Chapter Six
Brann held a talent for cheering Elise up. The only things that had managed that impressive feat in the past were Ratty, Isera, singing, and good food after a long day working. The drake now found himself a spot on that honored list, and he catapulted himself to the peak of it. He filled a void in her life she never managed before to give a name to.
The drake helped train her for about an hour as well, helping her to keep her mind off things by trying to punch him. Unfortunately, she did find herself rather distracted by his figure. So muscular. Such impressive technique and incredible speed. And those arms, earlier on, they'd been wrapped around her, comforting her from the world's evils.
Hard not to get attracted to that. She didn't want to scare him off, though. The last thing he needed was for the person he showed kindness to suddenly coming on to him. It would negate all his efforts, and throw them back to the beginning.
Elise doubted she could contain the embarrassment from her cheeks. At least she remained capable of making a good excuse for it, like not being used to kindness.
The day dragged on past these moments, however. She didn't stay with Brann long, wanting time to herself before the music lesson in the evening. Part of her wanted to just fall into a deep sleep and avoid the lesson. She still didn't know if Karris had been talked to by her father from the other day, or if the servant had been spared. She needed to find out the result, though.
No matter how bad the result might be.
Going into music lessons later on that afternoon, taking a break from Brann’s training, sent Elise straight into the line of fire of a furious and white-faced Karris.
Presumably her father has talked to her. At least, if the vicious, judgmental stares were anything to go by.
Jorus saw the animosity building up again between them and he stepped away from his piano, pissed off. Elise rarely saw him so agitated.
“Karris, child, if you are going to constantly glare at your fellow singer like this, you will never be able to improve your voice. The anger distorts your throat. You have blockage.”
“This little witch thinks she can say what she likes to my father!” Karris exploded, her yellow eyes swimming in hate. “She thinks she can talk to us like she’s an equal!”
Looked like Karris didn't want to take responsibility for what she had done. Elise expected nothing less.
“Still angry I told him about your poisoning attempt on me?” A faint smile played upon Elise's lips. Jorus’s gray eyebrows shot up. The grizzled instructor did not appear happy to catch this piece of news.
“Oh, dear skies,” he snapped, now stepping between them. “Okay, get it out. Whatever it is you must say. And don’t kill each other.”
“I didn’t do it! That wretched slave poisoned your food.”
“Which you told him to, knowing full well that he can’t disobey your orders. Did you really think it wouldn’t be that obvious, Karris? You hate me. You don’t hide it. You’re jealous. You’re always trying to interrupt me and ruin the beat of the song. It's not exactly a well-kept secret with the way you huff and puff about the place.”
“How dare you speak to me like that? I don’t care that father likes you so much, you’re a horrible creature and I’ll see to it that he understands that.”
“The only horrible creature here,” Elise iterated, “is you. You’re wasting your time with this anger. Instead of improving your singing, and working on whatever it is you want with your dad, you’re spending your time hating me. If I’m such a lowly human, then why not just waste no time on me at all? You make me important to you by obsessing over me like this.”
“I…!” Karris spluttered, even as Jorus hummed disapprovingly. He raised up one hand to halt the wyrm's tirade.
“She has a point, mistress. You are, quite simply, wasting all your energy on a human.” Elise noticed Jorus’s eyes twinkle at her.
Nice to see the drake was on her side.
Karris looked on the verge of storming out.
I have power with my song, right? Let’s test it. Trying not to think about how weird it was to just break out into song in the middle of a heated argument, Elise began singing, stringing words together, deciding to seek out the right emotion with the tune. What did she want? Despair? Pacification?
No. Guilt. She needed Karris to find guilt in that black little soul of hers. Guilt and shame. Perhaps it was odd, starting a tune like this, perhaps it would be too obvious. Singing to the songs Jorus wanted her to do leached out some of the passion, making it mechanical. None of Elise's heart and soul went into a tune that she didn't invent herself.
Karris needed to understand. She needed to see and stop being so damn resentful. But how did you change something like that? Certainly not by words alone.
When Elise saw Karris’s face redden and bitter tears slide out of her eyes, she wondered if the song was working. Like it did on Brann. Honestly, the fact that Karris hadn't launched herself at Elise's throat came as a pleasant surprise.
Jorus, however, stared at her sharply, placing a hand to his lips. As soon as Elise stopped, he said, “Dear child. What emotion you put into your voice! Why… I could feel shame. Ah…” He dabbed some sweat off his head. He also shot her some wary glances, as if he suspected something more than just a powerful song.
Am I treading on dangerous ground here?
Karris stood, shaking. Then she stepped past Jorus and yanked Elise’s arm, pinching hard. “How dare you… how… how dare you make me feel this…” The pinch became painful, then softer, and Karris blinked in confusion, staring at the injury she’d made on Elise’s arm, even as Elise backed off from her. “I… I’m sorry.”
Humiliation burned in Karris’s face. Other things lingered there as well. Fathomless emotions beyond the range Elise thought Karris capable of experiencing. Karris reached out another shaking hand to Elise, but Elise again avoided it. She wasn't sure if the wyrm was really trying anymore.
“Karris,” Elise said, her voice low, “it doesn’t have to be like this.”
The younger woman stood silent for a moment. Then she said, “I don’t know why I hate you so much. I just see you and I get, I get so mad. It just fogs over my brain, and I think that everything’s your fault. It’s you. If you weren’t here – if humans weren’t here…” Karris took a deep, shuddering breath, more tears squeezing out. “I don’t know. It’s always here. I see it now, it’s black.”
Elise sensed, in her own way, the fifteen-year-old was both trying to excuse her actions and apologize at the same time.
Better than before. She doubted a wyrm would ever admit something like this by themselves. So it must be to do with her voice.
Which meant...
“I have a song for you, Karris,” Elise said. “I’ve been thinking of the words, thinking about how to make sense of you.” Now that Elise thought about it, she trembled slightly, wondering if she really had such magic in her voice. If she could change people. Despite all the evidence pointing her towards it, despite confirmation from Brann and even herself, a part of Elise still doubted, somehow. Plus, Karris hadn’t reacted much before. But then again, in all the times Elise had sung, she never targeted someone specifically. She didn't sing for a person. She sang for a room, and tailored a song to suit everyone who listened. But everyone reacted in their own way, based on their life experiences.
And right now, Elise had words for Karris. Words mulling and shaping in the back of her head. Words that made sense, that suited who Karris was as a person. Past her hate, her childish assumptions, something pulsed there.
“Sing it,” Karris said, eyes rimmed with red, teeth chewing on the words. As if she wanted Elise to stay silent. But not silent enough to stop her from singing.
Elise obliged. She sang this time – not for everyone, not for her own satisfaction, but for Karris, using the words collected in a mental pool. Unravelling the song of her life. And when Elise sang – she sensed, immediately, that there was magic. It tangled up in her words, layered over her lungs and throat, evaporating in invisible puffs of power.
For the first time, Elise gave herself into the magic, and allowed it to ripple across her skin, electrify the hairs upon her arms.
She saw Karris’s eyes wide, shocked. She saw pain, shame, despair. With that came a breaking, a snapping of self, which Elise scooped up in the song, placing back together. She picked away at the black Karris described. The thing that stopped her from being a better person. One who lived a life of fairness and affection, rather than hatred and rage.
Jorus in the meanwhile watched the whole performance, his knuckles white from tension. Upon finishing, Karris collapsed upon the floor.
“Karris!” Jorus rushed to her side, supporting her upright. He helped prop her head up by the chin. “What happened?”
Karris shook her head, lethargic. Confused. When she finally responded, she said, “I don’t know. But I don’t feel… like I did before.” Her eyes met Elise’s.
For the first time, there was no hate. No smoldering fury that threatened to consume everything inside her. Just eyes, confused, unsure. Grateful. Certainly not an expression that belonged to Karris. “What did you do to me, Elise?”
Oh. This was the first time she’d used Elise’s name.
How to explain what happened without making it obvious? “I made you see. The song… has power. And everyone has a song inside them. I think if you find the right feeling, you can make everyone feel.”
It probably wasn’t the answer Karris was looking for, but Elise didn’t want to say anything out loud which made it sound like she was a magician. She wondered, however, if Jorus suspected. If she could trust him, like Brann.
Another pause from Karris. “I’m sorry I did that to you. I wasn’t thinking straight. I hated you so much… but now I’m wondering… why? Why did I? It makes no sense.” Karris tapped her fist against her chest, eyebrows scrunched in bafflement. “No sense at all…”
“Do you need the lesson off, Karris?” Jorus said kindly. “You can retire early if you want.”
“I… yes.” Karris nodded, relief displaying. “Thank you.”
The thank you made Jorus’s eyes blink in surprise for a second, before he helped escort Karris out. Elise remained there, stunned to see that it worked. It actually worked. She’d somehow taken that hate out of Karris. There was no other explanation for it.
She’d need to see how Karris behaved in the next few days, but that confusion, that lost child look – it was real.
I can’t believe it! Brann was right! It’s magic! Elise started pacing in the room, back and forth from the piano. When Jorus came in, he went straight to her.
“Child. You must be careful. Very careful.” His gray eyes left Elise in no doubt. He knew what Elise could do.
“Brann says that as well.”
“Brann, huh? I should have known he’d have something to do with this. Meddling fool. Listen, child. You sing as you do. But if you do a personal song like that, you should be careful who else hears it. A personal song – it makes it… more obvious. That what you do has a little… extra. Do you understand?”
Elise nodded, though not without a nervous lump wedged in her throat. A secret hardly remained a secret if people continued finding out about it.
“If you ever need to do that again, always make sure the one you sing to is isolated.”
“You won’t tell on me?”
Jorus laughed. “You’re my student. And one of the best singers I’ve ever heard. Of course I won’t. I may not have my fingers in the same dishes Brann’s poking around in, but I’m not going to sell out my student.” He patted her on the shoulder before going to sit at the piano. He poised his fingers above the keys. “Shall we get to the lesson, then?”
Elise watched this happen utterly bewildered. After a pause, she went on with the lesson, which consisted of a mix of original tunes by her, and complicated melodies constructed by others to sing through.
The gray-haired drake acted as if nothing was wrong. As if Karris hadn't been there, blitzed by Elise's singing, and no guards would pour into the room, ready to execute Elise for her blasphemy.
No guards came.
Karris didn't tell.
When Elise finished the lesson, she went off to seek Brann and saw Karris walking with her father. Both of them looked at her – and smiled. Not with barely contained malice, but with genuine fondness.
What?
She smiled back, considered changing direction to avoid them, until Lord Tarken dashed all her hopes by approaching her and saying, “My daughter was just telling me about the special song you sang for her. I would like to hear a song for me, too. A personal song. She keeps going on about how amazing it was.”
Oh.
Two hours ago, Karris wanted to kill Elise. But now? It seemed like she wanted to be friends. “Um, sure.” Instantly, thoughts about keeping it private swam in her head. Jorus's warning rang true. Two were too many people who knew about her power. She needed to mitigate damage before it got worse. “I’d sing it to you, but I don’t want anyone listening. It’s just for you.”
“Hmm.” His eyes sparkled at the idea. “Yes. A private song for me, where no one else can hear. Yes…”
Karris seemed to want to avoid Elise’s eyes, and especially the bruises upon Elise’s arm. When Lord Tarken saw the bruises, he instantly snapped to that familiar anger, hot and cracking like a whip.
“What happened here?” It clearly looked like finger marks. Drat. So much for keeping things under wraps.
“It was me,” Elise said. “I held myself too hard when concentrating on singing. I got really into it.”
He accepted the answer, and a glimmer of gratitude appeared in Karris’s eyes.
Elise found herself being led for the second time that day to sing a personal song. And just as Karris reacted before, Tarken reacted in a similar way in his study. Amazed. Awed. Enchanted. Like with Karris, the words popped up with ease, flowed out of Elise's mouth. Lord Tarken in this scenario craved glory and recognition, craved to rise himself above status as a country lord and become something important. So her song tailored to that need. And it touched something within him.
This time, she could feel the power of her words as they unraveled from deep inside. Now she knew what to look for, and now that she accepted what she did as magic, it unlocked doors in her mind. It allowed her to see.
“You capture me so well, human. You have an astounding talent. Yes… you will do well.” The lack of anger and hate in his eyes made Elise wonder just exactly what it meant when she fished out the hatred in their soul. She thought she even saw it coming out of him this time, black tendrils of corruption that departed from her words.
Is this what I need to do with every wyrm? Do all of them have that black hatred? It astonished her to see the hatred as something substantial. She wondered if hate did the same thing to her as well. If it did the same thing with everyone.
She ate food in the kitchen without being afraid of poison, wondering, wondering what she needed to do.
Sing privately to every wyrm here? Or find a song that affected them all? No. She couldn’t. Not in that way. She sensed that intuitively – the individual needed a private tune. One that matched the beat of their soul. It was easy to tease a standard beat, a typical sadness or joy or energy. Harder to find the one that matched someone exactly. It meant Elise needed to listen to the person she constructed the song about. It meant she needed to understand them, and understanding always led to exhaustion.
When she retired to bed that night, hoping that Brann would be successful tomorrow, she heard a frantic knocking on her door.
Sighing, she went over to open the door, then smiled as Brann stood there outside with a couple of drinks in his hands.
“Drink with me?” Elise thought about the bitter ale in the beerhall back in the mines, then reminded herself that what he held would taste better.
Probably. As long as it was whatever he carried around with him in that hip flask of his.
She allowed him into her simple quarters, feigning a look of utter calm. Her insides writhed like snakes, and her heart beat in a near frenzy when she examined the gorgeous contours of Brann's body.
Anticipation influenced the other moods. An anticipation as to just where exactly she wanted this to go, past the beer Brann held, and past the clothes they wore.
Imagine if he undressed her right now, and kissed along her neck. Imagine being naked, and having him inside.
It made her shiver to know she thought such things. That she'd been thinking of them more and more as she associated with Brann.
It didn't feel right, somehow. She was just Elise. The little girl from the mines who knew how to sing, no glimmering future ahead of her, no lover to hold her in his arms until she slept. She had Ratty, and her voice, and that was fine.
Well, she had Isera, too. But then Isera went away. Not dead, though.
I'm glad she's not dead. The gladness wrapped around her like a blanket, soothing the rough edges of her fears. Isera was safe. Far away, practising her magic, probably becoming a complete expert, flinging fireballs without a care in the world. Though she might have some pent up resentment. And Elise was here, in the middle of the enemy, singing her magic.
She took a drink of his beer, and liked the sweet, apple flavor that came from it. Not beer. Cider.
She squinted at Brann as he talked. What purpose did he have for coming here? Did he feel the same anticipation she did and want to get her tipsy? Did he hope things would turn serious, that they'd stare into each other’s eyes for one moment too long, and then, like magnets, they would come together to kiss?
Did he even like her that way? Elise didn't presume. She knew her like. Her desire. She knew you couldn't spend so much time around someone who was so kind, who provided a feast for your mind, body and soul, without something happening.
Someone who kept your precious secrets, someone who contained mysteries of his own.
Why had she been resisting, really? He wasn't someone you resisted. He was someone you took, and hoped they didn't drown you in the process.
“All in all, if I beat the Dagger, I'm all but secured a ticket into the championships. More money. More prestige. A better life,” he said, gray eyes confident. He gulped at his cider, draining the tankard completely. Elise was only halfway through hers, but already found herself on the spectrum of tipsy.
“Why do you fight for Tarken?” she asked then, daring to ask the questions that others might have beaten her for. Maybe it was liquid courage, propelling some of her nerves, dampening the others. “You're a drake, right? You don't have to slave away in some cold, gas-choked mines, right?”
Brann fell momentarily silent. His lips thinned. “No, I don't,” he said. He scratched at his empty pewter tankard, examining her expression. How did she look to him? Hard? Bitter? Afraid? Dare she think... attractive?
That might be nice.
“But I'm not from a wealthy family. In fact, my family... they've fallen into some major debts of their own. We all do what we can, but we've lost our lands, and we're reduced to a town house in some unimportant county. But even that might go. There is no harvest, and the wyrms levy hard taxes on us to 'pay off our debts' faster. We're one step from losing everything.” He stopped, breathing hard through his nostrils, and Elise wondered if she should ask him to quit talking, because it gave him so much discomfort.
However, she wanted to hear more about that mysterious past he'd never let up on before. She wanted to understand what brought him here, to such a strange place, far away from other drakes.
Maybe he operated on liquid courage, too. Might explain the bottles and the full flask then.
“Tarken's one of those wyrms who likes looking into ways of making extra cash. He was looking for fighters – his last pet fighter got crippled. And, well, he saw me during the fight that gave me this wound, suggested I could train a bit and fight for him if I wanted. He'd work on sponsors and paying me.” Brann licked his lips, then examined his tankard, as if hoping to find more liquid dwelling at the bottom. “I did that. But not before I was contacted by a friend of mine – Kalgrin – that I should keep an eye out for any humans who showed signs of magic. He said he'd pay me if I pointed them out and protected them until people from his organization came. I did that with your friend. Not with you, though. Not yet.”
“Why?” Elise asked. “Why not me?” She was leaning forward, wanting to hear more. Needing to. He could have made money protecting her and smuggling her to safety. She saw the logic in it, didn't condemn him for it.
She didn't understand why he hadn't reported her to this Kalgrin.
His gray eyes linked with her blue ones. She shivered. That contact was the sort that got deep inside, stirring forgotten emotions.
“I saw your magic was actively changing those you came into contact with. In a good way. I saw Tarken becoming kinder. Softer. I even saw him earlier on talking about how he needed to provide some more distractions for the humans in the mines. He was thinking of letting them have music lessons, art lessons. Mostly thinking of profit and maybe finding more talent to sell, but imagine what that would do for human lives. And...” His voice dropped to a whisper. Elise strained to listen. “Because I didn't want you to go so soon. I didn't want you to leave me.” He deflated as he said this.
Elise's heart pulsed oddly. Was this... was this what she thought it was? Sounded like it. Sounded like something she'd been waiting for a long time. Her cheeks heated. Still, she licked her lips and asked, “Why didn't you want me to go, Brann?” She reached for his hand, grasping it in hers. He seemed to blink oddly as she did so, and stare at the contact as if he'd been burned.
Maybe he had. Maybe she affected him with a little bit of magic, too. She no longer bothered to conceal the desire that simmered in her heart.
“I...”
He closed his eyes for a moment. Then he reached over to kiss her. She saw it coming, had the time to prepare, to decide if she wanted this, and then lifted her lips to meet his. She'd never kissed someone who kissed her back. Sometimes she kissed Ratty goodnight, or sort of did the motion with her finger when she was thinking, but never upon someone else's warm mouth.
Such soft, firm lips. Elise sighed into the contact. Warmth spread through her. So many things she'd never experienced before, and Brann helped show her all of them, one by one.
People told her that sex was supposed to hurt. That women didn't like it, that only men got any enjoyment out of it, but she wasn't sure if that was the truth or not. After all, they only understood a warped version of the truth anyway.
She certainly found herself enjoying this. The soft contact of their lips together, the way his arms bent around her. His soft cotton shirt brushed against her servant's blouse, snaring on one of the buttons. She stopped the kissing long enough to unhook it, and he took that as invitation to start teasing off her top.
He worked carefully to do so, treating her as something beautiful and delicate. Like someone worth it. She didn't feel particularly delicate at that moment in time, though. Her hands worked on his shirt, wanting once more to see that wonderful, toned body lurking underneath. In taking off his top, having his chest exposed, she smiled and ran her fingers down it. She liked the way he shuddered under her touch.
He didn't want to lose me. The thought thrilled her. It cheered her up to know that someone wanted her that much.
She could get very, very used to this.
Obviously she forgave him.
“I'm sorry,” Brann whispered, before staring at her exposed chest. She wore no brassiere underneath her clothes, leaving her small, globe-shaped breasts bare, with nipples hardening as he stroked along them. “I'll stop being selfish. I'll get into contact with them and you can be out of here safely by tomorrow. It only takes me a few hours to fly to them. That's all. I'm sorry I risked your life. I didn't want to see you go.”
The sincerity washed over, but she didn't want those promises right now. She just wanted Brann.
Now both their upper halves glinted on display in the dim light, and Brann lowered her to the bed, and she opened her legs up so he fell comfortably between them. They continued kissing. She felt something between her legs – wetness. Right. Women did that, didn't they? To make it easier for the man.
Her heart beat so fast. Faster than she thought possible, when not hiding in fear. That wetness got more awkward, sticking to the bottom of her panties, and she squirmed – which seemed to turn Brann on more. His erection strained against his pants, pushing lightly against her hip bone. She clawed at his head and tangled her tongue with his, after he probed gently past her lips.
So many new sensations. So many exotic, tumbling emotions, sweet and heavy all at once, from fear that something would go wrong, if she did something wrong, to happiness that he held her like this. The flush zipped between their faces. Both of their cheeks flared that same red, and she smiled at him with dazed, pupil-blown eyes.
She started tugging at his pants and he obliged, wriggling out of them, before yanking the rest of her clothes off without much ceremony. She inspected him in awe. Such a magnificent body. Lean, tough, with a good heaping of muscle, and an iron-hard stomach. She touched it. She doubted even a dagger could punch through that. His gray eyes crinkled in mirth, and he kissed to her neck, breathing hot, tantalizing air that made her shiver and shiver.
I'm drowning. I'm drowning and I love it.
The main fear came from the final act. Everyone said it hurt. Women complained about men, saying they had no finesse, no sense of pride or consideration towards women.
She hoped she wouldn't do something dumb, like burst out crying or something. That might ruin the mood.
He must have seen something of her fear, for he stopped and stroked her hair in a soothing gesture. “You've not had sex before, have you?”
Elise shook her head, wanting to shrink away into the duvet covers in embarrassment.
“Well, I might have a surprise for you... if you stay still long enough.” Now a wicked grin entered his face, and it sent another trembling gasp through Elise's body. He leaned back to regard her fully, and she got to see him as well. All the way down to that strange organ jutting from between his thighs.
A lock to a lady's key. She flushed from remembering that phrase. The color then intensified since she had no reason to blush on that. Or with him. He accepted her. This wasn't wrong, or awkward.
His eyes locked with hers as he slid his hand down between her thighs. His hand?
His...
Oh.
Oh.
Elise gasped out loud, before clamping her palm over her lips, not wanting to make any noise. Violent, pleasurable sensations shot through her, almost unbearable. Her body shuddered, and she tried to writhe away.
“Stay still,” Brann whispered. “Endure.”
His fingers were slipping above her entrance, touching something tiny and sensitive. Whenever it seemed to get dry, he moved some of her fluid back up, keeping the nub wet. He continued stroking it, and it became harder for her to contain the sounds.
The pressure latched onto her stomach, her legs, stiffening her neck and making her forget at times to breathe. Often, she needed to take a huge, gulping breath to restore the oxygen she lacked.
She wanted it to stop and to keep going at the same time, to see what happened when that pressure peaked.
Something changed there, and he began to flick at her faster, though not so much harder. The tension exploded. She let out a sort of squeak as a warm flow of bliss swept everything away, leaving her drifting, sighing in pleasure.
The people in the mines... they had lied.
Sex was wonderful. And he hadn't even gone inside her yet.
He waited until she calmed down, then carefully placed a finger inside her, testing how tight she was. One finger, then two. Then, he pressed his erection against her entrance after taking his fingers out. Maintaining eye contact with her, which made her heart speed up yet again after beating in her chest, exhausted. He slid all the way in.
It didn't hurt. Or, it sort of did at first, until she got used to it, and he adjusted to her. The warm, floating feeling persisted, even as he thrust against her, his arms braced on either side, her body swaying with the motion. Another tiny crackle of pleasure went through her when he came as well. He did so with a quiet groan, eyes squeezed shut. Did he feel the same thing she did? Was it this floating, out-of-world sensation that made him lower himself to her side?
I bet it would be dangerous to seek this out too often. I think there's only so much happiness a body can contain.
She closed her eyes, resting and smiling for a moment, before opening them again. She examined Brann as she lay next to him. He'd carelessly looped her in his arms.
This is what I'm missing, she thought. This. The closeness. Just like the kindness he showed her, that created cracks in the mask of who she thought she was. She needed this as well. To have a moment of fulfilment.
The sex didn't matter, though it still coursed so sweetly in her veins.
What mattered was the bond. The connection. Something unfamiliar to her, but something beautiful.
Beauty in sadness. Someone said that to her once. She didn't find sadness beautiful, though. Sad was sad, it dragged you down, nothing great about that. Beauty came from connection, from the bonds people shared. From the trust they gave.
I'll get you out of here. I'm sorry for being selfish. The words continued to echo in her mind.
She slept again. No dreams plagued her. No nightmares.