Chapter 21: Value

Morning following the event,

Flora's The point of view:

I awoke when I heard mom and dad in the kitchen giggling and dishes hitting the table. My room was close to the kitchen but obscured by the stairs to the upper levels. I stretched my entire body, cracked my hands with open palms, and stretched my fingers. My body crackled with stretches as I stood off the bed, and I took a breath to collect my thoughts on the night's occurrences.

After Glove chased after the man who almost attacked us, I was escorted to my room as Quinn and daddy stood in the night waiting for Glove to return with news, while Mother took to bed as she soothed my anxieties with her numerous bed songs to help me sleep, my tears dried up as I felt protected as usual.

I wanted to tell her that I am no longer a baby, but my body and the agony of the dread that overcame me prevented me from doing so for the time being. At midnight, I was awakened by the sound of hushed voices arguing in the kitchens.

I recognized my father's, mother's, and Quinn's voices, but the other voice belonged to the guy from whom I knew my father was lying about being a bodyguard, much like Quinn.

During the night, they went out to see the play in the capital square, and I met some of my friends from the learning home who began to brag about their families bringing people of Glove's color to their house to do whatever they wanted, whenever they wanted.

As a result, their parents told them that they were nothing more than pets who bent to their master's wishes, and that they were slaves. When I added ''exactly like Quinn'', they chuckled and explained what a slave was, which surprised me.

That day, I began to see Glove in a new light; I wanted to say something about the incident, but after he saved me, all I wanted was to thank him.

He had returned home; now was my chance to express a real thank you, I thought as I awoke and slowly opened my door to hear what was going on. The conversation could be about a serious matter that could result in a thrashing from my mother if I disrupt the mood.

"What happened, slave, who was that man, and why are you covered in blood?" Mom said, her voice trembling.

"I was a minor scuffle, you should see what happened to the other guy," Glove joked, possibly trying to lighten things up.

Mom exclaimed, "See the other guy! Slave, where is the other guy?! is currently being buried in the earth as the guards arrive to look into a slave murdering a master. Do you know what this means for our... I mean, my family."

"I am aware," Glove replied, his attitude solemn, but the shading on his face suggested murderous intent surrounding him, or so I imagined when I saw his face.

Asterios and Quinn remained quiet for a while as Dad inquired:

"What happened to the merchant and that man?"

"Oh you mean Meyrick," Glove said as he continued.

"Meyrick is fine, he got medical attention do not worry if the guards come, I will take the blame and also the intruder has died in the hands of the merchant"

Mom then raised her hand and struck Glove in the face, gritting her teeth.

"You've gotten my family in danger, child; even if the attacker dies, it's still an issue. The merchant will blame you when he wakes up, and we will have to compensate for the inconvenience. We don't have the money to do that, Asterios." she looked at dad.

Mother was about to yell at dad, who stood there deep in thought, while Glove caressed his cheeks with his hands and asked:

"Tell me something master's wife, do you love your daughter?"

"Why ask such a Question?"

"Your yelling won't help; right now, that man will blame us for the events he produced by having his man attack your home and then murder his faithful man in front of my eyes for the failure. The man enjoys both money and pleasure, but he lives on pleasure, which is what he receives. I came here not to be a slave; even if you send me out, I shall live and eat like I did when I had nobody."

Quinn raised an eyebrow and inquired with some bewilderment in his voice:

"Did the war take them? your parents I mean"

Glove chuckled slightly and asked:

"No, my birth killed them, and the war was only puberty; nevertheless, I need to sleep and avoid being in the same room with someone who perceives the fear of power as a threat to her family. That man is a pedophile, and he got what he deserved; perhaps I should have killed him.

Glove left the house in a bad mood, which made me wonder if he did it for himself or for me... I hope he did as my heart ached as I went back to bed.

***

In the morning, I welcomed my mother with a warm grin and hug, and my father received one as well. There was aroma in the air, and my nose lapped with delight as it twitched slightly. food I was about to run to the table for some when a hand stopped me. Daddy's deadpan yet amusing expression always made me want to confess the truth. He asked:

"Did you wipe your teeth?"

I shook my head in refusal.

He asked:

"Why did not wipe your teeth?"

"Because I just woke up"

Dad scoffed, chuckled, and added

"Go wipe yourself"

"Okay," I agreed as I entered a room with a little window and enormous clay pots filled with water, taking a jug containing some liquid that smelled like the drink Mom and Dad enjoy whenever I go out to see Brother Marx for the weekend.

I dipped a cloth in the liquid and began wiping my teeth as hard as I could till, they bled slightly, then drank some water and spit in a little container in the corner away from the water and alcohol liquid.

I wiped my face as well and left the room.

Breakfast was uneventful for me; I ate some bread with jam and butter while drinking some squished orange juice. Something about the sweetness made me grin as I felt melted away.

After I finished, I stood up and said:

"I am going outside"

"Have fun"

"Sure," my folks countered as I went away.

When I opened the door to the front yard, something told me to gaze at the wall leading to the farm and grazing area.

He was standing on top of a wall. He used one leg to balance, while the other was stretched out straight with his hands in a prayer stance.

'What's he doing?' I asked myself in consideration.