Page 100 of Emma & Edmund

“I had planned to go but received a sign to stay behind. I can now see why my Master commanded it.”

Emma guffawed sardonically, eyes going wide. “Master! How could you damn your soul for such a horrific creature?”

"Why do you love his son?"

Emma almost lost her nerve when Annie fully turned to her, to stare her in the eyes. Despite being smaller and frailer than Emma, the dark irises piercing into hers stirred intimidation in her gut. Her tongue knotted despite herself.

"Be...because," Emma stuttered, her mouth running dry, tears pricking her eyes as Edmund's face flashed in her mind, "I've never met anyone who makes me feel as he does. I feel safe and protected, yet challenged and pushed to do things I would never do on my own. I always knew, even if I failed so miserably, he would be there to catch me and encourage me to try again. I didn't want to love him," Emma admitted, "but the need to came all the same."

Annie let the words hang between them, fire popping and crackling over the dying flames.

For Emma, she was desperately wiping away the tears that managed to escape. In the rush to get back to him, Emma had forgotten just how much she missed him. In the chill of the night, she wanted nothing more than his arms around her. She knew it was just a trick of her mind, but she could have sworn she felt a phantom kiss at the back of her neck, sending a bolt of excitement through her.

"And that's why I follow my Master."

The response nearly fell on deaf ears, Emma too far wrapped up in her thoughts of Edmund, so much so she was convinced she heard wrong.

"What could you possibly mean?"

With more patience than Emma could have guessed from her, Annie drawled on.

"I, along with many women in these parts, have purposefully chosen our Lord Molek. We are not fooled into thinking there will be salvation for us when our days draw to an end, but before then, our days will be filled with passion and our nights filled with the hope of another day. The love you feel for your chosen mate is the same love we feel for ours. He is excitement. He is sanctuary. He is love."

There were a thousand questions that rumbled through Emma. She wanted to ask just how many worshipers there were or how Annie even found such a path in life, but they all seemed inappropriate and mattered not to the woman's point. She knew the feelings Annie spoke of, and while the target of Annie's passion was incomprehensible to Emma, it would be impossible to not understand.

She didn't need to know all the details to understand love.

"All right," Emma said simply with a nod, leaning back in her seat and taking up her bowl. "Although, I still think him awful."

"Leaves more for the rest of us, then." Annie mirrored Emma's actions. "If you ever need to see beyond your own narrow view of the world, you can pay me a visit again."

The words were harsh, but they still made Emma smile. Little did she think their conversation would end with an invitation for another visit. Annie, though rough around the edges, gave her an evening of clarity - the very first she had in what felt like months. There weren't riddles or clues or teasing, only unabashed, if harsh, truth.

Emma hoped she, too, would be able to act as Annie had, fully embracing the things she loves without hesitation or reservation.

The storm steadily puttered away to just a lull of rain. Emma had tried to help clear their dishes, but her attempt at cleaning them was quite poor. Annie shooed her away from the washbasin to finish the job properly.

When the fire burned to embers, the two began to ready for bed. As Annie pulled a worn, ratty quilt from the wardrobe, handing it to Emma, regret had begun to ball in Emma's stomach.

She entered this woman's home unannounced, made assumptions at every turn she could, ate her food, and couldn't even clean up after herself. Even back at Belmont, she only thought the worst of the woman now helping her.

"I'm sorry, Mrs. Annie."

"Just Annie, now." The woman pushed on the small of Emma's back urging her to the sofa, Emma's bed for the night. "And there's nothing to be sorry for."

"But not just now, I mean back-" Emma tried to turn and insist the woman hear her apology, needing to get it out for her own soul's sake.

"If you're so sorry," Annie smiled up at her, "then bring him here to see me. Otherwise, just go to sleep."

Ignoring the offered sleep, Emma threw her shoulders back, set her jaw, and about-faced to the front door. She had no idea if she could actually fulfill the request, but she had to try.

Ripping open the front door, Emma saw the empty carriage on the road. Cupping her hands around her mouth, she called into the night, "Molek, you bastard! Come here!"

"What in the world are you doing!" Annie scuttled up behind her, taking the door handle from Emma's grasp, fully prepared to slam it shut.

Emma felt rather silly at the moment, knowing her attempt to give Annie a gift for her kindness could blow up in her face.

When the smell of sulfur hit her nose, she could have cried in relief.

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