Page 5 of Dark Elf's Good Girl

It’s Lorien.

Lorien is the dark elf who raised me while my parents were running around after Calix.

She is one of the kindest and most frank dark elves I have ever met, and I thank the Thirteen every day that she was chosen to take care of me.

Lorien, who is close to a hundred years of age, is carrying a tray with my evening tea on it.

I wasn’t planning on eating, but at the sight of the tea and food on the tray, my stomach rumbles.

“Hello dear boy,” she smooths a hand over the top of my head – she has been greeting me like that since I was a child – before she pours some tea.

“How was the meeting?”

I relax as she sits down on the other side of the table.

I sip some of the hot rirzed tea which she makes for me every night and tell her about my day.

“Well,” she says when I pause. “It sounds like you’re doing well. Now eat those sandwiches. I cured that dripir myself.”

The sandwiches are made of freshly baked bread, with slices of cured, roasted dripir meat on them, along with slices of fried burgona that lay atop the dripir meat.

The sandwiches are decadent and salty and fatty and heavy, and they are exactly what I need.

I do not eat like this every night. But Lorien has a way of knowing when I am extra stressed out.

On those days, like today, she ensures that I eat a full, solid meal.

“These are amazing.” I groan as I reach for the tea. Lorien smiles indulgently at me, and I sigh with happiness.

I can truly be myself around Lorien, even if I am not always sure of who I am.

My entire life I have been defined by my family.

I am a k’sheng dark elf.

I am the brother of Calix.

I am the second son of Talara and Rhamos.

It became difficult to know who I truly was. It still is difficult.

But when I am alone with Lorien, who is my mother in every sense of the word, I feel less frantic.

With her, there is no need for me to prove myself.

In fact, I am quite sure that if I asked her, Lorien would tell me exactly who I am and what I am.

I just don’t think I am ready to hear that answer.

“And Calix?” Lorien asks me, and her nose wrinkles slightly.

She asks me out of duty, to be polite, because that is how she was raised and that is how she has always worked.

She might not like my family – she told me years ago that I am the only reason she remained in my parents’ employ – but she will never disrespect them.

“What do you want me to say? If you’re hoping that the meeting went well because of him, then you’d be sorely mistaken.”

She sighs and her green eyes flicker with anger.

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