12. Vera #2
I expected him to be shocked. To launch into a hundred questions about my magic and what I could do. But to my surprise, he was quiet, until he said, “That’s why he hurt you.”
I looked back up at him. It wasn’t a question, but I nodded anyway.
“My father was governor of the Shifter province,” I started, letting the story take over.
“When I was a year old, another man challenged him for the position.
Kane Scarven. He killed my father and became governor, then took my older brother, my mother, and me hostage in his mansion.
My brother is a dragon Shifter, the first of his kind in over two hundred years.
Scarven wanted to see what made him so unique. So the three of us were locked away.
“My powers started showing when I was eleven. I—I created light, which isn’t normal for our province. But everyone thought maybe an ancestor down the line was a Lightbender, and it passed to me. A little while later, I partially shifted. Two abilities is uncommon, but not unheard of.”
I cleared my throat again, then scratched the scar on the inside of my arm.
“Two years later, I conjured shadows. That’s when Scarven started monitoring me more.
But a couple of years after that, I cast an illusion on one of the guards.
He hurt me, and I couldn’t get him to go away.
I imagined my brother barging into the room in his dragon form to rescue me.
” I shrugged. “All of a sudden, the guard started running around, screaming his head off. I had cast an illusion of a dragon attacking him without even knowing it.”
My foot tapped anxiously against the floor.
I got to my feet and paced in front of the fireplace.
“Scarven took me away from my family for good. He and his head Alchemist, Malek Mortep, locked me in a cell and experimented on me for years. They tortured me, taking me to my breaking point to see what my magic could do. They—they stripped me of everything. My family, my free will, my identity.”
My voice caught, and the words came out choked. I turned away from Starke and gazed into the empty fireplace. Cold ashes dusted the floor, with charred, blackened logs staring up at me.
“Mortep cast spells to brainwash me. He put me under his and Scarven’s control, where I did everything they asked.
I was their lapdog. Their weapon against those who disagreed with them, and their threat to keep the other prisoners in line.
They forced me into magical fighting rings for sport.
I—I killed so many people. Innocent people.
Some of them were just—just children. Like me. ”
I raised my fist to my mouth to hold back a wave of nausea. I could still see the other prisoners I’d fought. The bodies I burned with my phoenix fire, the throats I slit, the magic I used to end their lives. Over and over again. The cheering of the crowd begging for blood. The rush of applause.
I hadn’t been in control of my own body, but I could still see it. I knew what my hands had done, and when their compulsion over me finally snapped last year, the guilt slammed into me one hundred-fold.
I’d been drowning in it ever since.
“That’s why I’m here,” I said, breaking the heavy silence. “Scarven is dead, but Mortep got away. And I don’t—I can’t live in a world where he’s still free. I left my home, my family, my—” I cut myself off, not allowing the image of Everett to cloud my thoughts.
“I know I’ve been blinded by my hatred. I know I’ve taken you and so many others here for granted.
I’m not trying to, Starke. But sometimes it feels like if I let myself stop for even one second, it’s all just—it’s all going to cave in.
” My voice dropped, barely a whisper. “And I don’t think I can survive that. Not again.”
My words lingered in the air. I was exhausted, but in a way, I felt lighter than I had before.
Lighter than I had in months, even. I’d never been good at letting others share my burdens—partially because being close to anyone put them in constant danger, and partially because, after Everett, there had been nobody left.
“Fates, Vera,” Starke said on an exhale. I turned to face him, unable to meet his eyes for more than a few seconds. “I’m so sorry. I had no idea. All this time, that’s what you’ve been carrying?” he asked. “If I had known, I would’ve—”
“You’ve already done so much, Starke. There’s nothing anyone can do except help me end this. I don’t want your apologies or your sympathy. I want you to help me fight.”
“Of course.” He nodded and swallowed hard, his throat bobbing up and down. “Of course, I will. Can you just promise me one thing?” He stood and stepped toward me, and my body went into high alert at his proximity. I calmed myself and gave a quick nod.
“No more secrets. We have to trust each other if we’re going to do this. Can you agree to that?” he asked.
I bit my lip. “I’ll try, I promise.”
He smiled, and my anxiety slipped away just a little bit. “Good. So will you finally tell me why you were banging down my door tonight?”
I blinked. I’d actually forgotten that was why I came here in the first place. “About that…” I said slowly, already preparing for his sigh of exasperation. “I think I found a lead about the dead crew on Twin Tides.”
“Let me guess, you need my ship.” I gave him a half-wince, half-grin, and he closed his eyes. “Where to this time?”
“I thought you’d never ask.” I pulled the reports from my jacket. “How do you feel about Shipwreck Cove?”