink, “Just for tonight, think of me as no more than ssen’iir. The soul of Jii’Kalaga is in its people, not in the Emerald Palace or the Grand Temple, after all.”

A potentially contentious thing to say, but it calmed the pair, and they shared a glance. “W-well, if you’re certain, I think I want the trout and he’ll have the Foundation Day rice.”

I committed it to memory, the task suddenly a lot easier than it had been. “Certainly! That should be out shortly, a little longer for the—”

“ISSA!” a familiar voice boomed, and I froze.

Uh-oh.

I shared a look with Ssiina, and for a moment I considered bolting. But we’d already been caught, and I had to wonder if Dyni’d sold us out.

From around the corner, Tyaniis Ssyri’jiilits, my sire, slithered toward us at frightening speed. “Daughter mine, do you have any idea how worried I was? Now is not the time for you to be playing games and endangering yourself or your sisters!”

Somewhere within me, indignation blossomed into impossible courage. “Yes, Sire.” Before she could finish her curt nod, I continued, “But we are adults, are we not? The owner of this restaurant did me a great kindness in the past, and I saw fit to repay it. Plus, it is almost Founding Day, and celebrations are in full swing. Should we not share in this time of revelry with our subjects?”

Sire’s face stiffened, then flushed, and I worried she’d become apoplectic. Then she released a held breath almost visibly tinged with magic despite a lack of sigilcraft, closing her golden eyes. “You are… not wrong, Daughter mine. Perhaps I am keeping too tight a hand on your affairs.” her eyes snapped open. “In the future, you should not disappear without a trace however, nor should you continue Ssiina’s corruption of your most honorable bodyguard.”

“We did not think you to wish to wear ssen’iir clothing and wait tables.”

Tyaniis sneered, eyes glancing down at her lavish silken robes, green in the shade only ssyri’ssen and hssen were allowed to wear. Her chin rose. “You assume wrong, Daughter mine. Shopkeep!” Her voice carried easily.

Ynna peeked out again, visible barely as she slithered out of the kitchen across the seating area and inside room both. “Y-yes, Hssen Tyaniis?”

“May I join my daughters in aiding you this eve?”

“O-of course. I wouldn’t mean to presume—”

“Then do not.” Sire stared down her nose at me. “Which tables need tending?”

Gleefully, basking in my victory, I pointed at the table right next to us, where the other group Ssiina had directed me towards was sitting. The four friends, probably each about my age, looked up at Sire with full-moon eyes as the massive kelaniel descended on them.

I turned back to the shaking patrons whose orders I’d just taken with a grin so big it hurt my mouth. “One normal bowl of Founding Day rice, and one trout. Would you like anything else?”