Page 58 of Morfran, Dark Lord Reformed

As he turned to leave, a pair of arms suddenly wrapped around his chest from behind. It was Bronwen, her head buried into his back.

“Thank you,” she said, or at least he thought she said. His tunic muffled her voice. She lifted her mouth so her words were clearer. “Thank you. I don’t— What I want to say— That is— The thing is— You are—”

He half laughed, facing forward. “Stop trying so hard to thank me, Bronwen. You are still hexed.”

She went quiet but didn’t release him, and he didn’t move away, either. It felt good to be hugged. She was warm and soft, and he found his sadness at losing his sword waning the longer the embrace went on.

She sniffed.

“Do I stink?” he asked, suddenly self-conscious.

“No,” she hastily replied. “The opposite, actually. Your soap smells like…Never mind.”

He smiled. “I have battle maps to go over and plans to configure if we’re to take Warshire. I’ll see you later today.” He didn’t tell her that he’d decided just now that he’d help the rebels take over the tri-city instead of ditching them at the front lines. He also didn’t tell her that she was so soft that he didn’t want her to let go.

She did, however. Shooting him one last smile, this one accompanied by red cheeks, she left out the doors, stumbling the entire way.

21

The Wretched Reflection

That night, after spending all day prepping battle ideas and helping train new recruits, Morfran entered his tavern room feeling like he did after a strenuous training exercise: achy, exhausted, and spent. All in a good way, however. There was something satisfying about draining oneself, pouring thoughts and actions into plans that might be worth it down the road. It was what Morfran had enjoyed most about battle—the sense of accomplishment at the end of the day.

He unbuckled his sword straps (he’d purchased a generic one from the smithy, though it didn’t feel right in his grip), set aside his gear, and began washing his face with a basin of water below a mirror.

And froze.

Because in the reflection of the mirror was Ravana.

He didn’t startle, as he thought he might should she make an unexpected and unwelcome appearance. He didn’t see double, as he feared he might after all that had happened between them. He just turned and looked her over, confirming that he was actually seeing her and wasn’t just hallucinating from exhaustion.

But no—she was there. Lying on his bed, dressed in a slim velvet dress the color of amethysts, her head propped up by her palm. He didn’t fail to notice she wore his favorite dress of hers, nor the fact that it looked as though she’d applied an extra coat of lipstick before he’d entered.

He exhaled, saying nothing. A simple “hello” didn’t seem like it’d suffice in such a tense situation.

She didn’t seem in a hurry to speak, either, instead appearing to take great satisfaction in leisurely running her eyes up and down him.

Then she burst into laughter. “I never thought I’d see the day when you’d don commoner clothing just to sneak away from me.” She raised her finger and twirled it. “Turn for me, my love. Let me see the full effect.”

He didn’t turn. He was still in shock, his mind going a thousand places at once. If she was here, that meant her guard was likely here. They would have the city surrounded. They might already have taken some of the others hostage. Brim. Bronwen. Grandfather Tortoise and Drezella.

That was when he saw the slight rippling sheen of light across her skin as she lowered her finger. On closer inspection, that sheen was over her entire body. He loosened his breath, relaxing ever so slightly. “You’re not really here. You’re projecting your spirit.”

“Mm-hmm. And I’ve seen your mind has gotten slower since I last saw you…How long has it been? Eleven months? Almost an entire year.” She clicked her tongue. “That’s quite the dry spell for you, dearest.” She sat up, scooting towards the end of the bed. She left no wrinkles on the blankets. “But then again, you’ve kept yourself very busy these days. General Bernard.”

He swallowed. “You’ve been tracking me. How?”

She snorted. “You’re such an egotist, always thinking about yourself. How I’ve missed that about you. You were always far too concerned with your image rather than your kingdom. We were made for each other, you and I.”

Morfran thought of Rapunzo, how she was prophesied to fall in love with him, and how he’d come along and ruined it. “We weren’t made for each other,” he said. “I just made you into myself.”

She frowned, studying him with those beautiful eyes that he’d always believed were all the more beautiful because they’d always been on him. “I did receive the divorce papers, Morfran. I know you don’t love me anymore. Was it the foot thing? Don’t tell me it was the foot thing.”

He huffed. “No. It wasn’t. It was all of it. There is a precise art to being a dark ruler that you must master and find the balance of, because dark unfortunately shares a border with evil. You’ve hopped that border and never looked back.”

“And?”

“You spat in our allies’ faces for pleasure, Ravana,” he replied. “You’d set rabies-infected badgers loose in hospitals full of our recovering war veterans.”