Cleon crossed his arms and said nothing. The man was nothing if not stubborn.
“Yes, the Sorceress-Queen is powerful,” Fergus said. “In the end, though, the only power a Psionic can wield over you is that which you choose to give. Some people do it – either out of surrender, or in exchange for something else. Mind control is not an all or nothing thing. There are degrees of control, from subtle suggestion to outright possession.”
Lucian frowned. “What about Morgana back in Kiro? The Queen was able to control her very directly, so does that mean she gave up control?”
Apparently, both Fergus and Cleon had been apprised of that, but it was Fergus who answered. “Morgana must have allowed it on some level, even if it was in a dream. Perhaps the Sorceress-Queen promised something that made her give up control. Everyone has mental weak spots, and the Queen is adept at exploiting that.”
Lucian wondered what his weak spots were. Had the Queen identified them? Was she chipping away at them already?
“Such a thing seems unimaginable,” Cleon said. “Who would just give up control of themselves, and why?”
“You should know that better than anyone,” Fergus said. “It is the price of power in her empire. All her Mage-Lords are branded in some form or fashion. I could sense it with Mage-Lord Kiani, and several others we passed in the palace. It’s her way of maintaining ultimate control.”
“So, you’re saying Mage-Lord Kiani is mind-controlled?” Lucian asked.
Fergus shook his head. “That’s not how possession brands work. She can do that, but not to an entire aristocracy of Mage-Lords. What she can do is create long-lasting brands with intricate streams – as many as five to ensure they last a long time. Those brands work to keep tabs on people she’s interested in – how they’re feeling, their physical state, where they are. It’s what allows her to keep her power; she doesn’t give power unless a person consents to be branded. Of course, every brand takes up some of her ethereal real estate. But that’s the Queen’s gift. She can stream so efficiently that she can hold dozens of brands on multiple people with almost no effect on her active streams.”
Lucian shuddered, remembering how some of the things she’d said made sense. Did they truly make sense, or was she simply influencing his thoughts, despite her own admission that she wasn’t? “Are you sure she didn’t brand me?”
Fergus shook his head. “You would know if she did. You would . . . feel her presence in the back of your mind, as it were. It’s likely that if she did want to brand you, she would do it with multiple streams that lasted a long time. The streaming of a brand like that would take a lot of effort, but once done, maintaining it would take little effort. It should be noted, branding someone Psionically is not always a bad thing. Friends can use it to keep tabs on each other, for example, and anyone you’ve Psionically linked with already can be spoken to again, although of course distance, stream power, and strength of relationship are all factors.”
“Strength of relationship?” Cleon asked.
“Basically, how well you know the person. It would be easier to communicate with a spouse across a few kilometers than someone you’ve met once just down the street, for example.”
“I see,” Lucian said. “I’d say good to know, but it just makes me feel sick that she could do it at any time.”
“I admit it’s possible you’re branded, Lucian, in a way too clever for me to detect. But you don’t seem possessed to me.”
“Thanks for the vote of confidence.”
More splashing emanated from the bathroom, along with the sound of water being drained. A moment later, Serah cracked the door, wearing a white bathrobe.
She cleared her throat. “Can one of you gentlemen scrounge up some clothes for me?”
Lucian got up and searched through the wardrobes of the bedroom until he found something that might be her size – a silvery, shimmering dress with a long skirt with frilly patterns. Embarrassed, he also grabbed what appeared to be undergarments, wrapping them in the dress so that they would remain hidden. He avoided the red ones – Serah might get the wrong idea, or worse, roast him mercilessly. He opted for some more innocuous beige ones, the least skimpy pair he could find.
He went to the bathroom and handed the clothing off. “Just grabbed the first thing I found.”
She arched an eyebrow. “Interesting qualifier there.” She looked at the bundle with a smirk, and then at him. “Something with sleeves?”
His cheeks colored with embarrassment. “Let me see what I can find.”
“Thanks.”
He returned with another dress, this one green, which had long sleeves. He brought it back to Serah.
“Thanks. Will you let me know how I look after?”
“Um, sure.”
She closed the door, and Lucian returned to the couch, bewildered.
“She has her eye on you, Casanova,” Cleon said.
“Whatever. That’s just Serah being Serah.”
“Well, she doesn’t talk to me like that, and I have a way with the ladyfolk.”
Lucian would have countered that, but he didn’t see the point.
“You’re a fool if you don’t see it, is all I’m saying,” Cleon said.
“Speaking of fools,” Serah said, suddenly emerging from the bathroom in her dress, “didn’t I hear someone talking about Lucian being possessed by the Queen earlier?”
Lucian’s eyes popped at the transformation. Even if her hair was wet, she wore the dress so well, as if she had been born to it. Her cheeks reddened under their collective gaze.
“Stop staring,” she said. “Haven’t you boys ever seen a woman before?”
Those words broke them out of their collective trance.
“Wow,” Cleon said. “I almost thought you were a different person, there.”
“Shut your rotten mouth.”
Cleon chuckled. “That’s not very ladylike.”
Cleon was lifted into the air about a meter, surrounded with an aura of gray magic.
“Hey! Cut that out.”
Serah smirked. “Sure thing.”
He dropped down onto
