CHAPTER 5

When the carriage pulled back up to the manor, Manny was surprised to see people about as she, Ebra, and Vincent got out. The carriage driver, Adrian, met with a rabbit beastkin woman and started to discuss how the horses were doing. A young orcish man quickly rushed out to clean the carriage’s interior with a bucket of steaming water.

The city stretched out to the west, faintly glowing with the uniform orange light of lanterns and braziers in the streets, save for a few buildings Manny knew to be the temples spread across the city, each of them glowing a specific color, as if to make sure the gods above could recognize them at a glance.

“Sean,” Vincent called out as he walked into the manor with Manny and Ebra in tow.

Only a few seconds passed before a young man emerged from the manor’s kitchen. He was dressed in a neat, black, double-breasted suit, an outfit that screamed butler to Manny’s eye, and stood with his hands folded behind his back. “My lord,” the young man happily said, as he took in Vincent, and then Ebra and herself. “I see the madam is up and about.”

Vincent looked back at Manny and smiled, fondly. Manny caught herself already returning the smile before she’d even registered it. “So she is,” he said, then returned his attention to Sean. “Please run the baths, Sean. We crossed the whole city today, and I fear we need it.”

“Of course, my lord,” Sean said, then beckoned Ebra to follow him down the narrow stairs into the basement. As they disappeared, Manny distinctly heard the words Florian, and terrible.

“Shala, break my bones,” Manny softly cursed. “How many people work for you?”

“Fifteen, or so,” Vincent noted, as he started down the hallways towards their bedrooms. “And my stock is about the same size.”

“How the hell do you afford it?” Manny asked.

“Well, when you’ve lived as long as I have, you’re bound to make a few successful investments sooner or later,” Vincent said, then pointed at Manny’s room. “Go get undressed,” he ordered.

“Undressed?” Manny repeated.

“Yes, undressed. You stink, Manny,” Vincent said. His words and tone implied it was a practical concern, but Manny could feel the unspoken part of it in his thoughts. He wanted to see her naked, and bathing was just an excuse. She considered defying him, resisting and saying no. But she knew that wouldn’t work. She’d just displease him, and give him what he wanted anyways.

“Yes, Master,” she softly said. At least this way she’d spare herself the pain of trying to fight him.

Manny sat on her fancy bed, naked save the golden shackle around her ankle, and the sheet she’d wrapped herself up in. She was waiting for… something. For Vincent to demand something of her, she supposed.

Looking at herself, she couldn’t help but notice that her left shin was bruised from where the metal had been pressed into it by the boot she’d worn all day. She cursed under her breath. Was this what her life would be from now on?

Ask him for help. He’s your master. He loves you,” the treasonous part of her mind came, and Manny grimaced. Not because she hated that part of her mind, but because it was beginning to make more and more sense every time it spoke, and she didn’t think it was because it was getting more reasonable.

Because… He did love her. She could feel it every time he looked at her, and was reminded of it every time he showed her compassion. He’d given her clothes, food, and protection, and the only thing she had to repay him with was herself.

She rose from the bed and cautiously approached the door that separated their rooms. She could sense him just beyond, his mind calm, and hard to read beyond a vague undertone of hunger and anticipation. When she knocked on it, though, a slight spike of excitement joined how he felt, and made her own heart beat a little faster.

She waited for a moment, for spoken permission to come in, or just feel it in his mind. Instead, the door suddenly opened.

He stood before her, naked. He was more muscular than she’d expected, with dark chest and pubic hair contrasting against his pale skin. He had narrow hips and muscular legs, and… gods, those eyes. She took in a sharp breath, a surge of attraction she’d not expected, and wasn’t sure she wanted.

“You look like you need something, Little Elf,” he purred, his voice raspy and appealing.

Manny swallowed, and nodded. She… She did need something from him. “I…” She started. “The… The band on my leg. It’s… It’s bruising me.”

“Oh? Why don’t you let me take a look, then?” He asked. The excitement to see her naked was still strong in his mind, like a gentler version of his need to dominate her that had scared her so.

He gestured towards his bed, and Manny obediently sat down on it. He sat down to her left a moment later, then pointed at his lap. Manny offered him her foot, laying it across his bare lap, and he looked at it for a moment. He moved the metal a bit as he scrutinized the bruise, and she winced when that irritated it.

“I could put it on the other foot, if you’d like,” he offered.

“Can’t you just take it off?” Asked Manny. The question amused him.

“I’m not going to do that,” he said, stern despite the smile on his face. “Not until I’m sure it’s not necessary anymore.”

“But–” Manny started, but she was silenced with a look, and an undercurrent of disapproval. “N–nevermind,” she said, knowing he wanted it to stay on. “It’s fine where it is.”

Manny’s chest swelled with his radiated sense of sheer approval. Yet another thing she’d wanted, washed away in the current of his overwhelming influence on her. “Come along,” he said, suddenly rising from his bed, and walking towards the door that led out into the hallways. “The baths should be ready by now.”

“You’re not going to put on a robe, or something?” Manny asked. She felt a surge of second-hand embarrassment at just the thought of him strutting past his army of staff in the nude.

“I seem to recall you last had my robe, Manny,” Vincent reminded her. Manny looked through the doorway that connected their rooms, and sure enough, it was still where she’d left it, crumpled on the carpeted floor.

Manny quickly got up to get it, much to Vincent’s amusement. She ran into her room, picked it up, and turned around to see Vincent had already left, off towards his basement baths.

“Wait up,” yelped Manny as she ran after him, the robe clutched to her chest with one hand, and the other helping the sheet she’d donned stay on and somewhat closed. She could feel the smile on his face at her running after him like this.

“Cursed man,” she grumbled.

The basement bathroom was like a completely different place from when she’d seen it the day before. The air was warm and wet, every surface slick with condensation, and lanterns and lamps were lit, casting the whole space in a pleasant, orange-ish glow. She couldn’t help but to marvel at the size of the room. Although…

Manny had spent a lot of time in the bowels of the university, and she couldn't help but realize the basement was quite a lot smaller than the manor above it. Where was the rest of it? Surely he had boilers of his own somewhere, to heat these baths.

Ebra sat in the largest bath, arms spread along the rim, head thrown back as if she’d passed out from the stream billowing from the water. The woman was obviously naked, and rather shapely. She had bigger breasts than Manny herself, despite being so much shorter. Manny could feel a surge of arousal, anticipation, and thirst from Vincent at the mere sight of her.

“You look appetizing as always, Ebra,” he purred as he stepped towards and then into the bath.

“And you look very happy to see me,” Ebra quipped as she rose from the raised rim of the bath, and stepped into his embrace. The two kissed for a long time, standing in the thigh-height water, and Manny felt like an idiot for standing there and watching it, vicariously feeling Vincent’s joy at the moment. “The madam seems… hesitant, though.”

Vincent turned towards Manny, heedless if not outright proud of his engorged cock, and extended a hand in invitation. “Join us, Little Elf,” he said.

Manny didn’t want to. She so very much did not want to get into a big steaming hot bath with them, to be seen naked by them, to watch him sink his fangs into her neck, and presumably do more than that to this woman. She did not want to, she desperately lied to herself

But she could feel he wanted her to, so she did it anyway. She reluctantly put the robe down on a bench that was lined with towels, and then, after a deep breath, put the sheet she had wrapped around herself down alongside it.

Manny felt a dominant thrill from the man as she did so. He was so very content every time she did what he wanted, and this was no exception. A wave of pleasure and approval washed across her, banishing her reluctance and replacing it with that need for more.

She approached the bath, every step closer pleasing him more, and sating that need in equal amounts. When she stepped into the bath itself, the hot water made her stop for a few moments, until she adjusted to it. Vincent eyed her with undisguised desire. His eyes swept across her body, taking in every detail, and… and she realized she didn’t mind it.

In fact, Manny rather liked it when Vincent looked at her like that. He was so attractive, so handsome, so awe inspiring. And… and she wanted to kiss him. She stepped closer, wading through the water.

Don’t look into his eyes like that, you’ll get enchanted again, the part of her mind she and Vincent were working to overthrow whispered. What did it know? She had a Master that loved her, wanted to have her, and the longer she spent with him, the better she understood that giving him whatever he wanted was the right thing to do.

Once she was close enough, he reached out and grabbed her, one hand in her hair, the other behind her neck, and gently pulled her into a kiss. She eagerly leaned into it, one hand to his chest, the other on his shoulder. It made him so, so happy. Who was she to disobey this man, to defy him, to try to fight him on anything, ever again?

As the kiss lingered, that thirst made itself known to Manny again. She… she wanted to help him sate it. All day, she’d felt it as a hunger, even mistaken it for her own. She’d prevented him from taking Zorah, and… and a part of her wanted to offer her own neck to him to make up for it.

The defiant part, however, did not. And this time, Manny listened to it. She would see Vincent’s needs fulfilled, but… But maybe it had a point that she shouldn’t feed herself to him to make that happen, when such an eager young woman was watching them kiss, waiting for her next turn.

“Sit down,” Vincent ordered, and Manny quickly obeyed, sitting down in the massive bath. The water came up to her shoulders, and she watched as Vincent settled down nearby, and patted his lap under the water.

Ebra obeyed the wordless order, and settled into his lap, straddling him as she pressed her lips to his for another kiss.

“Are you ready?” Vincent asked, and Manny found herself nodding before she realized he was obviously talking to Ebra.

“Yes, my lord,” Ebra whispered, before she tilted her head to the side, smiling at Manny. Vincent didn’t hesitate, quickly leaning forward, and biting her neck. The woman let out a delighted gasp, and Manny felt a rush of relief radiate from Vincent.

Blood started to trickle out from the seal Vincent’s lips made on her neck, running down his chin and her torso. It dripped into the bath water, staining the area around them ever so faintly pink.

Ebra started to giggle as he drank, rolling her hips softly as her eyes glazed over, and her jaw slackened. She seemed so, so content, and Manny could feel Vincent was, too. She watched with a smile on her face as her Master had his fill, savoring the blood Ebra was willingly offering him, but also enjoying the thrill of having someone so vulnerable to his whims.

He was intimately aware that Ebra was in no shape to defend herself against anything he might choose to do to her, and he loved that feeling. It made Manny happy to see him so fulfilled, to vicariously enjoy it with him, to get to see such an intimate act between vampire and prey.

It was sex, it was companionship, and it was nourishment. It fulfilled so many of his needs in one go, invigorating his mind and body alike, and Manny could only imagine how fantastic it would feel to let him feed on her. She started to massage herself between her legs at the mere thought of submitting to him like this.

“How do you feel?” She asked Ebra, after a while.

“G–greath…” slurred the woman, who seemed to be looking a little paler, despite her dark complexion. “Iss…” She trailed off into a fit of giggles. Manny could tell by the definition of Vincent’s muscles that the man was actively holding Ebra up, and she suspected the woman would simply slump into the water without him.

Manny was… jealous. She could feel that hunger finally satisfied, and… and she felt inadequate that this woman had to volunteer for this to sate her Master. She’d interrupted him when he had real real prey to feed on, when she should have been helping him.

She wanted him to drop Ebra and take her, instead. She wanted him to be rough, she wanted to feel his fangs in her arteries, and his cock inside of her, every part of her making him feel good.

She played with herself as she watched him drink as much as he wanted from the hapless woman as he penetrated her. The image mixed with her fantasies to just make her feel so… so excited, so ready, so turned on and ready to go. And when he climaxed inside of her with a grunt, Manny gasped from the sheer joy of it, losing track of her thoughts, and… and…

And then he started to calm down. He withdrew his fangs from Ebra’s neck, and blood squirted out of the wounds and onto his chest as he whispered a healing spell. That seemed to take away just a sliver of the vigor he’d taken from the now-unconscious woman, and Manny was… was confused.

She’d not gotten off yet, her own body was practically screaming at her to keep going, but… as Vincent’s mind moved away from thoughts of sex and feeding, and he started to focus on taking care of Ebra, she lost interest in continuing.

He wordlessly rose from the bath, lifting Ebra in a bridal carry. She started to shiver as soon as she was out of the water, and he stepped towards one of the two smaller, free-standing baths, and placed the woman into it.

“That was hardly the violent act you pictured, was it?” He asked Manny with a soft smile.

She shook her head. “No…” She began. “That was… That was lovely.”

“I’m glad you see it that way, Little Elf,” he said, then stepped towards the other of the two person-sized bathtubs. “You might want to join me,” he told her.

“What’s wrong with this water?” Manny asked.

“Well, it’s stained pink with blood, for one,” Vincent said, gesturing to the bath. When Manny looked down, she couldn’t really see it, but she did know a fair bit of blood and… other fluids had been spilled in it, so she rose from the bath, and joined Vincent.

It was cramped in the second tub, and water poured over the rim by the bucketful as they both settled down into it. She’d initially tried to settle into the tub facing him, but the gentlest nudge by his disappointment made her reconsider.

She settled against him, her back to his chest that was gently rising and falling to the rhythm of his breathing. It made him happy to have her so close, like she was leaning against a rock made of joy itself.

He really wasn’t so bad, she decided. She’d been wasted as a cleaner at the University, earning a handful of coppers per day sweeping up puke and ash for people that had all refused to teach her to read when asked.

Vincent saw more in her. He thought she was worthy of an education, that she could be truly useful, with some guidance. Not that she’d ever needed that guidance before, but… she could admit it was pleasant enough. She–

He poured hot water onto her head, cutting off her thoughts with the sudden jolt. Her curls matted to her head with the sheer weight of it, and before she could comment, he started to massage her scalp.

“I… Are you…” Manny began, uncertainly, as soapy foam started to stream down her face. “Are you washing my hair?”

“I’ve always had a soft spot for grooming my thralls,” Vincent deadpanned.

Manny laughed at the absurdly blunt confession, twisted into a pun, and when she felt his satisfaction that she’d laughed at his joke, that came together with the humor and ridiculousness of her situation to form a sense of affection for the man.

She rolled over, sloshing more water out of the bath as she laid down on him so she could see his face. He gave her a quizzical look for a moment, then tangled his hands in her hair again, and kept washing it.

He really was handsome, with his angular face and dark hair, stubble staining his cheeks and jaw like a shadow. She reached up and stroked it gently, feeling the grain of his beard. “May I have a razor?” She quietly asked.

Vincent raised an eyebrow at her. “Are you offering to shave me, Little Elf?”

Manny nodded. “You’re washing my hair. It… it only seems fair.”

He shook his head, despite the fact that he gave off a surge of approval, which confused Manny. “No thank you, Manny. But I’m very glad you offered,” Vincent said.

“Oh,” Manny whispered as she thought about it. If he wanted to wash her hair, and he didn’t want her to do anything in the meantime, she supposed that left her with very few options. So, after a while, she simply laid her head on his chest, and closed her eyes, basking in his contentment and waiting for him to let her know what she should do.

Vincent smiled as his elf drifted off to sleep for the second time that day, naked and in his embrace. The girl had had such a trying day, full of defiance and fury, and yet here she was all the same, tamed and subdued.

In the grand scheme of things, she was bending to his will remarkably quickly. Even now, that mind of hers would be racing to rewrite itself. It would be trying to figure out how to avoid earning his ire and whispering to her how lovely it would be to marinate in his approval, instead.

And she was quickly getting there. Those big, orange eyes of hers had held something very close to a thrall’s Adoration when she’d offered to shave him, and it had only been a few days.

He rinsed out her hair as he thought, idly playing with it. He hadn’t missed the look on her face, hadn’t failed to notice the desire and envy as he buried his fangs into Ebra’s neck. She’d called him master, and had done so spontaneously at that.

Her lapse in judgment when she pushed him notwithstanding, she might be even better suited to thralldom than he’d dared to dream.

It did concern him that she slept so much, though. Elves, by all accounts, did not need to sleep for more than a few hours per day, and some did not even need to sleep at all. Yet here his elf laid, numb to the entire world, except for him.

He supposed it was probably just the after-effects of the healing spell Alara had cast on her, after that monster beat her like that, still sapping her strength. And… perhaps she’d just never learned to get by on less, surrounded by human orphans all her life. He made a mental note to send one of his staff to check the First University for a treatise about the topic; perhaps he could be the one to teach her.

And… it occurred to him that he’d planned on punishing her for pushing him earlier. He had been planning on making her sleep on the floor for a night, to make sure she’d never forget where such brazen defiance would get her. But he supposed the moment for that had passed, and that she’d looked wretched enough, already.

He whispered “cadal,” instead. It was a simple spell; meant for putting someone to sleep, but would work just as well to keep Manny from waking up when he yelled, “Sean!”

A few moments passed before the eager young man appeared at the bottom of the stairs leading out of the basement. “Yes, my lord?” He asked.

“Please take Ebra to one of the guest rooms,” Vincent said, as he righted himself in the bathtub. Manny instinctively held onto him, much to his delight, which made it a lot easier to finish bathing them both.

“And the madam?” Sean asked.

“I’ll take her to bed myself,” Vincent decided.

Manny woke up the next day feeling better than she had the previous days with Vincent. She had a sense of optimistic hopelessness about her that felt rather pleasant, in a strange way. A contentment about not seeing a way out of her situation. She could feel Vincent was waiting for her, and she knew there wasn’t any point in anything but going along with it.

So, she rose from the bed, wrapped herself up in the robe he’d given her, and went to find him.

The day passed rather quickly. It went from breakfast, to the next reading lesson, to lunch without her struggling against his grip on her, and occasionally exceeding his expectations for a surge of that delicious approval. They sat close to each other at every opportunity; close enough to feel his warmth against her skin, close enough that they occasionally brushed against each other while moving about.

She didn’t kiss him again during that first half of the day. There was never a spark to light that fire, never a nudge to set that ball rolling. His mind wasn’t on that kind of intimacy, but on the matter of teaching her what she needed to know. And as in the bath, she found it hard to focus on anything but what he was occupied with.

And right now, at their shared lunch, nothing in particular seemed to occupy his mind, and as such, her own mind wandered, aimlessly. One of the manor’s staff, presumably a cook, had served them a rich vegetable soup with little noodles in it, and Manny idly played with them with her spoon, vaguely considering whether Zorah would still be worried about her.

When she heard the manor’s front door open, though, she felt a surge of anticipation from Vincent she couldn’t explain. “Are you expecting someone?” The question displeased him ever so slightly, until she sheepishly added “Master” to the end of the sentence. She’d not even intended to omit it, certainly not as a slight..

“Not so much someone as something, Little Elf,” Vincent said, watching the door leading into the dining room keenly, just before Sean appeared in it. He had his hands behind his back as he had the first time Manny had seen the man, and a sly smile on his face.

“I take it you were successful?” Vincent asked.

Sean nodded and stepped forward, placing a green book on the table. It was a little dusty and worn, but still looked expensive despite that. The title was four words long, written in swirling, hard-to-read letters of shiny silver, and Manny squinted at them.

“A…” She started, reading the first letter of the first word. “Al… Al… Aldree–”

“Aldressa,” Vincent corrected, approval surging in him.

“Aldressa,” Manny repeated, then moved on to the next word. “El–Elves… and… ba– bee… Beastkin?” Manny cocked her head, then repeated the title. “Aldressa, Elves, and Beastkin?”

“Excellent,” Vincent said, a great smile on his face. Pride radiated from him, everything about him telling Manny she’d done good. “You’re picking that up so damned quickly, it’s amazing.”

Manny beamed at the praise. “I have a good teacher,” she said, which earned her a fond ruffle of her hair. “But… what’s the book for?”

“Why, for you, of course,” Vincent said.

“I don’t understand,” Manny confessed.

“Oh, you will,” Vincent said, before he turned to Sean, and changed the topic. “How is Ebra recovering?”

“She was awake and reading when I last saw her, my lord,” Sean began. “But that was some hours ago. Should I go check again?”

“Please do,” Vincent said, as he returned to his soup, and indicated that Manny should do the same.

They finished their meal relatively quickly after that, and Vincent rose from the table with the new book in hand, making for his library. Manny followed him, and they were just getting settled on the sofa there when the back of her mind decided it was time to cook up unpleasant thoughts for her to wallow in.

Weakling, the part of her that wanted her to defy Vincent, called her. Four days with him, and you’re already giving up. You’re already at his beck and call, his obedient little puppy, desperate for his approval and praise.

But… what else was she going to do, if not try to earn his approval? Anything less resulted in her feeling miserable. She could only hurt him in ways that were so subtle he didn’t notice them, and she didn’t see any point in that. She couldn’t cheat at this, couldn’t game this, couldn’t get by on technicalities.

And… why should she? She was happy when Vincent was happy. Not just not unhappy, not just content, but truly happy. When she thought about that, her pride tried to tell her she was wrong to be happy, but…

She looked at Vincent, at his eyes focused on the first pages of the book, at his sharp jaw, at his red eyes.

How could being happy possibly be wrong? How could it possibly be better to be miserable? Who was she impressing by putting up a fight? She… She didn’t want to fight him anymore. He was nice, he was attractive, he was charming, and he was funny. It wasn’t so strange that a woman might find herself coming around to someone like that, was it?

Strange would be to draw this out, to keep kicking him, when she was the only one that got bruised from that. He didn’t own her, she wasn’t a pet or a thing, despite how he might feel. That stubborn part of her said, you’re his prisoner, though. His victim, but that didn’t quite ring true to her.

She… she couldn’t leave, but she didn’t want to, either. She wanted to stay here, to sleep in his beautiful house, to eat his delicious food, and to wear his fine clothes, all while he taught her to read and write, and paid attention to her.

In fact, she wanted him to pay attention to her right now, not to that book about elves and beastkin. So, she carefully reached over, and took the book from his hands, paying attention to how he reacted. He didn’t resist, though she could feel he was modestly displeased that she’d done that, fixing her with a curious expression.

She cautiously put the book down beside her, then crawled closer, and straddled his lap, looking down into those blood red eyes of his. She wasn’t afraid of his power to hypnotize people with a look anymore, and she wanted to show that.

“A part of me hates you,” she began, and surprisingly, that didn’t upset him. “That part of me thinks I’m weak, that I’ve given up, that I should fight you, that I should do… something. But I don’t like that part of me very much, anymore.”

“Which part of yourself do you like, then?”

“The part that’s given in,” Manny whispered, as she leaned closer, and put her forehead to his. “The part that’s happy when you look at me, that whispers how I can make you happy, too. The part that’s telling me to do this.”

She pressed her lips to his, and felt a surge of approval from him. She remembered the first time they’d kissed, remembered tasting his blood in that kiss, and an idea occurred to her. When the kiss broke, she bit down on her lip as hard as she dared, hard enough to draw blood, then immediately kissed him again.

She felt a surge of excitement from him a moment later, a dominant thrill, a pang of that thirst and arousal, all from tasting that blood. She giggled in triumph. “You’re a manipulative little elf,” he growled, without a trace of hate. “Why did you do that?”

“To make you like me,” Manny said. “To tell you I like you. To…” She trailed off, and blinked, losing her train of thought. Those eyes of his… she… She’d just been thinking something about them, hadn’t she? “I…” She tried, but she couldn’t get the words together.

“You need to let me read,” Vincent gently told her.

“Y–yeah…” Manny agreed. “Let you… Let you read.”

“Why don’t you sit… let’s say right here, until I’m done?” Vincent asked, pointing at a spot on the floor, just by his side.

Manny obediently slipped off of his lap, and sat where he’d indicated. It was just by his feet, and she leaned against his legs with her head in his lap, thoughtlessly staring into the fireplace as she listened to him turn the pages for hours on end.

“Alright,” Vincent said, snapping Manny out of her reverie by slapping the book closed. Her eyes and throat were dry, and as she turned to look up at him, she realized she was sore all over from slouching like that.

“Huh?” She managed to ask, as she blinked and cleared her throat. “How long have I been sitting here?” She added as she looked up, to see the sun no longer shone in through the windows.

“About five hours,” Vincent told her with a grin, before he patted the seat next to him.

“Why did you let me sit there for so long?” Asked Manny as she rose, and returned to her seat. It sure hadn’t felt like five hours, but she could feel he wasn’t lying, and all of the evidence supported what he was saying, to boot. She rolled her neck and shoulders a few times. “And why did you do that thing with your eyes? Did you not like what I did?”

“Of course I liked it,” Vincent said, grabbing Manny to pull her into a kiss to underscore his point. It left her with a stunned smile on her face. “But you were distracting me, and this is important.”

“Will you please tell me what it actually is?”

“Well, it’s about elves,” Vincent began. Manny frowned at him. She already knew that; she’d read the gods-damned title with very little help. “And specifically about why they don’t need to sleep.”

Manny snorted. “I’m pretty sure we do,” she said.

“Some elves do need to sleep, yes. But some don’t, and those that do still not nearly as much as you like to.”

Manny cocked her head at him. “You’re serious, aren’t you?” She asked.

“You know I am,” Vincent said, as he opened the book, and pointed at a page of dense, jargon-looking text. “It’s theorized that elves learned to get by with very little sleep because Aldressa is so dangerous compared to most of the rest of the world. With the right training, you should even be able to get all of the rest you need from meditation. Hells, the author of this even thinks elves tend to have such brightly colored hair to ward off predators.”

“Sounds awful,” Manny mused, as she took one of her locks of orange hair into her hand, and looked at it. If you’re supposed to ward off predators, I think you failed.

“And yet, you’re going to learn to do it,” Vincent told her, and no amount of wishful thinking on Manny’s part could let her convince herself he was joking. He looked forward to it, but Manny’s heart sank a little, all the same.

“You’re… you’re not going to let me sleep, anymore?”

“Certainly not as much as you’d like to,” Vincent said. “But don’t look so upset, Little Elf. This is good news.” Manny crossed her arms, and raised an eyebrow; a simple gesture to tell him she was not convinced. He answered it by gently taking Manny’s chin in his hand, and guiding her gaze to meet his. “After all, think how useful you’ll be to me – how happy you’ll make me – by using that time productively.”

Manny felt something she’d never felt from him before. Expectation. He expected her to live up to the standards he envisioned, and it was a mix of anticipation, faith, and certainty. And she wanted to deserve that faith. “Will you help me?” She asked.

That pleased him more than Manny had expected. “You want my help?”

Manny nodded, and scooted closer, making herself a little smaller, because she knew he liked that. “Please?” She asked, with a slight smile on her face. “Please teach me.”

He grinned. It was a smug expression that perfectly matched how bizarrely triumphant he felt. “Please teach you what?”

Manny swallowed. “Please teach me how to sleep like elves are supposed to, and how to be more useful, Master,” Manny whispered, almost begging. The surge of approval she felt sent a shiver through her body, and her eyes rolled back in sheer delight. She… she loved that feeling.

“I will, soon,” he promised. His intonation made it sound like a concession, but she could feel it was anything but that. This was exactly what he wanted, and… and it was what she wanted, too.

Zorah stood before the monastery, and swallowed. Outside of bringing Manny here after she found her in that alley, she’d spent the last ten years avoiding this place at all costs. She did not want to go back inside.

It was already dark out, though she could hear the children of the orphanage playing in the courtyard at the center of the monastery, and the golden yellow light of Shala’s power shone from windows and the bell tower, telling the whole world not to mistake this for anything other than a monastery of the Lady of Mercy.

The front doors, though, were closed. Typical, really. From a distance this looked like one of the most inviting buildings in the city, except for maybe the temples of Ishara or Brawna. But on closer inspection, you’d see you’d better still need something, and not just want it, if you expected them to provide it.

She suspected whatever in all the hells that nonsense with Manny in the library had been about would qualify, though. She stepped up, and knocked on the front door.

A few seconds passed, before a young man with a round, golden amulet shaped like Shala’s sigil around his neck appeared in the door. He squinted at her and cocked his head, and Zorah found herself doing the same. “Were you in the orphanage with me?” He asked.

Zorah nodded. “I think so, yeah,” she said. He was young enough that he’d have only been a boy when she and Manny left. “I’m actually here to see Abbess De La Cornon about that. Is she available?”

“You’re here to see the abbess about being an orphan fifteen years ago?” The young priest asked.

“Ten!” Zorah corrected. “And no, not that. Did you see an elf in your infirmary about a week ago? Orange hair, tall as tall can be?”

The young priest nodded. “I recognized her, too.”

“Well, I’m here because I think she’s in trouble, and I don’t know who to ask except De La Cornon.”

He considered that for a moment, then beckoned her inside, and started to lead her somewhere. The inside of the monastery looked a lot like Shala’s Embrace, which was to be expected, she supposed, and reeked of incense. But it was nicer, somehow. The hard wooden floors were waxed to a shine, the dyes used in the tapestries on the walls a little less faded.

They went up a set of stairs, past a series of paintings that depicted Shala and her angels’ sigils as features in landscapes or arrangements of mundane items in still lifes, and eventually to an office.

The door was open, and let Zorah clearly see the abbess sitting at a desk, eyes closed in thought, yet the young priest knocked anyways. She looked up and smiled at the priest. “Jordan,” she began, softly. “Do you need something?”

“Yes, abbess,” he said, then gestured to Zorah that she should speak.

“Abbess De La Cornon,” she began. “I’m here about Manny.”

“I see,” De La Cornon said, as she rose from behind her desk, and beckoned her close. “Thank you, Jordan.”

The young man nodded at the dismissal, then turned and walked away as Zorah approached the old abbess. “What has Magnanimity gotten herself into this time?” The abbess asked, as she sat down on a padded chair by a tea set, and gestured for Zorah to do the same.

Zorah sat down, and spoke as De La Cornon started to serve tea with the set, rattling the porcelain a bit with every motion. “She went missing the first day she went back to work. And I found her after a few days, but… something was off about her.”

“Off?” The abbess asked without looking away from what she was doing.

“It was… weird,” Zorah began, as she tried to find a way to put it into words. “She had this guy with her, this really handsome guy who said his name was Vincent, and she said she’d found a job with him, that he was taking care of her. And it just felt wrong, y’know? It was… It was like if a robber had taken a banker hostage, but instead of using code words to call for help, the banker used them to tell everyone that could help her to go home.”

“I don’t quite follow, Zorah,” the older woman said.

Zorah sighed. She supposed that had been a fairly labored metaphor. “She just seemed so… distraught. Like she was trying to get rid of me.”

“Oh, I’ve been in a situation like that,” said the abbess as she poured a cup of tea for each of them. Zorah took hers gratefully, and sipped it. It tasted exactly how she remembered it. “My little brother, Jacob. He was a brilliant boy, and I utterly adored him from the moment he was born. He stuck to me like glue, and when I left for Shala’s seminary, he swore up and down that he’d do the same, and I believed him.”

“But he didn’t do the same?” Zorah guessed.

“He surely did not. When he was… oh, eighteen, nineteen or so? He just disappeared for a few weeks. I was worried sick, I was sure something bad had happened. Until one day, he showed up, and wanted to introduce me to a woman named Vathara.”

“Elf?” Zorah guessed, hearing the traditional elven syllables in the name.

De La Cornon nodded. “That’s not important, though. What was important was that that foolish boy was absolutely smitten. He was convinced she was a sign from the gods. That he wasn’t meant to be a priest of Shala, that he was meant to become a priest of Ishara, instead. Being his big sister, I, of course, thought that was laughable. I thought this woman was a bad influence – that she was leading him astray, that she was grooming him, and that this Ishara business was folly. I told him all of that, and I told him, Jacob, you’re a lovestruck idiot. And you know what?”

“What?” Asked Zorah.

“I was wrong, Zorah,” De La Cornon said, before she took another sip. “I wanted my little brother to be just like me, like he said he’d be. But that would have been a terrible waste. He thrived in service to the Lady of Passion, more so than even I have thrived in service to Shala. I called him a lovestruck idiot then, and now I call him pontifex. You should have more faith in young Magnanimity. You left the orphanage so you could protect her after we all failed her so very badly, but I don’t think you need to do that anymore.”

“But–”

“But nothing, Zorah,” the old priestess interrupted. “Manny isn’t a helpless child anymore. While she was recovering here, I realized she’s far cleverer than I ever would have given her credit for. Perhaps she’s making a mistake with this Vincent fellow, perhaps not. But I doubt you’d have come to me instead of going to the guards if you thought she was truly in danger with him.”

“Well, I asked a priestess of Ishara for help, first,” Zorah confessed. “Turns out she knows the guy.”

De La Cornon clapped her hands together. “Well, there you have it! No priestess of Ishara would ever drop the matter if she had any cause to suspect something bad was afoot. Not while my brother guides her church.”

Zorah considered that. She supposed the abbess probably had a point. If Alara didn’t see anything wrong with it, and even vouched for the man, that would be enough for most people, and should probably be enough for her, as well. Manny wasn’t the child she’d once been, anymore. She was an adult, trying new things. This job, whatever it was, might well be part of it.

She just hoped Manny wouldn’t forget about her in favor of this new master.