I wish she opened her mind link to me. I silently beg for her to say something. Come on, Princess. Do something. Fight. I know you have it in you. We talked about this just last night. I look up at the ceiling, repeating those words in my head like a mantra.
“I was wrong about you. I thought I saw a fighter. Instead, all I see is a weakling, a little brat who uses others to get ahead in life. I should have taken you to the orphanage when I had the chance. You don’t belong in the royal family.”
A loud crash booms over our heads, and rain pelts down on the rooftops, like bullets ricocheting off the metal shingles. The wind howls and beats against the windowpane. The dining room lights flicker.
Face red, eyes narrowed, she grits through clenched teeth, “What do you want from me?”
“Act like you want to be here! Act like you deserve to be here! Fight! Show me the girl who ran from the clinic when she woke up from her coma!”
Her breathing becomes labored, and she trembles. Emotions flicker across her face.
My skin prickles—fear, I can practically taste it. She closes her eyes and squeezes her hands into fists. Wind billows her hair softly around her face. I sense her loss of control and her fear that she will hurt someone.
Chris stops me from moving toward her again. “Don’t,” he warns.
“Get out of my sight,” Anders bites. “When you return home, pack your things. You don’t deserve to be a royal.”
The lights flicker again, and streaks of lightning flash just behind the windows, followed by another boom.
Her eyes open. “I can’t answer his question because I don’t have an answer!”
“You don’t have one? Or you won’t give one?”
A single tear rolls down her pale skin, her eyes rimmed with red. “What the hell do you want me to say?!” she screams.
“Anything to save yourself from the orphanage!”
“Then send me to the orphanage. You’re the one who insists on keeping me here on lockdown!”
Anders pushes, but she is so fucking stubborn. Chris holds up his hand, stopping Anders from continuing. “Jessica, just answer the question. There is no wrong answer. Or tell us what you heard in Dr. York’s mind, so we can understand.”
Tears fall more freely now. Tilting her head, she searches the ceiling, as if beseeching some ethereal being for strength. She swallows. “When I first wanted to be in the guard, I wanted to learn how to defend myself, to fight so I wouldn’t have to endure… that torture again. I wanted to protect others fromenduring it as well. I thought I could pave the way for other girls… young women to join the guard. Then, I... I killed Boris.”
A woosh of air leaves Chris. He gawks at her, wide-eyed. For a moment, Anders and Elias look stunned. A barrage of images infiltrate my mind—the same images she showed me in my home. Anders flattens his palms on the table.
Jessica stares at the ground. “I changed my mind. It scared me, knowing I could accidentally kill someone in training. So, I stopped asking.” She closes her eyes.
Elias clears his throat. “You killed him in self-defense. If you hadn’t, you wouldn’t be here right now.” He glances in my direction. “Shadow would be dead right now.”
She shakes her head. “It was an accident. I couldn’t control my magic... But there was still some part of me that wanted to be in the program because I don’t want to go through that again. I can’t sleep because of the nightmares, and now, I have new ones. In every dream, I’m stuck. I can’t fight, and my magic is gone. I scream for help, but no sound exits my mouth. I don’t want to go through that again. I don’t want anyone to either.”
She swipes at the tears. Chris runs a hand over his face, blinking in shock.
“For months, I felt lost, sitting back in that clinic bed, blind and mute. I felt like I was treading water, barely keeping my head up. Everyone else around me has a direction, a purpose, a role, something they can contribute to society, except me.”
She glances up at Anders.
“You say I don’t have fight? You say I’m weak? I sat in that clinic bed for weeks in pain, blind, no voice, imagining my life as an invalid, knowing someone did that to me but not knowing why. You think I want to be a burden on others? I pushed through the pain so I wouldn’t have to rely on anyone. I fought every day to accept my physical deformities, my limitations. I never complained. I never cried about it. I work at the dairy,even though by the end of the day, my body feels like it will fall apart. Even though I don’t deserve it, I train with Emily and Sixes so that, if by some slim chance, I can get into the program, I can hold my own.”
“Then what the hell is your problem? Why are you sabotaging your interview?!” Anders yells.
“Because I don’t have it in me to fight anymore!” she screams back. “I came here full of hope, that finally my life will have meaning, purpose. Then, five minutes before I walk in here, Dr. York was thinking how my hormone levels are at ten percent. Do you have any idea what that means!”
We all just look at her, shocked into silence. The anguish on her face says it all. I close my eyes and silently pray that she somehow misunderstood. That he made some kind of mistake.
“It means that, with or without those injections, I will never transition. I will never be a shifter! All because of the things done to me in my past! A past I can’t even remember.”
I have heard of shifters not transitioning. For a male, it might not mean much, except they can’t transition into their animal. The way the world has changed with more office jobs, city life, most prefer not to shift at all. They can still lead a somewhat normal life. For a female, it’s much more devastating than not being able to just shift into their animal. It means infertility. I understand now why she didn’t want to say anything earlier—because I’m here.
