Our Lady of Joy: Our Lady of Joy, #1

Chapter One

Lira Roberts slouched in her seat, ignoring the teacher’s droning voice.

Soon enough it was joined by the insistent tapping of a foot against the back of her chair. Even so, she refused to turn her head. She knew that she was supposed to look to her right, at her goofy pal there, courtesy of the subtle signal delivered from his friend behind her. He must have thought of something funny to do to get a reaction from her. He got all bouncy and stupid when that happened, just like a puppy, she thought and just like a puppy, he barked and bounced until she responded.

Psst! New Girl!

Knowing that the kicking would continue, she just gave in, looking to the right, at her new pal there, whose name she still didn’t know. While she tried not to laugh, the goofy jock itched the side of his face with his upraised middle finger, snickering as he did. Lira shot him a sweetly sarcastic smile as she used both middle fingers to wipe under her eyes right back at him before swinging her head around to the board. He giggled like a two-year-old and she was hard pressed not to smirk back at him. He might be an idiot, but for some reason, he felt like the only sincere person here.

When school had started the week before last, she had been polite to everyone who had spoken to her and kept her head down like she always did. She had watched in the cafeteria as the popular kids had tortured the geeky girls, the heavy girls, the shy girls. The jocks had tossed food and had made loud jokes targeting the girls while their insecure girlfriends had snickered. They had everything, this group that she had watched bully the other students—this was the elite of the school. Smart, popular and athletic, they had bright futures. But despite that, or perhaps because of it, some of them were petty, small-minded and cruel when they found easy targets. It had infuriated her.

She had understood that anyone cruel was most likely in pain and she believed that to be true with all her heart. Her father had told her early and often that nasty people are hurting and any more pain given to them would just make them nastier. Give them kindness, he always had told her, be so kind that they cannot be cruel without it becoming so obvious that even they are shamed by their behavior. Good advice, but not entirely practical in every case, she had been forced to admit as she had watched these kids treat others so cruelly from her very first day and waited for them to notice her with dread.

So when her turn had come last week, she had been ready.

It had all started so simply. She had gotten up to throw something out and one of the jocks nearest to the garbage can had leaped up, gyrating and gesturing at her in obscene parody, before making gagging motions as if repulsed by the very idea of her. And even though she had wanted to burst into tears and give him the finger, she had not. Instead, she had steeled herself, dutifully waiting while they had laughed their fill like brain-damaged hyenas, a little smile on her face as if she were amused even as she had felt her face turn red from the discomfort of both their mockery and everyone’s observation. All of them staring at her, from the laughing popular kids to the sympathetic outcasts, had been threatening enough en-masse that she had let out the ugliest version of herself right from the beginning, not even trying to play along or ignore it.

Show time.

That might be funny, Lira had said, her voice as amused as she could make it, hoping it cooled her red face, except that I’m pretty sure your bullying means I’m looking at a table full of bed-wetters, cutters, compulsive masturbators and balding bulimics. Very telling, your behavior. It points out that you aren’t normal, happy people at all, despite appearances. My advice is that you get help because your behavior isn’t funny or clever outside of your little lifetime fiefdom here. In the real world, everyone will see right through you and know how screwed up you really are. Just like I do now.

I don’t care if they like me. I already hate this school.

I don’t need any friends this year, anyway. I just need to graduate.

Now I just want to be left alone.

Determined not to leave them with the suggestion that she would be an easy target for retribution, Lira had kept going. Yes, that meant there would be lots of whispering and pointing, she had understood, but she was used to that. She could stand that a lot better than constant abuse and bullying, so having fought back, she had to win now or it would keep happening. So intent on that philosophy of win or die, Lira had kept speaking.

Do you want to keep getting to know each other better? she had asked into the charged silence, allowing malice to creep into her voice. We could become best friends right here in front of everyone or you could just leave me alone and I’ll return the favor. Your call. I’m only here to finish out the year, then I’m gone. I have nothing to lose either way. But I bet you do.

Then she had smiled at them. A big, toothy smile. She had given them the kind of smile she had imagined someone who hated her might give her right before stabbing her, like hurting her was sunsets, champagne and a hot tub in the mountains after finding a winning lottery ticket, all in one. She had smiled at them maliciously, like hurting them had felt good.

The table as a whole had stared blankly back at her. The rest of the room had fallen silent by degrees as she had spoken, as if shocked by her response and uncertain of how to respond to such clear evidence that the new girl was psychotic. Even the kids she had judged to be perpetual victims had been looking at her fearfully. That had saddened her immensely, because despite her comments, she really wasn’t ever knowingly cruel unless she was defending herself. But once she had spoken, her hopes for any friendship of even the most superficial kind had evaporated right before her very eyes, all because she had overdone it once again, she had known. Depressed once more at her realization that this was now her life for the next year based on their expressions, Lira had decided that it was time to leave, school rules or not.

I’m glad we had a chance to talk, she had said, her tone sarcastic. I feel so welcome here now. It’s been a pleasure.

When none of them had responded, she had smiled tightly at them, waggled her fingers and then wheeled away to leave the cafeteria. The only sound had been her footsteps until she had reached the door. Then a single voice had come from the table she had just addressed.

That was awesome! Dude, that chick is crazy! one of the jocks had yelled wildly and enthusiastically into the silence as if he had been cheering at a football game. I think I pissed myself! Don’t leave, New Girl! Come back! Do it again! I want more, more!

New Girl again. Yeah, never been called that before.

Better than some of the alternatives, I suppose.

The jock had banged on the table like a hyperactive child until the noise of a single explosive slap had reached Lira, followed by silence. As the cafeteria had erupted in a din behind her, Lira had continued out through the doors of the school and over to her car, making a mental note to claim illness when her father found out. She had just gone home and slept the rest of the day, feeling vaguely sick and guilty for being so cruel. Like always, pushed into a corner, she had been absolutely vicious, a character trait of which she was ashamed.

When she reached that point where she felt threatened, Lira tended towards the wildfire approach. She sprayed gasoline everywhere, tossed a lit match and hoped that she could run fast enough to get out of the way while her enemies burned to death. It wasn’t that she wanted to hurt them as much as she just wanted them to stop hurting her and never again consider it thereafter.

Since she always made a point of never starting it, she didn’t ever feel the need to be gentle by then and only cared about stopping it as quickly as possible using the easiest, most effective method, nasty or not. And so far in her life, it had always worked. But it also meant that she had developed the unfortunate psychological habit of driving around in the mental equivalent of a tanker trunk, fully loaded and ready to go at a moment’s notice. Like an accelerant, her mouth was always guaranteed to throw gas on the fire and make it even more destructive than it might be if left alone.

Since that memorable explosion last week, everyone had left her alone, except for that one jock, the one who had yelled in approval and was now distracting her from listening to her math teacher. But Lira didn’t mind him, actually and not just because she would rather make obscene gestures than study math. He was kind of cute in a big, dorky way, all goofy, flailing limbs and gigantic feet. While she wasn’t wild about his friends, she had never seen him torment anyone personally and he was pretty funny, though they didn’t actually talk. Whenever he saw her in the halls or in the math class they shared, he always made some lewd gesture and then bounced excitedly while he waited for her to respond. When she returned his insult equally rudely, he would snicker and guffaw in a kind of dopey jock delight. There was nothing even vaguely threatening or unkind about it at all, aside from the crudeness of their shared vocabulary.

Actually, in a weird way, Lira thought he might be her only friend here.

Great. My new best friend is so socially-maladjusted that he’s like a big, crotch-sniffing dog.

I hate this town.

Now, when the bell rang and her math teacher waved them away in response, she made a final rude gesture at her new puppy, which made him bounce and snicker, then she was out the door and on her way to her car. With no friends, no job and last week’s little drama in the cafeteria still scaring off everyone, she only really had the option to go home, so she drove there, barely aware of the light filtering through the trees so that the earliest tinges of red and gold could just be seen.

Becoming an outcast was normal for her, sadly enough. Or at least it had been the last few years once she had stopped trying to fit in, she admitted. She wasn’t a complete jerk as much as she no longer cared to even try climbing the social ladder of her latest home, repetitive and pointless as such a thing was. Her father worked cash jobs, usually in construction or at farms as he was a wonder with horses, so they moved from one small town to another at least every school year. When she was younger, they had never stayed anywhere longer than six months at most and one year, she had attended five different schools in five different states. Now that she was old enough to make all kinds of sarcastic remarks about the Mafia and witness protection which her father, a former police officer, did not find funny at all, they seemed to have settled into a pattern of annual migration, as she liked to think of it.

That sounded better, at least.

But while she had never particularly enjoyed their nomadic lifestyle and her resulting social issues, what was bothering her now was that she had broken her mother’s necklace just that morning. She had been pulling off her pajamas and the thin silver chain had just broken before she had even felt a tug. It was the only thing she had left from her mother, who had died in a car accident when she was an infant and in light of that, her father insisted that she wear it all the time out of respect and had for as long as she literally could remember.

Lira didn’t mind at all. She thought it was rather sweet.

Her dad was a good guy, even if he still did insist on treating her like she was five, down to pointing to his cheek and intoning kiss, kiss before she left for school or went to sleep, a directive she had begun as a child that had somehow morphed into a tradition between them that was still going strong despite her complaints about it now at seventeen. So she was pretty sure he would limit his vapors over her breaking her mother’s necklace since it was right in her backpack, just waiting to be fixed. He would be home around six and she could show it to him then, she decided.

At least I didn’t lose it.

She pulled into the driveway, turned off her car and hopped out, grabbing her backpack from the passenger seat and hoisting it over her shoulder. As she rounded the corner of the house to the back door, she noticed something odd. The woods all around the house were silent. She stood by the back door, confused as she wondered what had frightened the birds.

That’s the last thing she remembered.

Chapter Two

Lira woke to the distant murmur of voices drifting over her head.

She slowly eased her eyes open, wincing at the pounding ache in her skull. She heard a click as if a door had closed. She could see a rich burgundy brocade fabric in front of her eyes and realized she was lying on a couch.

Where am I? Am I dreaming?

She sat up when she heard the rustle of what sounded like clothing. A very pretty, dark-haired woman in an ornate crimson dress leaned casually against a desk across from the couch, studying her with predatory intensity. Lira froze when their eyes met, not knowing where she was or what was happening. But she knew something was very wrong.

This is bad. Very bad.

Without breaking eye contact, she started to slide her hands towards her pockets, hoping to find something she could use to defend herself. Just as her fingers reached her front pocket, the woman blinked and the predatory look was gone, replaced with a gentle smile.

My dear girl, are you feeling better now? she asked in a smooth, cultured voice.

What happened? Where am I? Who are you? I want to go home now, please, Lira said, her voice higher than normal.

May I get you anything to eat or drink? the woman asked.

I need to go home now, Lira repeated, this time more firmly. Do you have a phone? I don’t seem to have mine with me and I need my dad to come get me.

Perhaps some tea with honey? the woman suggested as if Lira had not spoken.

I need a phone, Lira said more insistently.

Or a fruit tonic? the woman replied. Are you hungry? Perhaps something sweet?

Lira was now completely unnerved and she found herself watching the woman from under her eyelashes, wondering why she had not answered her questions. She’d seen enough horror movies to know that this was the part where she was supposed to grab the fireplace poker and hit this creepy stranger who had been staring at her while she slept and was now acting weird. But even as her eyes shifted toward it, her body refused to cooperate, staying still and frozen despite her intentions.

Maybe that was for the best, she thought hopefully. The woman finally looked away long enough for Lira to look around the room. It was a huge room, with floor to ceiling bookcases, pastoral oil paintings and plush, clearly expensive furniture. Beautifully appointed, the room was brightly lit from many windows through which she could hear distant voices outside. At least she hadn’t heard any screaming. That was a plus, she thought. She was studying the fireplace tools when the woman spoke again.

I’m not going to hurt you, my darling girl, she said. You can stop looking for weapons.

This time there was irritation in her voice. Lira felt an irrational spurt of anger at the idea that this woman was annoyed with her. Before she could stop herself, her head shot up, her mouth opened and because she was now officially disturbed by this whole situation, she made no effort to censor herself.

What is going on? Lira demanded. Why haven’t you answered any of my questions? Stop avoiding my questions and answer me!

Uh, oh. That was rude. Really rude.

The woman simply looked at her for one long moment, her face expressionless. For no reason that she could explain, Lira had that pained, nauseous feeling of having done something potentially very dangerous the moment after she had stopped speaking, like taunting a tied dog on a fraying line or taking up chain-saw juggling.

Apologize. Quickly.

I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to be rude. I just want to go home, she said in a small voice, ducking her head in apology as she continued to watch the woman from the corner of her eye.

To her relief, the woman’s face softened at her apology.

Of course, my dear, the woman said kindly. I suspect that you have some questions. Would you like some tea?

Lira felt her eyes bulge briefly at the suggestion after the way this lady had been pushing the drinks. She dropped her eyes and focused on the carpet.

So you can drug me? No, thanks, scary lady, I’ll pass. I’ve seen that movie, you know.

It does not end well.

No, thank you, I’m not particularly thirsty right now, she said quietly, feeling the woman’s eyes settle on her.

Her parched throat screamed that she was a liar and she imagined the dryness of her throat was obvious from her raspy voice, but the woman said nothing. Lira sat there, still and quiet, feeling eyes drift across her from head to toe and back again, trying not to think about why this woman might be looking at her like that. She flinched at the muted brush of clothing as the woman moved to the door, pushing it open and speaking softly before walking back to her desk and settling herself on the edge of it again.

We’ll have tea momentarily, she said, and then we can talk. That will clarify things for you.

Yeah, that sounds encouraging. I think the last horror movie I saw had this same dialogue.

Lira could still feel the woman looking at her, but she kept her eyes glued to the toes of her sneakers, refusing to make eye contact as she waited for something to happen to justify bolting for the door. It seemed as if hours had passed when there was a quiet knock on the door before it was pushed open by an older woman. Her gray hair was up in a bun like someone’s kindly grandmother and she stopped halfway across the room, staring at Lira as though shocked, her eyes huge.

Lira rose from the couch uneasily, not quite certain what that look was about, but finding it just as weird as the rest of this situation. Wondering if she had something on her face, she ducked her head and did her best to discreetly wipe her face with a sleeve. When she looked back up, the older woman was still staring at her, only now her mouth was hanging open.

Oh, My Lady, the older woman said, her face still shocked, her voice high and breathless. You’re here. You’re really here.

She stared at Lira, her eyes still wide as her shock transformed into a delighted smile. The dark-haired woman bustled forward, taking the tray from the elder. While she no longer looked shocked, now she looked curious in a bright-eyed, gossipy way, her eyes flitting up and down Lira as though making notes on what she saw.

Why is she looking at me like that?

While the older lady looked harmless enough, she was far too interested in someone she had just met, in Lira’s opinion. Especially when she was the person in question being observed like a novelty toy. She didn’t particularly like attention and right now, she just wanted to be left alone, so this kind of scrutiny made her very nervous. Lira felt increasingly uneasy and turned to check on the dark-haired woman as she set the tray down. She could feel the hairs on the back of her neck rise as she looked back at the elderly woman, whose eyes were now huge as she shrank away and started to tremble, even as the dark-haired woman ignored her.

I should have taken that fireplace poker when I had the chance.

Just as she was thinking that in growing dread, she heard what sounded like a chorus of far-away wailing, which made her flinch. Suddenly, she felt almost lightheaded with panic as she struggled to control her breathing and her eyes filled with tears despite her best efforts to remain calm. Rubbing her eyes furiously with her sleeve, she railed against herself for crying from sheer stress now, of all times. Suddenly the elderly woman started to sob and wail, her body jerking from the force of her weeping as she collapsed against the dark-haired woman like she had suddenly remembered something so painful that she could not help this reaction.

Oddly enough, it wasn’t scary, but sad. Lira, imagining that this elderly lady might have lost someone and be grieving from her sudden, strange collapse, found her own tears falling even faster, sympathetic crier as she was. Giving Lira a polite smile as if nothing were wrong, the dark-haired woman calmly ushered the weeping woman to the door, smiling and gently pushing her out of the room even as she continued crying. As though that were perfectly normal, the dark-haired woman made sure that she was clear of the door, then closed it before returning to the coffee table. As she came closer, Lira could still hear the elderly woman sobbing through the door.

Tea? the woman asked, her voice betraying nothing but polite curiosity.

Lira stared blankly at the woman, now aware that crying would indeed solve nothing in this situation, based on what she had just witnessed. After one long frozen moment, she wiped her eyes with her sleeve, one at a time. She didn’t think it was a good time to have both eyes closed at once, just in case.

What is this? she finally demanded, her voice becoming louder and shriller with each question. Where am I and who are you? What was that all about?

Let’s sit down and have some tea, the woman replied, her tone cheerful. It’s always nicer to have refreshments with conversation, don’t you think?

No, not in this case.

Remembering all that her father had taught her about paying attention to unspoken signals in people and animals to better understand their motives, Lira watched the woman, purposefully slowing her breathing as she did. Her eyes traced the arc of the tea as it splashed into the cup, measured the sincerity of the woman’s body language as she filled a second cup. The woman appeared relaxed and calm, her hands steady, her expression pleasant.

The woman didn’t act like she was unstable, so either she had no immediate violent urges or she was planning something extreme that she was looking forward to, like preserving her captive’s head in a jar. Lira snorted at the thought and at the noise, the woman twitched. After pouring the tea and placing one of the cups in front of Lira, the woman sat down gracefully on a plush armchair, smoothing her skirts and sipping her own tea.

Why don’t you try the tea, the woman offered when Lira made no move to pick up her cup, her voice soothing. It’s quite good.

Nice try, lady. You must think I’m stupid.

Of course, Lira said brightly, but only if you give me your cup after drinking from it first.

What? If people said that, the movie would end there. No further creepiness. Problem solved.

Duh.

She could feel her face heat as the woman simply looked at her with a slight frown of confusion. But Lira did not look away. She was not drinking anything this woman gave her, so no point in pretending otherwise and wasting tea or time. They stared at each other in silence for a moment before the woman’s mouth dropped open.

Are you accusing me of trying to poison you? she asked, clearly astonished by the idea.

Hello, aren’t you the smart one!

But despite that, the woman continued to stare at her as if shocked by the idea until Lira started to feel a little less panicked and even slightly guilty. If this woman was not some kind of weirdo, then Lira had been unimaginably rude, first contemplating beating her to death with her own fireplace poker, then accusing her of doctoring the tea. Really, unless the woman was a serial killer, Lira had been far too rude and aggressive.

Make nice. Just in case.

Well, accuse is a really strong word, Lira said weakly. I was more announcing it as a sort of possibility rather than a statement of fact.

Her voice trailed off as the woman started to chuckle. While Lira watched, the woman shifted from chuckling to loud laughter. As she started to regain her composure, she met Lira’s eyes and it set her off again, her laughter lovely, rich and pleasant to hear. Lira could feel her sense of bewilderment increasing as the woman finally stopped laughing, shaking her head in obvious amusement. She flashed Lira a wide smile, then drank a healthy swallow from the second cup as well before placing it back in front of Lira. She then turned her attention to her own tea, peering into the depths of her cup with a faint smile still curling around her mouth, occasionally still chuckling.

Right. Not likely the tea is poisoned.

Not sure what else to do, she sat down on the couch across from the woman, sliding her hands around the teacup, warming them as she waited for the woman to speak. She wasn’t going to drink it, just in case, but it did feel good against her palms.

Before you ask any more questions or attack me with my fireplace tools, I want to tell you a story, the woman said, her voice still threaded with amusement. All I ask is that you sit quietly without interrupting and allow me to finish. Noting your current circumstances, I am sure you will find it enlightening.

And then she began to speak.

Chapter Three

"Throughout the ages, the woman began, there have been certain women here who are born with the remarkable gift of channeling energy, most frequently through the elements. A very small percentage of the population, these women are considered national treasures. They are called Conduits and most are characterized into schools by the element they can control: earth, fire, air and water. Through this innate ability, called an affinity, they are able to help many people in their respective nations by creating a beneficial environment for farming, mining, trade and manufacture."

The woman paused for a moment to sip her tea before continuing.

The woman I want to tell you about was a Water Conduit and incredibly powerful. First, you must understand that all Element Conduits are matched with a martial protector, drawn from the most elite members of The Order of The Guardian Knights, our national martial force. The best warriors from the Order are trained as Guardians for the Conduits and are highly skilled in protective and defensive maneuvers. They escort and protect the Conduits as they carry out their duties, ensuring they live long, safe lives and consequently, are well able to serve their countries of birth for decades before retiring. Working so closely, they often form friendships, but this particular Water Conduit did more than just make friends with the Guardian assigned to her.

After a moment of silence, Lira glanced up from her teacup and caught the woman staring at her hands where they rested on the table. She tried not to think about how this woman still had not answered a single question of hers or why that might be. As if she had heard Lira’s thoughts, the woman looked up and continued to speak.

Romances between Guardian and Conduit are forbidden, she said, due to how closely they must work together. However, their affair continued and she became with child, causing them to flee. She gave birth to a female child, also a Conduit. Unfortunately, the birth caught the attention of a rebel group who hoped to use this special child as a weapon against the Council. Upon learning of this threat against them, we sent troops out to rescue them. But despite our best efforts, we were unable to locate them before the rebels did.

The woman paused again, this time taking a sip of her tea before resuming speaking. Lira resisted the urge to ask questions and sat quietly, focusing on the story unfolding and telling herself that her father would be there soon enough.

During our search, the woman said softly, we found the mother’s body less than ten feet from the edge of a river, the entire area around her dry. She had not called the water to save her life, even as she had been standing next to an almost unlimited source. The baby and the Guardian were gone, apparently disappeared as if they had never existed. Troops fanned out across the country with sketches and descriptions of the Guardian, seeking a man with a newborn or even a man alone that matched the description. They found nothing. The Council offered a standing reward to anyone who could offer information regarding the child. Her affinity would not have allowed her to hide unnoticed for long, yet we heard not so much as a whisper.

The woman met Lira’s eyes, her head cocked slightly as if she were waiting for a response. Lira, sensing that this pause was something like bait in the narrative trap from the way the woman was watching her, did nothing. The woman watched her for a moment, her look almost admiring as though Lira had surprised her, then she continued speaking.

I immediately began to research the powers of a Conduit, she said quietly. I needed to understand how she could possibly hide or relocate someone and if that was related to why this particular Conduit had not used her affinity, even when fighting for her life. I needed to know why she had fought with a dagger when she could have summoned the water and escaped. She should not have died from stab wounds, yet she did, something that puzzled me. In the course of my research, I found that Conduits have the ability to transfer their power into an object that can be used as a link, a key that can open a doorway to another place, moving the person to that new place.

Oh, so this is a sci-fi/fantasy story. Good. Much better than a tragedy.

The woman paused for a sip of tea, then continued telling the story as Lira listened avidly.

I discovered that this particular Conduit had made a link, she said, and sent the infant and the Guardian to a protected, hidden location unknown to me. Once I had unraveled the mystery of their disappearance, I knew that I would eventually find the child. The power of that protective link was not infinite because the Conduit had not given her life in making it, but only drained her affinity. Had she sacrificed herself entirely and died in the making of it, as had happened in the only other officially recorded case of affinity transference prior to the child’s disappearance, then I would never have found the child. But since the Conduit had been alive to fight the rebels, I knew that could not be the case, fortunately. So I only needed to wait until the power within it was fully consumed. Once it was, that protective link hiding them would be broken. Then I would find the child.

She stopped speaking and looked at Lira expectantly, once again as if she were waiting for a response. Lira wasn’t sure what the woman wanted her to say, so she remained silent as she looked at her hands. After a moment the woman continued speaking.

I had hoped it would not take long, she said quietly, but I had underestimated her mother’s power significantly, it seems. The years passed, but I did not despair, though I spent many nights worried for the girl’s safety and hoping she was well. It was an unpleasant time, always waiting and worrying, fearful that the rumors still lingering from the time of her birth would inspire many nations to seek her out. If this girl was not what was claimed, if she was just an innocent child, then she could be hurt or even killed when they found her. I had a duty to her to find her, keep her safe and restore whatever birthright she was due, even if it was only her citizenship in the Western Marches.

She grinned at Lira suddenly and then continued.

Imagine my surprise when I located her only to discover that the rumors were indeed true, she said, her tone now cheerful. She is unique in her skills as a Conduit and quite literally beyond value. Her affinity is so exceptionally rare that it can only be compared to a Conduit that lived several hundred years ago, but hers is far more beneficial.

The woman paused again, giving Lira that expectant look. After a long, charged moment of silence, Lira finally realized the woman was waiting for her to ask and would not speak again until she did. So in the interests of moving things along, Lira spoke.

She does the water thing like her mother, then? she asked politely. But with oceans, maybe?

No, her affinity is the most powerful of all and far surpasses that of water, said the woman, smiling as if Lira had said something funny. She is an Emotion Conduit and her affinity influences the more beneficial emotions, the strongest of which is love.

Lira was so surprised that she finally spoke without any prompting, so of course she said the wrong thing, even if she didn’t realize it until a moment too late.

"Love? she asked, her brows rising, unable to stop the sarcastic tone of her voice. For real? That’s her superpower? Love? I mean, come on, what am I, five years old? You’re going to have to reconsider that, I think. I’ll give you some leeway as a reader, but that’s just too goofy as a plot device. Besides, it’s a completely useless, boring skill compared to controlling the elements. You should focus on that for your story instead. That’s at least really fascinating."

You obviously do not understand, the woman said icily, frowning in clear disapproval. An Emotion Conduit can stop wars—or start them. A Conduit like this, whose affinity is for the most positive emotions, can literally infect an area or nation with increased productivity and consequently, profits. The nation favored by such a Conduit will become the most powerful of all, their people happy to labor for the greater good. Her value is easily seen as an asset, a tool for social development and progress. Through her, the populace can be much more easily motivated, controlled and directed.

Oh. Right. I hadn’t thought of it like that.

The woman paused and sipped her tea. After swallowing, she sat quietly, her eyes out of focus and far away. By now, Lira didn’t see the harm in playing along, especially after the woman had just countered her rather snotty criticisms of the story rather aptly, she admitted. Besides, she was actually curious about how the story would end.

So you found her, then? she asked. Or did someone else get to her first? Wait, they won’t kill her, will they? That would be horrible to do to some girl who’s all about love.

She watched as the woman’s eyes refocused and she seemed to see Lira again.

No, you don’t understand, the woman said, shaking her head as though to emphasize the flaws in Lira’s reasoning. She is revered for the feelings she can share with others. Anyone trying to harm her would be incapacitated by her pain and fear. An assassination could kill her with a single blow and no forewarning, but nothing less. And there is no point in that. It would be like butchering a horse so exceptional that she could be a foundation broodmare for some meat to treat your whining hounds. No, her biggest risk is abduction by another nation or group and even then, they would treat her as a most important and valued guest, a living jewel of an order never before seen in our lifetime. She would be safe and treated well, no matter who took her. Though they could use her in ways that could harm others, she herself is simply too valuable to harm.

Lira found herself relieved, oddly enough. Knowing that this nameless literary character was safe, she relaxed her spine and looked at the woman inquiringly, still curious about this story. In response, the woman smiled, sipping her tea before speaking again.

But there is a dark side to such power, as well, she continued. "Not much is known about the ability to manipulate emotions and our only guide comes from history. The only other Emotion Conduit known was unfortunate enough to have an affinity influencing the negative emotions, like pain, grief and fear. Because of that, she did not enjoy the same public appreciation or official level of protection that this Conduit will. As a force of negativity, her value was considerably lower, largely suitable for use as a weapon and little else. Yet her rather short lifespan is known in our history as The Age of Grief for the great discord between nations that she started just by being alive. So do not be so foolish as to discount the power that can come from manipulating the emotions of others."

That’s it? An allegory for don’t manipulate people without understanding the cost?

Did I miss something or is this just a pointless story?

Then she noticed that the woman was looking at her with bright eyes and that expectant expression that she had come to dread. As Lira continued to look at her blankly, the woman smiled, that look of anticipation on her face as if she were waiting for Lira to answer her correctly, even as Lira had no idea of the question, let alone the answer. It was so very reminiscent of her math classes that she found herself uneasy once more, since those never went well, either.

Why is she looking at me like that?

Lira felt the ringing in her ears again, her sore head pounding as she struggled to figure out what this woman was saying, why she was telling a complete stranger this rambling story. As she did, the woman continued to look at her like a teacher waiting on the answer, her brows high and her arms crossed. Lira expected that she might start tapping her toe any minute as the woman’s expression began to shift into irritation, as if she were being difficult. Rather than admit she had no idea why the woman was looking at her like that and possibly offend her yet again, Lira finally blurted out the single question she could formulate and which was far less rude than all the others she was considering.

Why are you telling me this? she asked, making no effort to hide her confusion.

You, my darling, are that girl, the woman replied.

Lira felt absolute shock hit her like a bludgeon.

What did she just say?

Then she realized that it was a joke. It wasn’t as funny as an obscene gesture perhaps, but it was up there. Her, a super-powered love goddess, she thought with a mental shriek of hysterical laughter. Once she thought that and imagined herself with big fairy wings and a wand, flitting about and crashing into things on the way as she adjusted to having wings, she simply couldn’t help her reaction, rude or not. She snorted loudly, then burst out laughing.

Oh, that was so funny. She giggled. Your delivery was so good, I almost believed you. Can you give me wings next time? I want a magic wand and a pretty fairy godmother dress with glittery shoes, too. But I totally want to fly, more than anything. You have to give me wings.

This is no joke, the woman snapped, her voice sharp.

Uh, oh. I made the crazy lady mad. That’s not good.

Lira stopped laughing.

I apologize, she said quietly as the woman glared at her. I didn’t mean to ruin your story by laughing. It was very entertaining.

Don’t be absurd, the woman said, her voice almost hissing in its clear irritation. It is not a fictitious tale. It is the truth. You are the girl I have been searching for and now I have found you.

Crazy Lady has completely lost it.

Lira looked at the woman’s face and realized that she was serious. To her, this was real and because of that, she was going to make this real for Lira, too. Lira felt her jaw drop and hang there for a moment before she shut her mouth with an audible click.

Don’t panic. Start by trying to explain things to her first and see how she reacts.

I think you made a mistake, Lira said calmly. I’m not your girl. I’ve never even had a guy ask me out, let alone throw a trade agreement for me. According to you, people would never be unkind to me because it hurts them just as much. I can assure you that’s not the case, especially not lately. In fact, I don’t have any of the characteristics that you say this girl has, so clearly, I am not her.

Yes, you are, the woman said, a small, smug smile on her face.

Lira frowned at the woman, frustrated with her insistence on believing something so absurd that it forced her into being the bad guy by making the woman face reality. Because really, Lira thought, she had no other choice but to point out that this woman was out of her mind. Anything else was crazy, she told herself, trying not to snort in bitter hilarity as she thought about herself as Lira, bringer of love capable of moving nations. Wow, that misconception could easily be remedied by simply watching her in action, she thought sourly.

I would know if I was special by now. I’m not. That’s just wishful thinking.

She had looked in the mirror a thousand times and the view had never changed. Each time she had been an average, unremarkable girl with a potty mouth and a brain determined to hover in the gutter because it was really funny to hang out there, not some spiritually-advanced love goddess. No way could she make the jokes and gestures she did and be the girl this woman was describing. And nobody ever seemed to care if they hurt her when she was called that new girl or when they snickered at her, so clearly her feelings didn’t affect anyone but her, she realized.

You have the wrong person, Lira said again, slightly louder this time. I’m not her.

Oh, but you are, the woman said with that sly smile. You are the Conduit I have been searching for. Don’t you recall the way that woman acted when she brought the tea? She felt everything you felt and was devastated when she felt how confused you were.

Or she’s as disturbed as you are.

But Lira couldn’t say that, rude as it was, so she tried again to use reason.

That’s hardly proof enough to convince me that I’m this girl you have been looking for, she argued. "Besides, you said this girl’s skill, her affinity as you called it, was for love. That lady was crying. That’s not love."

No, the woman replied calmly, that wasn’t love. All your emotions can be felt by those around you, but with varying degrees of strength and distance based on the emotion. You are untrained and agitated right now, not to mention that your affinity has been blocked for years and will require time to stabilize, I suspect. As such, you currently are leaking emotions like water out of a cracked bucket. I would assume that the negative emotions will not have the power of the more positive ones, but I will know more about impact and reach in time. As I said previously, little is known about Emotion Conduits due to there only having been two of you to date in history. She smiled brightly at Lira. But I suspect that we will learn many fascinating things about your affinity in time.

Yes, well, I need no time at all to know that you are certifiable, lady.

Lira felt like she might start yelling, overwhelmed with frustration in the face of this woman’s obvious delusions on top of how weird this all was. She was starting to wonder if this might be an elaborate setup, with a hidden camera recording her victimization by the rudest, least amusing practical joke ever. The minute she agreed that she was special, they’d leap out, yelling that it was all a joke.

Oh, no. I am not about to allow that.

The very idea infuriated her, because there was no way she going to play along with this, she thought. She’d laughed and been a good sport up to this point, so this woman’s insistence was humiliating, like she wanted something on video. This was like the school cafeteria all over again, only she didn’t need any advice on how to handle this psycho. Imaging herself yet again the victim of a bully, but this time being abused by an adult who should know better, Lira was suddenly furious.

There was a distant muffled crashing and the shouting of indistinct voices, but the woman did not appear to notice. She said nothing, just continued to look at Lira with her eyebrows raised, as if to suggest that she believed that Lira was lying. Or stupid. That really irritated her. She hated it when people assumed she was stupid. She was a lot of things, even a lot of bad things maybe, but she was not stupid.

This is not funny anymore. Not at all.

That’s when Lira decided that she was done being polite.

Stop looking at me like that, she burst out, suddenly wanting to throw her tea in this woman’s face. You don’t know what you’re talking about. Joke fail. Epic fail, lady. My mother died in a car accident and my father was a police officer before I was born, so this is not funny at all. She wasn’t a Conduit and he wasn’t her Guardian. You should be ashamed of yourself because this is just cruel. I might only be a gullible kid, but even I know that.

This is not a joke and I have no desire to be cruel to you, the woman calmly said, her tone apologetic. Your father lied about all of it, including who he and your mother were. He has kept you ignorant of who and what you are for your entire life. I am sorry that I had to be the one to tell you that. It is always painful to be so disappointed by family, so I do understand your frustration.

Shut up. I am done with you, with this joke. With all of it.

I want to go home now and your insanity is not going to stop me.

Now completely overwhelmed in the worst way between fear and fury, Lira felt something burst in her chest like a supernova and the sudden rage she felt was almost overwhelming in its intensity. Over the pounding pulse in her ears, she heard the distant sounds of something smashing outside the room, voices raised and angry though the words were indistinct. Before she even realized that she had moved, she was on her feet in defense of her father.

Shut up! she yelled at the woman. Just shut up because you don’t know anything about me or my parents! And don’t you dare talk about my father like that! He’s not the liar! You are!

Nonsense, the woman said crisply. He has been lying to you for years about himself, your mother and even who you really are. I would say that makes him the liar.

WHAT did you just say about my father?

Infuriated, Lira picked up the cup and hurled it at the woman, hot liquid spraying everywhere as the woman ducked to the side almost impossibly fast before the cup shattered against the wall behind her. Simultaneously, there was a loud bang as something or someone crashed into the door from the other side. Lira jumped as the woman flinched. There were scuffling noises from beyond the door, as if whatever had hit the other side was being dragged off.

I just want to go home now.

She stood there, shaking and feeling like her feet were bolted to the floor because she sincerely did not know what to do now that they had gotten to this point. She had never thrown anything at anyone before, let alone screamed at an adult to shut up. She looked at the woman, who was a little wide-eyed but curiously so, as if Lira were something rare and wild that had gotten into the room through the window and just bitten her. The woman cocked her head to the side and appeared to study her, apparently totally unconcerned, which oddly enough, Lira found somehow calming. She looked back at the woman, feeling completely overwhelmed and unwilling to continue screaming at someone who now looked so reasonable. They continued to study each other in silence for a moment.

Very well, then perhaps we should take a walk to see if I am mistaken and you are not the girl I was looking for, as you claim, the woman said finally, her voice calm and kind.

And then you’ll let me leave? Lira asked.

The woman nodded.

Say it out loud so that it’s clear to both of us, you especially.

I want your word on that, Lira insisted. I want to hear you say it.

The woman looked at her for a moment, clearly taken aback, her eyebrows raised as if Lira had said something inappropriate.

I don’t care if you think I’m rude. Say it anyway or I am going nowhere with you.

As Lira continued to stare at the woman, raising her own brows in imitation, totally determined to out-snotty this woman on attitude if that’s what it took to gain a verbal agreement, the woman finally smiled as though she found Lira’s insistence somehow amusing.

Very well, you have my word, the woman said. If you are not an Emotion Conduit, then I will take you home myself.

Pushing open the door, the woman led her down a wide hall to a grand marble staircase, then down into a huge open foyer with massive wooden doors. There were oil paintings on the walls, plush carpet runners and gorgeous furniture. As her eyes took in the soaring angles of the stone near the ceiling and the size of the foyer she was standing in, Lira realized that she was in some kind of grand estate home, the kind of place that probably had its own name and a history measured in centuries, not decades.

This is not right.

She felt a wave of icy fear sweep up her spine and she reflexively tightened her hand on her thigh, digging her nails through the denim.

I am not where I think I am. This is someplace else. Not home.

Not at all.

The hair all along the back of her neck rose. As her fingers suddenly convulsed with an almost painful intensity, she could feel a nervous sweat break out all over her body simultaneously. She felt something like bile rise in her throat and she swallowed convulsively as her mouth flooded with saliva. She heard what sounded like a loud shriek before it was abruptly cut off. While Lira stood there paralyzed, the woman took her hand, pulling it free from where she had clawed it into her leg.

You have no reason to be afraid, the woman said, her voice soft as she gently patted Lira’s hand. I know that you don’t believe me when I tell you that you are an Emotion Conduit, but you are scaring everyone here when you become anxious. This will be easier if you can calm yourself and focus on your more positive impressions at any given moment.

Lira looked at the woman, not sure how to respond to that statement because right now, nothing felt positive to her. The woman looked kind as she met Lira’s gaze even as Lira’s stomach pitched and rolled. The woman frowned slightly, her hand suddenly coming to her mouth for a moment before she spoke again.

I know that you have no reason to trust me, but I ask that you do, she said gently. You are safe here. I spent years looking for you, terrified that I would not find you in time. I would lay down my life before I let anything happen to you, as would anyone here. You may not believe this, but you are safer here than anywhere else in the world.

Lira found that she could not even respond, focused as she was on the important things.

Breathe.

There. Again. And again.

Good.

After a moment, the woman looked away and cleared her throat. She pulled a small silver bell from her pocket and rang it sharply. Lira heard a door close somewhere nearby and the muffled tread of boots on stone. A slim, sandy-haired man came toward them from the far side of the foyer. Despite the speed at which he moved, he gave the impression of great reluctance, shying away even as he approached. Up close, he did not look well. He had clearly been sick recently as his face was pale and slick with sweat and his eyes rolled like those of a nervous horse.

My Lord High Commissioner, My Lady, he said faintly, bowing with a series of small, nervous twitches that made her think of a puppet. What may I do for you?

Lira, this is Rupert, the woman said.

She knows my name. I never told her my name.

Is this even real? No, it can’t be. Conduits aren’t real.

Rupert is our Master of the House, the woman continued, charged with keeping everything in order. A task at which he succeeds most ably.

As she gestured at Rupert’s bowed and sweaty head, Lira felt a sudden flash of compassion that this poor sick man was standing there when he should be in bed, real or not.

Rupert, she said, her voice kind, it’s an absolute pleasure to meet you.

Rupert’s head snapped up before she had finished speaking and she was surprised to see his cheeks flush with color as he gave her a broad, happy smile, his body language completely changed. He suddenly stood tall and proud in front of her, looking almost like a different man. She blinked.

What just happened?

My Lady, I am most honored to meet you, he said, his voice now smooth and cultured as he dipped his head respectfully. Anything you need, I will procure. Your happiness is my absolute priority.

Now she was confused, but it felt welcome after the crippling fear of moments before. She could feel her shoulders lower and her skin chill as the sweat began to dry. She gave Rupert a small smile and murmured her thanks.

That will be all right now, Rupert. Thank you for coming to meet us, the woman said.

Rupert gave a slight bow, then wheeled away, his footsteps trailing off as he swiftly moved back across the foyer and then disappeared from sight.

I could call the staff here and introduce you formally if you wish or we could go for a short informal walk now and meet a few of them, the woman said, turning once more to Lira and smiling. But you need to promise me that you will focus on thinking positive, pleasant things or we must retire to my study until you feel that you can do so.

Lira turned to face the woman as she thought about what she had been told.

Maybe I’m dreaming while I’m unconscious or something.

That makes sense because this can’t be real.

So I need to find out what kind of dream it is, then control it.

Is it dangerous here? she asked.

Absolutely not. You will feel cherished and welcomed no matter where you go, the woman promised, her voice kind, her expression serene.

Then you should have no objection to me going for a walk by myself, Lira replied, doing her best to look merely curious.

BOO-YA! I am the Dream Master! Bow to me, my minions!

Of course, the woman replied, a polite smile on her face. You are free to go anywhere you wish and speak with anyone you would like. Perhaps you can determine whether or not you are the girl I believe you to be and we can speak about it again. You need only ask someone to bring you to me when you are ready. I am known as the Lord High Commissioner.

Why not the Lady High Commissioner? Lira asked before she thought about it.

It is the title for the role itself, not the individual, the woman said, smiling more warmly. My name is Bridget Weymine, but I am not addressed as such, nor will I be as long as I remain the Lord High Commissioner. Whoever fills the role is the Lord High Commissioner, regardless of gender. She paused for a moment and then met Lira’s eyes. Go explore if you wish, then. But I would caution you to remember that what you feel will be felt by others, so you would do well to remain calm and not to think too deeply on anything other than enjoying yourself.

Lira resisted the urge to roll her eyes, but couldn’t quite keep her mouth shut.

Right, because I am the Exalted One and it might upset them, she said flippantly.

The Lord High Commissioner simply looked at Lira for a moment before speaking.

Imagine if someone you greatly admired treated you with indifference or casual cruelty, she said, her voice measured in a way that made Lira want to cringe. "Because