He draws me toward the table where there’s a cup and a small knife. None of them look at me.
I’m not sure what to expect, but Morgan hands me the blade.
‘Cut your palm. Put the blood into the cup.’
I do as he directs, slicing my flesh and watching as the blood swells from it. I drip it into the cup and see each of the males do the same. Jak then fills it with wine, stirring it well with a spoon. It’s handed to me first and I grimace, not because of the blood, but because I still dislike wine. I drink it though, and then the others take their turn.
And then nothing else happens.
‘Isthat all?’ I ask incredulously.
‘Aye,’ Locke answers. ‘The ritual itself is simple.’
I stare down at my hand at the small cut that's already beginning to heal. Such a silly little mark that has changed the course of my entire life, for I am now bound to two and half fae, and half an orc. Our lives are intertwined by magick now.
I wonder if perhaps I will be taken into one of their beds for the claiming part now, but Morgan just leads me back to the chair by the hearth and asks me if I’m hungry.
They don’t finish the ritual and I don’t know what to think. It’s incomplete. Why aren’t they doing the rest?
I watch as Morgan slices bread and cheese for the midday meal at the table. He brings a small plate to me and we eat.Afterward, Locke goes upstairs in silence with Jak, maybe to look at more books.
Perhaps the claiming is a hardship to them. We aren’t in the Dark anymore, after all. I’ve already seen how girls here stare at Jak and Locke, and even Morgan in the street when they think no one’s looking. Maybe with so many other options, they don't want me likethat.
But Dane said it was important, that it needed to be done.
Maybe they hope Voss will have me locked away in the Underhill so that I’m no more bother to them. They didn’t know they’d have to share their home with me, the rest of their lives, when they brought me here. Locke may want his chamber returned, and the annoying human gone.
I purse my lips as I sit alone by the hearth. I thought I would be dreading the claiming, that I would feel it looming over me if it wasn’t done, but instead there’s a pervading sense of disappointment and confusion that annoys me when I think about it.
I don’t want them! I shouldn’t trust them. They don’t truly want me.
I say it over and over like a mantra to hold back these odd feelings that are beginning to lead me astray. I should have one goal. One purpose. One future in mind.
Earn my place here. Make my life here. Perhaps meet a decent man and have a family here.
There should be no room for these males who brought me here, and yet, in some jest by Fate, I cannot escape them.
‘Bryn?’
I look up at Jak.
‘I wondered if you’d like to come back to the healer’s rooms with me.’
‘But you’ve already given me the salve,’ I say with a frown.
He laughs lightly. ‘Not to be healed, to learn the healing arts. Properly. As a novice.’
A healer? A real healer? Me?
I realize I’m just staring at him, and he looks a bit uncertain when I don’t answer.
‘Only if you want to,’ he adds.
I stand, nodding hard. Perhaps this is how I can prove myself to the village. ‘Yes. Yes, please.’
He takes me to the apothecary without delay and I find myself at a table in front of piles of herbs, wondering how I’m here in this room learning a trade when not three days ago I was in the pits fighting to stay alive.
I scowlin irritation as I stare down at the table of salves and creams in front of me, lost in my thoughts.
