Revan watched the candle flame dance on Zara’s silent command. Rise and fall, up and down, side to side. She continued the motions with her finger touching the flame, but not letting it burn her skin.

“You’re getting better at this,” he said just as the flame flickered. It was their fifth lesson tonight, and she’d been at this mindless candle-dance for half an hour already. This talent she had with the natural-world elements was impressive—a second nature to her. It took him weeks to get the flame to move his way when he first started. His previous apprentice had taken even longer, spanning into a month.

He watched her some more. The candle exercise was an old one; it did well on improving one’s soul concentration mainly, next to the ability to control a flame.

She said nothing, but eventually yanked her finger away in a hiss, finally having lost focus. Zara resorted to watching the flame with a blank stare, both her palms flat on the table.

“Are you alright?” he asked, though he knew she still hadn’t gotten over what had happened two nights prior, when she’d scarred her brother’s face with hot shards of glass. He’d even gotten some pieces in his eyes and had to be taken to Dr. Almur’s clinic immediately. His wife had naturally gone with him, and they’ve been away from the house ever since.

Quite the character, that older brother of hers. Revan had, of course, been watching everything through The Mirror. It was so easy to get samples of Zara nowadays. All he had to do was swipe a cloth over the places she’d sit for her lessons, or pick up stray hairs—and there were always stray hairs, the girl liked to shed quite a bit—and he’d have hours of Mirror time on hand. He hadn’t told her about The Mirror yet. It would cause her too much anxiety, too much consciousness about everything. He simply pretended not to know what her sullen attitude was about.

“I know when something bad has happened,” he said when she remained quiet.

Zara let out a breath, almost like she’d expected this. “Do you?” she whispered.

“You can tell me.”

“I assumed you would know.”

“And why would you assume that?”

“Because you seem to know everything.”

“…Is that so?”

She finally turned her gaze—serious and unmoving—to his face. “When I look at you, I know.”

Revan couldn’t stop his mouth from curving up. “You’re observant. Or my acting skills are not how they used to be. I suppose that’s how it is when you’ve lived alone for a very long time.”

Zara gave him a single nod. “It’s like the mask no longer fits.”

Revan pulled up a chair and sat next to her. They were in his study. Zara was sitting at the wide wooden desk Revan had set up specifically for her lessons. Books and ink-stained scrolls littered one end, along with a few random props taken from the many shelves that lined this room. A plate of chocolate cake crumbs rested on top of an open book about fire rituals. The small stone hearth lit the study into a dim glow, offering it a cozy warmth at the same time.

“How would you know about that?” he asked. “You’re so young.”

“I’ve been alone practically all my life.”

“Still, what could you possibly know about masks?”

“…My brother, the older one. Naz. He keeps up such a good face in front of my parents, and everyone else for that matter. Part of me couldn’t believe it, but then I thought, what would I know about him? But that night, I realized…he’s not all the good that he claims to be. Behind his money, his awards, his houses, his wife, he’s cruel. He’s cruel to me. He’s cruel to Rowan. He chose to show us this nasty side of him, and not my parents, not anybody else. He did it because he wanted to do it, and not because he couldn’t hide it. He could’ve hid it, if he wanted to. He—and I’m sure his wife too—those types of people…are good at keeping their faces clean when it needs to be. That’s what makes them such great socialites. They have the practice for it, the skill. They are something…I can never be.”

She’d been rambling quietly to herself, her eyes trained on the candle’s light as though it possessed her.

“Is he here, Zara?” A pointless question. But he asked it anyway.

Zara looked at him.

He smirked. “His face isn’t so clean now, is it?”

A pause.

“You already know,” she murmured.

“I do.”

“Are you ever going to show me how?”

“I haven’t decided.”

“You said you would.”

“If the time ever came.”

Zara huffed, turning back to the candle. She blew it out in a harsh puff of breath.

“I am sorry you had to endure that,” he offered truthfully.

“I almost blinded him. And now his face looks like…”

“But it’s not permanent, right?”

“No…and he’ll still be able to see,” Zara said this like she was now trying to convince herself it all wasn’t so terrible. Her voice still trembled, however.

“Nazeer is his name, correct?”

Zara nodded.

“An interesting young man. I can’t help wondering, what his desire is with you.”

Zara shivered. “Don’t say it like that.”

“He saved you from your father’s wrath, despite what you did to him. He pushed all the blame onto your younger brother, claiming he had smashed the glass in his face out of hate.” Revan chuckled heartily. “Oh, that poor boy. He really couldn’t build a decent case for himself against that man. It was quite a convincing act to watch—”

Zara jolted. “Watch? So you were…nearby? Oh—” She exhaled. “—let me guess, you turned yourself into some kind of bird again and flew to my house.” Then she frowned in thought, muttering to herself, “But then, how could you have seen…?”

“No. I was sitting here. Well—not here but…” He pointed to the red curtain covering the doorway, indicating that he’d been in the parlor across the hall. “Over there, perhaps.”

Now she was very confused. “What?”

Revan smiled, but offered nothing more on the subject. “How is Rowan, by the way?”

Zara grew despondent again. “He’s shut up in his room. My father punished him with a beating.”

“Naturally.”

This was all so very typical to him. For Zara and Rowan, who had each received their fair share of corporal punishment—especially Zara—the pain of it was still so fresh to them. Revan, through his lifetime, had received three times the amount of beatings as these children will ever experience in their entire lives, he was sure of it. It was simply something most households did to their dependents throughout the majority of the world—whether they were children or grown adults, it didn’t matter. And this hadn’t changed for the one hundred plus years he’s lived so far. It will never change.

“He’s not allowed to leave until my cousin’s engagement party at the end of the week,” Zara explained.

“Two more days then. You can take solace in the fact that you’re not the only one locked up in that house now. I do wonder if your parents have taken this chance to enjoy their time alone together…especially in the evening, with neither of you there for any of the meals.”

“I don’t understand what his deal is,” Zara said, ignoring him. She stared into the desk’s wood surface in a dazed astonishment, obviously going on about her brother again. “Why would do that? Why would he tell them that Rowan had done it?”

“To protect you?”

“Wha—But why?”

“It serves his interests, for now. He’s planning something,” Revan said, matter-of-factly. It was easy for anyone with enough personal experience to tell that Nazeer was scheming. Even while enduring the agony of glass puncturing his eye sockets, he was still scheming. A dedicated man, he was. Perhaps that’s what led to his big-city success in the first place. Revan could respect that.

Zara looked at him, startled. “Planning? Planning what?”

“That, I do not know. Unfortunately, I cannot read minds.”

“You can’t?”

“Well…no.” There is a spell for it, but the ability does not come natural to me. However, he didn’t feel like revealing those thoughts out loud.

“But you can alter them to your liking?”

“Would you like some coffee? You’re tired.”

“No. Wait—” She shook her head. “—maybe later.”

Zara seemed to be growing more distressed. Frazzled. She ran her hands down her face, then closed her palms together in front of her lips as if in prayer.

“Naz had said he wanted to take me away, to the city. Was he even being serious? I couldn’t tell. From him, it’s the oddest request I’ll ever hear. What would he even want me with him there for?” She looked him square in the eye, now pointing her closed palm at him. “Revan, since you were spying, what did it look like from your end? Did he seem genuine to you?”

All Revan could recall now was the sheer bafflement on the young man’s face before Zara had blown the glass into pieces. His and Zara’s expressions during this specific act were the only ones worth remembering to him.

Letting the comment about spying go, he replied, “I believe he did want you to go with him. Though, his intention to take you to Darhai is likely not as pure as he claimed it to be. I do not think he is trying to truly help you escape your situation at home.”

“It’s what I thought,” Zara grumbled.

He considered for a minute her tone, her sunken posture, and her lost-looking appearance.

“Did you want him to be genuine?”

“Hm?”

“Did you want him to mean it? To take you away from there?”

Her large, dark eyes glimmered in the study’s firelight. She did not break her gaze away from him. Her lower lip quivered as she whispered:

“Have I become that desperate?”

Revan remembered a time, as a boy, when he’d do anything to leave his country. Many villages in Divvi, the southern-most country of the continent where Revan had been unfortunate enough to be born into, were stricter with girls than they were with boys. So for him to scrap his way around until he found a suitable means of escape had been easier for him, unlike his sisters. But in the end, even with his weak magic, he had to resort to selling himself for slave labor, then eventually for sex. He hadn’t given a damn at the time, because he’d made it out of the country like he wanted and that was all that mattered. At the time.

He reached for Zara’s shoulder, to comfort her, but she flinched at the contact. He withdrew his hand.

“This won’t last forever,” was all he could say.

Zara held back tears. She sniffed, turning herself to the hearth. “I was thinking about it. I was so angry back then, I thought, ‘I would never go anywhere with this man, even if he is supposed to be family. How could I stay with someone who’s only ever shown me contempt?’ But the more I thought about it later, when I was alone again, it’s like…it’s like I don’t even care who I go with anymore. I’ll go with anyone, if they’re willing to take me with them.”

“I know,” he said. “I know this feeling well. But Zara, you must know, it may feel like freedom in the beginning, but in truth, it won’t be. It’ll just be something worse. Like moving from one cage to another.”

“What could be worse than this?” she spoke quietly.

“You don’t want to know.”

She glanced at him, but said no more.

This was the first time they were having a conversation that didn’t directly coincide with him teaching her something. She was opening up to him more, the timid thing. At this stage of her life, he was the person she was most comfortable with—at least, as comfortable as someone like her can get—and it filled him with a tiny bit of warmth. Just a tiny bit, for his cold, lonely heart. But only time would tell if this apprenticeship will work in the long run. Time was something they had plenty of.

Suddenly, Zara’s meek voice asked, “Will you take me away?”

Revan studied her profile: her gaunt cheek, somber black pupil, and grim chapped lips that she licked moisture into every now and then.

“I made you my apprentice, and I do not plan to stay in Pria forever. Does that answer your question?”

She looked to him again, her breath shaky.

“And…it won’t be worse with you? Like another cage?” She let out a breathy chuckle, like her nerves couldn’t help but find it a tad funny.

Revan shrugged, lips curling like he was playing along with her joke. “Not to worry. I would never lock you in a bedroom for hours at a time. What use would you be of to me then?”

Zara cracked a faint, tired smile. “Right.”

He watched her put aside the candle and pull forward her notes, an ink bottle, and one of his older quills, her mood a little lighter from earlier, but not by much. This hardship was only the beginning, he thought. She felt guilt over her younger brother taking the fall for a reason she wasn’t sure she wanted to know. She still blamed herself for the little boy she couldn’t save, though she hardly ever spoke of him. Perhaps she didn’t want to think about it, perhaps it was another reason entirely. Revan never asked. He thought about whether he should tell her the truth about the boy—the ever-so ordinary boy he was—but, he needed to consider the consequences of telling her such a thing. He couldn’t have her be angry at him, or going into a mentally depressed state, or worse, distancing herself from him.

Maybe he would tell her—like he would about The Mirror—someday. But today was not that day.

The rustling of papers ceased as Zara stilled her movements.

At the same time, Revan had gotten up to gather his own materials. “Shall we try experimenting with bigger sources of heat now? Or maybe you’d like to move on to another element? I want you to practice perfecting that innate power of yours, before we move on to practical spells—”

“Um…”

“Is something the matter?” She seemed disturbed.

“Where is your washroom?” she asked, barely audible. “I mean—may I use your washroom?”

Revan blinked. She had never asked to use it before, and he’d never thought twice about why. The girl hardly ate or drank at his place in the first place.

“Is it an emergency?” he asked, rather tactlessly.

“Uh…yes.” She rubbed her forehead, refusing to look at him.

And then he remembered. His eyes lit up as a better idea for a lesson struck his mind.

“The washroom is down the hall,” he said. “It will be the first door to your left.”

She stood, checked her seat, and hurried past him, adjusting the sheer shawl around her chest. She wore a long cotton top and loose pants, both of which were dark purple. Even if she had stained herself, he likely wouldn’t have noticed it anyway.

“Zara, wait,” he said before she slipped past the curtain. “When you return, I’d rather we go over the effect menstruation has on witches—and how you can use it to your advantage.”

Zara gaped at him for a good thirty seconds until blurting out a dumbfounded, “Huh?”

Revan knew he was being insensitive, but he was past the point of caring about it. He’d had sisters and multiple wives. He had served his own apprenticeship under a witch, who hadn’t been shy about these matters at all. This shit didn’t faze him. He grabbed a small jar and took out some gauze from his personal desk, ripping her a piece.

“Now’s the perfect time to start teaching you. Hurry along, and bring back a sample of blood for us to use.”

Her face—as red as the curtain behind her—scrunched up at the request, and at the gauze he’d placed in her hand. She did not move to take the jar. “No! What in the hell is wrong with you?! How do you even KNOW about this?! Were you watching when I was—?”

“I caught you at a bad time.” He’d only glimpsed her changing her cloths when checking on her the other night. Of course, he’d instantly put The Mirror down then.

She grit her teeth. “You’re disgusting.”

Revan sighed. “Didn’t you say you’d be willing to learn anything from me?”

“But this is—!!”

“You are under my command. ‘No’ is not option.”

“What?!” She looked panicked.

Revan softened his tone. “I promise you, this is for your benefit. Trust me.”

“T-Trust you?” she stammered. “You’re a pervert.”

“I assure you, I’m not,” he growled defensively. “If you choose not to trust me, I can always just make you do it.”

“NO! You said you wouldn’t play that stupid mind trick on me again!” Zara yelled angrily. Tears gathered in her eyes, and she threw the gauze back at him. It fluttered to the ground.

Revan took a deep breath. He really was out of touch with women, wasn’t he? Sometimes, his one-track mind—and temper—got the best of him.

“Alright, alright.” He held up his hands in surrender—one was still occupied with the jar. “I’m sorry.” Though he wasn’t, really. “How about this: we get through tonight, and in return, I will show you how I fly at our next lesson.”

That caught her attention, albeit hesitant.

Revan went on, “The intensity of your power is correlated with your cycle. This is magic only you can do. Wouldn’t you like to learn more about it?”

The awkward silence went on for what felt like minutes. Silently, she took the jar out of his hand. Her eyes reluctantly scanned the floor for the gauze.

“Don’t take that one.” He gave her a fresh piece.

“First door down to the left, you said?” she mumbled.

“Yes. I’ll have some coffee ready for you when you return.”

A brief nod later, she left his sight.