‘Usually, the sorts of jobs that require a strong back,’ he rumbles with a chuckle.
‘But aren’t they all afraid of you?’
He leans back into the chair, resting his head on the back and letting it fall to the side to look at me. ‘Some are.’ He gives me a small smile. ‘Most are, but I hope that by being here more and helping, they’ll realize that I’m an asset, not some Dark Realm beast to be feared.’
‘Do you think that…that they’ll feel the same about me? If I can learn some skill, I mean?’ I ask uncertainly.
His hand rises toward me and, after a moment’s hesitation, I put my hand in his. He looks surprised that it was so easy as we sit side by side. Like the weapon cleaning, it’s quiet and calm. Easy. It’s what I’d imagined having a home was like, I suppose.
But all too soon, I find my eyes beginning to droop after such a long day, and I gaze longingly at the chamber where I’m to sleep, wondering when he will say that it’s time to retire.
'If you wish to sleep, Bryn,' Morgan says low as he notices where I’m looking. 'You need not say a word. Simply go to bed.'
My lip curls upward just a little bit. I was thinking like a slave again, I realize.
'Thank you,' I say. 'I think I shall.'
I go into my chamber, well,Locke's chamber, closing the door behind me and making sure the casement is secure. I take off the dress that Locke gave me this morning. It seems like such a long time ago now.
I stand in front of the looking glass and peer at my thin, wan body. I don’t look much different now than I did this morning. Perhaps a little more color is in my cheeks, though. I probe my ribs, and the other areas where Voss hurt me, but they merely ache a bit now. The healing potion was a potent one.
I hope I see Lia again soon, so that I can ask her why she helped me and why she kept it a secret, but I’m not sure if I will. There's clearly a lot of underlying politics that I don't quite understand yet. It was the same in The Barrack, though. There are always games like this to play, I suspect, no matter who youare, or where you are. It shouldn't take me too long to learn how to play the ones here, or to avoid them all together.
Whatever Lia’s role as a council advisor entails, it seems to take up much of her time though. Likely so does the family I heard tell of.
Three mates!
But, I frown at myself in the looking glass, isn’t that the number I will have after this ritual and the subsequent…claiming?
Will they do it all at once or will they…my mind supplies unhelpful memories of Jak and Morgan filling me at the inn all those weeks ago, of Locke in Merediea when he fucked me in his room before conjuring my memories away. If I don’t think about that last bit… I shift, my body heating oddly and I wonder if another of these odd attacks is upon me again. But it doesn’t get worse, it’s more of an underlying ache, a longing.
I sink into the mattress, getting under the covers this time and trying not to think of that place between my legs that wishes Morgan or even Jak would come into my room tonight to give me some relief.
My body betrays me!
Turning to the side with a huff, I berate my weak and pathetic state. How could I be thinking such a thing after what they did?
But it was mostly Locke, my traitorous mind argues. Weren’t Jak and Morgan treated the same as I was by the cunty mage?
I didn’t know what he was going to do. I couldn’t have stopped him just as I couldn’t get out from under the conjure he used once it was done. So, why should I expect more from Jak and Morgan?
And, unlike me, they realized something was wrong and were able to find a way to get their memories back as well as travel to Merediea.
I close my eyes, letting all these thoughts fall away from my tired mind. I can think more on it all in the morning.
The bed is more comfortable than I'm used to. I focus on the way it feels. A small part of me would still prefer a nice warm hearth, but the mattress beneath me is well-stuffed and firm enough that it doesn't overly bother me, and I find myself easily drifting towards slumber.
'Buh for Bryn.’
‘That's right, that's very good.'
I smile, glad that I've made him proud. There's a warmth unfurling inside of me as I look up at the white-robed man with the light brown beard and hair that’s curling a little at the nape of his neck.
I can hear a waterfall, but I can't see anything past the immediate vicinity. I think we're in a room, and I'm sitting in a comfortable chair that’s low to the ground, with a short-legged table in front of me. There's a quill in my hand. I've got drops of ink on the parchment.
But he doesn’t mind that I’ve ruined it.
He sits across from me.
