The keeper feels the pain of my dreams and he once explained to me that they can keep him awake.
“Your nightmares were worse last night,” he says.
I suppose I hoped they might not be. I try to shake off the dream of a home that never existed and a mother who is somehow always out of my reach.
“I’m sorry,” I say, but he wraps his hand around my shoulder.
“Don’t apologize for your pain. You have a right to feel it.”
The intensity of his anger surprises me.
“I don’t have the right to hurt you with it.” I lean in to him, conscious of my nakedness and the warmth of his body. Even fully-clothed, his heat is a comfort. “I would rather put my pain to good use than waste it on nightmares.”
HowI’m going to put my pain to use is the question, and I don’t have an answer for that yet.
Pushing myself up on to my tiptoes, I plant a little kiss on the edge of his jaw.
Then I step out of his hold and into the very large dressing room at the side of the front room.
Three walls are lined with shelves containing what appear to be items of folded clothing. Every item is white or black.
To the left is the bathroom the keeper mentioned. After using it and returning the cup to the little shelf in the small kitchen, I return to rifle through the shelves of clothing.
I discover that it’s mostly tunics and long pants, all made from a light material. Soft to touch. And in all sizes, with the smaller items on the bottom shelves and the largest items at the top.
I choose a black tunic and hold it up to my frame, testing its size. Too big. The one on the next shelf down seems perfect.
“Why are there so many different sizes here?”
“This building was some sort of training hall,” he says. “The clothing was for the students.”
I purse my lips. “What kind of training?”
“Combat.”
Well, that makes sense. “What kind of students?”
He shrugs. “Dark creatures.”
I scowl at his evasive answer, but I let it go. “There’s no underwear here.”
“Over on this side.” He heads to a shelf on the other side of the room that holds a row of baskets. “I investigated the options while you were sleeping.”
After tipping a basket toward me so I can see inside it, he pulls out what looks like a bra, although it’s a little less structured than the ones I’ve seen before.
“What about this?” he asks.
“Okay, yes.” I take it, find that it’s too big, and test another, which is perfect.
The next basket contains a style of underpants that extend down to the tops of my thighs and then a little farther. They’re a far cry from the stringy pieces of material that were in the witch’s apartment.
I return to the shelves containing tunics and pants, adjusting my blindfold, which got a little out of place when I pulled on the bra. “Do you think I’ll ever get used to the light?”
“I wish I could help with that.” The keeper holds up his hand to wave dark light through the air before closing his fist and snuffing it out. “But it would require making your eyes less sensitive to light.”
“Yes,” I say wryly. “That would be the point.”
“Which could have unwanted side effects in dark situations,” he continues. “As it currently stands, your eyesight is extremely powerful. I don’t think it’s a good idea to take that away.”
