Page 12 of Emma & Edmund

"I'm sorry, but for me to trust you right now, I require your name." A name made him less otherly. A name gave humanity. With his clear manners and speech, he must have one.

"I don't think you'll believe me even if I say it."

Emma sighed in frustration, watching him flinch at the noise. "Look, whatever you say, I promise I'll believe you. I'm not exactly in a position to do otherwise, anyway."

For a long moment, he still looked warily between her and the door. With the speed he had shown before, she didn't doubt that he would be able to escape her questioning before she could even think to move. But still, he stood up just a little bit straighter, and opened his mouth.

Only for a loud clap of thunder to drown out any of the words.

"I'm sorry," Emma said once the noise waned, "but I didn't quite hear that."

"I said, I am Edmund Lockhart. Welcome to my home."

Chapter 4

"Excuse me?" Emma blurted, unbelieving.

"I said, I am-"

"Oh, I heard you, but...but...," she stuttered. "It's impossible."

Her host adverted his eyes, perfect posture faltering as he brought a pawish hand to scratch at his neck.

"I know it might seem so. However strange it may be, my name is as real as I am." A pang of guilt hit Emma's gut, the sadness palpable in his voice. Lying or not, the being before her must have been living a lonely existence. Either enough to craft such a lie, or far worse, if it was the truth. If it was, it would make sense why no one had ever actually seen the Lockhart heir, stashed away deep in the countryside as he was.

"You must be here for the party." So-called-Lord Edmund caught her attention again, words lighter.

"Yes.Yourparty apparently," she said pointedly, watching his reaction carefully for any sign of trickery.

"Ah...well," he stuttered, quickly backing out of the room far too fluidly, hands held up as if to hold her back, "why don't you rest a bit more, and I'll make us some tea."

Before Emma could even attempt to respond, the creature-Edmund Lockhart-had fully deserted and shut the door quietly behind him.

Despite what he asked, it would be impossible for her to rest now. Not only was the smell of her sickness becoming almost unbearable, but how could one rest when such information is just laid at their feet?

Slowly crawling off the mattress, taking great care to step off the edge of the bed, Emma's limbs felt like they were flowing with pins and needles as they stretched fully. Her dress, drying quickly in the heat of the generous fire, was stiff, uncomfortable, and definitely stained beyond repair, but at least held on with only superficial cuts and tears.

Could it be true? Couldthisbe the mysterious Lord Lockhart?

Regardless, true or not, what even was he? The massive being was unlike any character of fairytale she had ever known. Perhaps he was an ogre, but something about the moniker didn't quite seem to fit.

And she never would have expected a creature of that kind to seem almostnervous.He looked as if he could maul her in a moment if he wanted to!

Perhaps she really did die and was stuck in a strange, surreal limbo. Or maybe, far more likely, she had smacked against that rock hard enough she was hallucinating.

As if flattered by the attention, her temple pounded at the reminder of her injury, thrumming throughout her body with renewed force. A particularly harsh pulse pulled a hiss, feeling as if her blood was pumping right out of the wound, and she brought a hand up to inspect.

If she truly was hallucinating, a new feature was added to her fantasy. How could she have missed the tightly wound bandage that covered her head temple to temple otherwise? And the sticky drying blood seeping through the cloth certainly felt real.

After a particularly loud bang, followed by an elongated clatter, beyond the door, she gave up wondering. She wanted answers instead.

With a burst of energy her bruised bones didn't seem to agree with, Emma dashed the short distance, grasping the knob with dirty, sweaty hands.

Whatever fantastical wonderland or firepits of Hell she could have imagined on the other side of the door couldn't have been farther from the truth.

Plush navy sofas took up most of the space, crowded around a wide fireplace, worn but very cozy looking. She could lay fully sprawled across the cushions and her toes would not reach the other armrest, as oversized as it was.

An equally enlarged dining table, fit with four matching chairs, sat on the opposite wall.

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