herself to fake a blush no matter how hard she tried because hardly anything truly embarrassed her anymore, Tsubame poked out her bottom lip in annoyance before collecting the water again and creating a fine mist.
“You may even be able to rival the nigger witch.”
Tsubame paused manipulating the water, eyebrows furrowing in wonder.
“Who?” she asked.
“You wouldn’t have heard of her, but she’s infamous in the magic community; a sorceress who became the heir of one of Europe’s most famous sorcerers. Rumor has it she took to magic quickly, much like you have.”
“So she’s a sorceress?” Tsubame asked. “Then why call her a witch? Didn’t you say there was a difference?”
“There is. But that’s what everyone calls her.”
Tsubame frowned. She was well aware of the differences between a witch and a sorceress. Witches and wizards were hardly more than non-magical people who could limitedly manipulate magic by casting spells and charms with a wand. Sorcerers could do everything a witch and wizard could do and then some without incantations and without a wand. Most of them had staffs or some item to channel their magic through, but a sorcerer’s magic wasn’t just spells and moving items around the room. At its weakest, a sorcerer’s magical talent was the ability to align themselves with a specific type of magic under either yin or yang, and at its strongest it was the ability to manipulate the very fabric of the universe under either sign. To knowingly demean a sorceress by calling her a witch was more than an insult. It was purposefully denying her true potential.
Tsubame was also well aware of the sorceress Fathi was talking about. Not only had her first encounter with a sorceress in this world been with the young girl, but even at her age, having barely even begun to tap into her full potential as a sorceress, Claude Thorne’s heir was famous and every measure was being made to keep her from ever living up to that potential. In a world ruled by sexist and misogynist men who thought the only thing a woman was good for was lying on her back, they would go to any measure to make sure she never became a threat to their power. The fact that she was black only gave the ruling magic powers added incentives.
Before Tsubame could ask any more about the girl, Fathi told her that he would be leaving in a few days and wasn’t sure when he would come back only that he was going to. Tsubame didn’t need his assurances, nor was she surprised he was leaving. She had known eventually Ahmed would send him away. It was part of her plan.
Once Fathi left, all she had to do was wait. Only a day after Fathi left, Saha told her Ahmed requested that she serve him at dinner. She did so clinically, ignoring the way he leered at her and unnecessarily touched her like he touched all the servants he asked to serve him. It was that very evening that she was summoned to bring him tea, and upon hearing it Tsubame was almost disappointed that the man hadn’t made it more challenging.
There was something about someone else finding use or value in something that made a person who hadn’t been interested in it in the first place want it, especially when their friend had it. Ahmed was no different. He hadn’t even glanced twice at her when she was brought to the compound, preferring girls that were barely even teenagers to accompany him and was content to let anyone else have their way with her. Once Fathi began to show interest in her all the other soldiers backed off, but it had the opposite effect on Ahmed. Rather than losing interest in her, the more time she spent with Fathi, especially after it became obvious she was spending most of her nights with him, the more Ahmed’s interest rose. Tsubame had been very aware of the way he now looked at her when she came to serve during the meals, how his hand twitched every time she walked by because he was itching to touch her. There was just something about not being able to
“You may even be able to rival the nigger witch.”
Tsubame paused manipulating the water, eyebrows furrowing in wonder.
“Who?” she asked.
“You wouldn’t have heard of her, but she’s infamous in the magic community; a sorceress who became the heir of one of Europe’s most famous sorcerers. Rumor has it she took to magic quickly, much like you have.”
“So she’s a sorceress?” Tsubame asked. “Then why call her a witch? Didn’t you say there was a difference?”
“There is. But that’s what everyone calls her.”
Tsubame frowned. She was well aware of the differences between a witch and a sorceress. Witches and wizards were hardly more than non-magical people who could limitedly manipulate magic by casting spells and charms with a wand. Sorcerers could do everything a witch and wizard could do and then some without incantations and without a wand. Most of them had staffs or some item to channel their magic through, but a sorcerer’s magic wasn’t just spells and moving items around the room. At its weakest, a sorcerer’s magical talent was the ability to align themselves with a specific type of magic under either yin or yang, and at its strongest it was the ability to manipulate the very fabric of the universe under either sign. To knowingly demean a sorceress by calling her a witch was more than an insult. It was purposefully denying her true potential.
Tsubame was also well aware of the sorceress Fathi was talking about. Not only had her first encounter with a sorceress in this world been with the young girl, but even at her age, having barely even begun to tap into her full potential as a sorceress, Claude Thorne’s heir was famous and every measure was being made to keep her from ever living up to that potential. In a world ruled by sexist and misogynist men who thought the only thing a woman was good for was lying on her back, they would go to any measure to make sure she never became a threat to their power. The fact that she was black only gave the ruling magic powers added incentives.
Before Tsubame could ask any more about the girl, Fathi told her that he would be leaving in a few days and wasn’t sure when he would come back only that he was going to. Tsubame didn’t need his assurances, nor was she surprised he was leaving. She had known eventually Ahmed would send him away. It was part of her plan.
Once Fathi left, all she had to do was wait. Only a day after Fathi left, Saha told her Ahmed requested that she serve him at dinner. She did so clinically, ignoring the way he leered at her and unnecessarily touched her like he touched all the servants he asked to serve him. It was that very evening that she was summoned to bring him tea, and upon hearing it Tsubame was almost disappointed that the man hadn’t made it more challenging.
There was something about someone else finding use or value in something that made a person who hadn’t been interested in it in the first place want it, especially when their friend had it. Ahmed was no different. He hadn’t even glanced twice at her when she was brought to the compound, preferring girls that were barely even teenagers to accompany him and was content to let anyone else have their way with her. Once Fathi began to show interest in her all the other soldiers backed off, but it had the opposite effect on Ahmed. Rather than losing interest in her, the more time she spent with Fathi, especially after it became obvious she was spending most of her nights with him, the more Ahmed’s interest rose. Tsubame had been very aware of the way he now looked at her when she came to serve during the meals, how his hand twitched every time she walked by because he was itching to touch her. There was just something about not being able to
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