I’m in the Light Realm!
I sit up abruptly, excitement flowing through me, scarcely able to believe that it’s true. I’m really here! I thought for certain that it was just another trick yesterday. But Locke actually brought me to the Light.
When he sees that I’m awake, he gives me a slow perusal out of the corner of his eye that makes mine narrow a fraction.
What does he want from me, some thanks for finally fulfilling his part of the deal?
Fuck him!
‘How are you?’ he asks.
I don’t say anything at first. How am I? I don’t know.
My eyes begin to swim at the question and I look away for a moment. I don’t want him to see how much I’m feeling.
But I’m actually in the Light Realm. I’m not a slave any longer!
I let out a hard breath that I can’t help.
‘I can’t believe I’m truly here,’ I say, deciding not to hide my disbelief.
His lips press into a line and I frown a little.
It’s been one night. Does he regret bringing the dirty Dark Realm slave with him already?
As he turns toward me, I see his face fully for the first time.
I gasp at the bruises and swelling. He was looking better yesterday after we came here. This must have been done after I went to bed last night, and he hasn’t had a healing potion.
‘They beat you again?’ I can’t help but ask, wishing I didn’t sound as if I cared.
After all, he deserves it.
‘Aye,’ he answers readily, his lips turning upward. ‘But, not to worry, Jak will give me another healing potion later this morning.’
‘I’m not worried,’ I say, looking away from him. ‘Just wondered who to thank.’
He lets out a reluctant chuckle as he puts some clothes on the bed. ‘Well, you’ll see Morgan soon, so you can. Get dressed. I’ll be waiting for you. We need to talk.’
I watch him as he leaves, closing the door softly to give me some privacy.
I get up and find water for washing in the ewer and then I put on the dress that he’s left for me, draping the clothes I slept in on the chair. The gown is dark green with silver trim, and made of thick, quality linen. I’ve never worn something so fine, definitely never seen any human wearing clothes like this.
I stare at myself in the looking glass, in awe of the finery at first, but then I frown at my reflection.
Why is he dressing me up?
I open the door to find him sitting at the table, eating breakfast. My stomach rumbles loudly. I remember going tobed last night before I could eat the dinner that Morgan had prepared.
He looks up at me, watches me in silence, surveying me and the clothes.
I sink down across from him without being asked and I tear a chunk of bread from the boule in front of me before regarding him with open suspicion. Everything I do is the opposite of what my behaviors would be if I was a slave. I make sure I don’t look at the floor once.
It’s more difficult to do than I thought it would be. I have to think about my every action, but it feels good.
‘Why?’ I ask, gesturing at the dress he’s provided.
‘That’s what we need to talk about,’ he replies cryptically.
