Page 99 of Emma & Edmund

Emma held back a bristle at her host's response, knowing she could be thrown back into the elements at any moment. "If it's not too much trouble, I would like some privacy."

"There is no privacy here, Bride of the Son of Molek."

It was a clunky sentiment, but one that still made Emma burn with pleasure. That was why she was here, after all, to fight for her place as Edmund's bride.

"Well, can you at least not peek?" Emma made her way to the darkest corner, near the pile of books, hoping for at least an imitation of privacy.

"What's there to peek at, skinny bones?"

Knowing she could easily counter such a juvenile insult, Emma bit her lip against the oncoming words. Focusing on the task at hand, she quickly stripped off her destroyed dress, the maroon no longer even visible, throwing the borrowed dress over her head.

In no time at all, she had scrubbed away as much of the dirt as she could, redressed, and sat on the sofa opposite the fire.

Despite the uncomfortable atmosphere, her seat was at least soft, and the chill was being melted off her bones.

"Here." Annie shoved a bowl into her hands. The lean goopy soup was a far cry from the hearty stew she had been treated to the night before, but it was edible.

For a long while, the two strangers sat on opposite ends of the sofa, eating in silence. The only noise that came was the sound of the dying storm and the crackling of firewood, occasionally broken by the slurping of tasteless soup.

A glint of something against the flame caught Emma's eye, drawing it to above the bare, dusty mantel. From a gnarled nail in the brick, the same odd décor from the inn hung. The triangle shape, the long bottom tassel, all of it the same, outside of red beads in place of yellow.

She had never seen such a thing before, so seeing two twice in such a brief time struck her.

"What is that?" Emma asked, pointing to the object.

She fully expected Annie to ignore her, to pretend she had said nothing at all. What she didn't expect was for Annie to place aside her meal, clasp her hands together, and stare reverently at the twigs and string.

"It's his mark."

"Whose?"

"Lord Molek's."

Emma about groaned out loud, setting aside her bowl, her appetite suddenly dissipating. She kicked herself for asking. Annie wasn’t surprising, but did that whole inn worship that awful being?

Looking at Emma out of the corner of her eye, Annie's eyes narrowed.

"You are blessed to even see his face, idiot. Don't you dare turn your nose up at his name."

"Blessed?" She had done the best she could, but Emma could not hold on to her retorts any longer. "I have been cursed by him since the moment he popped up - at the worst possible moment, mind you."

Annie scoffed, crossing her hands over her sallow chest, leaning back into the cushion.

"There are women all over this country who would kill to be his travel mate, and you're here crying about it."

"Of course, I would be!" Emma fumed, turning her whole body to face Annie despite the woman's refusal to look at her. "I want to be traveling with the man I love, not some creature that - "

"The man you love?" Annie cut her off, staring off into the fire. "That wouldn't be the one you asked about the witches for, would it?"

Emma's back steeled, eyes narrowing.

"They are one and the same."

"The same as the son of Molek you mentioned?"

Her teeth grit together, hardly allowing her to respond, "Yes. The same you abandoned in the pub.”

Annie let the words stew between them for a moment.