'Shall we move on to Ruh?' he asks.
He points at a word that’s written on the top of the parchment. ‘That’s your name, little one. Buh, Ruh, Yuh, and Nuh. Do you see how the letters mean sounds?'
I nod, saying something to him that makes him chuckle, and I realize that this man feels familial. He feels like close kin… like an uncle or a father. I care about him, and, when he pats my head and smiles into my eyes, he seems to care about me as well.
But then the dream changes and the light room disappears. I’m in a darkened corridor. I look down at myself. I'm me, no longer a child.
I look behind. I’m in the passage between worlds. There's a portal open at my back, and I can see the one in front of me as well.
I start to walk, but as I do, I come upon a figure. He's very slow and he’s limping. And where there were white robes, now there are soiled, gray ones, with holes and rips.
I reach out to touch his shoulder, but when he turns and opens his mouth, all I hear are screams.
LOCKE
I wake early,and when I come downstairs, Bryn is already in the kitchen. She's looking through cupboards.
I frown as I notice she's wearing the clothes she came here in, the ones that I procured for her when we were traversing the Dark Realms, when I gave her one of the illusion medallions to pretend that she was a fae. I don't like being reminded of it, I find, of the ways that I enticed her to put her trust in me before the pits.
She doesn't see me at first, so I watch her at my leisure. She seems relaxed despite everything that happened yesterday at the fucking Village Hall, more than happy that she's been allowed to stay here despite the price they’re making her pay.
After I already made her pay several times over.
My jaw tightens as I think of Calder, Voss, and Tavish. If anyone shouldn’t have the power in Halsford, it would be thosethree. Voss and Calder care only for the fae in the Underhill. Tavish cares only for coin.
I hear Bryn gasp, and I bring our little human back into my focus. She's turned and seen me staring at her again.
She frowns at me, her eyes darting to the food on the top of the food cupboard in front of her and then back at me, her expression guilty.
'Morgan said that I could—' she begins defensively, eyes wide.
Scared.
Fuck, I hate that she fears me. There were but two days or so in our journey that she didn’t and I constantly think of them.
I put my hands up to soothe her.
'Of course,’ I say in the calmest voice I can muster because it seems to work well for Morgan. ‘Our house is your house, Bryn.'
She gives me a narrow-eyed look, clearly wondering if I’m trying to trick her, but then she goes back to her task, which looks like an omelet.
‘There’s tarragon in the second jar,’ I say.
She glances back and her brow furrows.
‘You’re using mushrooms. They’ll taste better with the tarragon.’
She takes hold of the jar, pulling the cork out and smelling it.
‘This is for toothache,’ she remarks.
My brows rise in surprise. Jakhasgiven me it once or twice for that ailment. ‘Aye, I believe it is, but it’s also delicious in a mushroom omelet.’
She takes a pinch and adds it to her meal. I try not to overtly stare at her. I should turn away, not loom or linger, but I like watching her. She ignores me now as she puts the pan on the iron rack over the fire and begins to brown the mushrooms.
I glance into my room, the one she’s now sleeping in and I see the dress she wore yesterday draped over the chair in the corner.
'It's yours, you know,’ I say to her back. ‘The dress. You need not ask to wear it.'
