I swear I can see her walls being built back up right now at those reminders.
"Miss Wynn," Kelrin interjects smoothly, "your contract includes standard household terms. Room, board, appropriate clothing, and a monthly stipend of fifteen lummi. Quite generous for a human servant, actually."
Fifteen lummi. Pocket change. Less than I spend on research materials in a week.
And Keira has been living here for months, caring for Amisra, letting me touch her, kiss her, believing—what? That she had a choice? That any of this was real?
"The contract is transferable," Kelrin continues, oblivious to the devastation spreading through the room. "Should you wish to sell it, Healer Morthen, I can arrange for interested buyers. Human nannies with her level of experience typically fetch?—"
"Stop." I can barely force the word out. "Just stop talking."
He blinks, clearly taken aback by the venom in my tone. "I'm simply explaining your options?—"
"I don't want options. I want—" What? What do I want? For this to not be happening? For Daryn to still be alive so I can demand answers? For Keira to look at me the way she did this morning instead of like I'm something vile?
"If there's nothing else," I manage, "I'll review the documents later. Please leave them on the desk."
Kelrin's mouth tightens—he clearly has more to discuss—but something in my expression must convince him not to push. He places the parchment on the desk, offers another shallow bow, and leaves.
The silence he leaves behind is suffocating.
Keira stands there, arms wrapped around herself, staring at nothing. Or maybe staring at everything differently now. At the house that's become my house. At the room where her owner died and passed her along like furniture.
At me.
"Keira—"
"All this time." Her voice is barely audible. "You knew, didn't you? About the will. About Daryn leaving everything to you."
"He told me he wanted me to take care of Amisra. To keep the house running. I didn't—I didn't think about the details. Didn't ask?—"
"Didn't ask if you'd be owning me." She laughs, but it's a broken sound. "Why would you? I'm just another asset. Another piece of property to maintain."
"You know that's not true. You know I don't see you that way."
"Do I?" Finally she looks at me, and the betrayal in her eyes is a knife between my ribs. "Because from where I'm standing, it seems like I've been set to be your property since we met."
"I didn't know!"
"But you do now." She takes a step back. Then another. Putting distance between us that feels vast and unbridgeable. "And now every time you touch me, we'll both know. We'll both remember that you are my owner, and I am nothing. Like it was always meant to be."
She stares at me with a broken expression. Like I'm the monster she always feared dark elves to be.
Maybe I am.
"Keira, please." I reach for her and she flinches away. The rejection shatters something vital in my chest. "Please, just listen?—"
"I need to check on Amisra."
"She's sleeping?—"
"I need to check on her." Steel in her voice now. Cold and unyielding. "Because that's my job, isn't it? That's what I wasboughtto do."
She walks past me, spine rigid, and I let her go because I don't know what else to do. Don't know how to fix this when everything feels broken beyond repair.
The door closes behind her with a soft click that sounds like a death knell.
I stand alone in the study where my best friend died, surrounded by the possessions he left me—house and money and a child who flinches from my touch and a woman who now looks at me like I own her.
