When I wake the next morning, Layla is already out of the bed. I roll over into the warmth of her spot and pout. “Hey,” I call out to her, watching her in the bathroom. “Come back to bed. It’s too cold to be up.”
“I can’t,” she says, cleaning her teeth. I stretch out and sit up, turning to put my feet on the floor. It’s cold and I’m already regretting it but I’m determined to pull her back for another round. We fell asleep not long after finishing our bath so we didn’t get a chance last night.
Pulling her by the arm, I start tugging her from the basin but she swats me away, rolling her eyes. “We can’t,” she repeats herself. “I have to get ready for work. I’m going to be late if I don’t hurry.”
“I can cover you,” I offer. “Find some excuse…” I trail a finger down her arm.
“Kerym,” she protests. “I’m already going to get the third degree from my aunt and uncle for not coming home last night. I can’t risk getting in trouble for being late to my shift in the mines as well.”
“Don’t you want to stay?” I ask, pretending to pout, trying to get her to give in.
“Yes, but you need to go to work too,” she reminds me. “Now go get dressed.”
I ignore her, heading to the kitchen instead. I need to make sure she’s got something to eat before she heads off. Working in the mines is tough, difficult labor and it won’t do if she’s got nothing in her belly.
I crack two eggs into the pan and feed more fuel into the cast iron stove, turning the heat higher. As soon as they’re done cooking, I bring the plate directly up to Layla, who’s already dressed.
“Thank you, Kerym,” She says, scooping up some of the eggs while I quickly clean up and change into my work clothes as well. I put on a black and gold brocade vest over a button up shirt and brown and cream pinstripe trousers. I’m pulling on my sturdy boots when Layla gasps, hearing the grandfather clock in the hall chime the hour.
“Go!” I tell her, pushing her towards the stairs. We hurry down and I all but shove her out the back door.
I watch her off, something stirring painfully inside as she hurries towards the mines. She’s dressed in the clothes she wore yesterday. A black corset vest over her white shift and plain brown dress, a thick sweater swaddled around her shoulders to help fight off the chill of the mountains. Sturdy. Comfortable for working long, exhausting hours.
It isn’t right. She shouldn’t have to work so hard. But this is the life we lead.
I wish I could at least be there to protect her but I can’t do that in my current position. I was stationed at the camp a year ago.
That’s when Layla and I first met. I think I was taken with her the moment I first saw her, standing there, arguing with one of the overseers. I marched over and demanded to know what the issue was.
“He’s risking one of the girls down there, insisting that she venture into a tunnel because she’s smaller but there’s a danger because she’s new and scared,” Layla says, brow scrunched in frustration. “I think we should send in someone more trained but he’s being dripir-headed about it!”
“This stupid human won’t obey my orders!” the elf yells. “Do what I say or you’ll be whipped!”
She is so tiny. Her head barely clears my chest but she stands there with her hands on her hips, scowling and giving the overseer what-for without any fear.
“You know, if we lose a human who just started, it won’t look good,” I tell him, trying to maneuver the situation carefully. “And there will be so much paperwork…we might lose half a day just cleaning it up if she panics and has an accident.”
“Fine,” the overseer she was arguing with concedes, looking irritated at both of us. “Who would you send in the little brat’s stead then?”
“I’ll go,” she volunteers quickly. “I’ll explore the tunnel and see if it’s worth opening up.”
“Right then,” I turn to the overseer. “Is that satisfactory?” He scowls and walks away, clearly ready to be done with the whole thing.
“Thanks.” She turns to me, looking me up and down. “I’m Layla Whitlock. You must be new here. Vikro is one of the more stubborn ones. He’s always ready to send the humans into danger if there’s a chance to find a new ore.”
“Kerym Torsys,” I tell her. “I don’t believe in needless danger. I think that the outcome should be weighed against the risk before taking action.”
“You’re different,” Layla says, eyes crinkling in the corners as she smiles. “I’ve never met a dark elf like you.”
“You likely won’t,” I tell her. “I know many of my kind can view humans as mere cogs in the wheel but if even the smallest, most seemingly insignificant cog is damaged, the entire wheel stops working.”
“Interesting,” Layla bites her lip as she takes me in. I can’t stop staring myself. Her tan skin is glowing, despite spending all her days in the mines, and there are freckles scattered all across the bridge of her nose and a few on her cheeks. I want to reach out and touch them, trace them and find out just how far down her body they go.
“And you’re right,” I add, trying to distract myself from my inappropriate thoughts. “I am new here. I’m from Vhoig,” I tell her. “I’m here to work as a guard.”
“I’ll be sure to keep an eye out for you then,” Layla says, turning back to head deeper into the mines. “Nice to meet you, Kerym.”
I watched her walk away and knew at that moment I was smitten. It didn’t take long for us to keep “accidentally” running into each other and our friendship progressed into something physical not long after that.
We agreed to keep it quiet. Layla knows her family wouldn’t approve of our dalliance and as for me? I know it can’t be anything more than what it is. So for now, we’re content in keeping things between us strictly physical.
I’m also afraid of what the other dark elves would do to her if they were to find out. They might retaliate against her out of spite. It’s not exactly forbidden but it’s looked down on for dark elves and humans to be together.
The only thing I can do is to keep an eye on her while I patrol her sector. Which is what I’m going to be doing today, just in case someone says something to her about her wearing the same clothes as yesterday, or anything else.
Things are calm for a while but inevitably, someone is going to do something to get under my skin. I just know it. Layla is pretty and smart and fierce and naturally every man in the vicinity is drawn to her, elf and human alike.
I’m patrolling when it happens. One of her fellow human men gets a little too close for her comfort. Roy Jenkins is a tubby, weak-chinned human with buck teeth and bad breath, and has been harassing Layla to spend time in his cabin for weeks now.
She always tells him off but he’s persistent. I see it happen from the other end of the sector. Roy waits until she’s busy before dropping a pinch to her backside, causing her to let out a tiny yelp. He smirks, as though he’s gotten away with something. And to the naked eye, he has.
If she yells out, the overseer might not intercede, or worse, might add to her trouble, so she’s forced to swallow her rage down and walk away.
Some men just need to be taught a lesson in respect, apparently. I don’t want Layla to think I’m fighting her battles for her, or for it to be obvious that I’m fighting on her behalf so I wait for the opportune moment to get Roy alone.
It happens about an hour later. Roy has come to the water drum for a break and I just happen to be patrolling the area at the same time.
When he walks up to the drum, he happens to trip over my boot and land face first into the drum. I hold him there underwater as he sputters and fights, trying to free himself.
“You slimy little casein,” I whisper in his ear. “Do you not think I see the things you do to the human women you work with? You’re pathetic. Many of the elves here wouldn’t care if they knew but I do. I don’t abide by taking advantage of those weaker than you. If you ever touch another of them again on my watch, I’ll beat you until you’re a bloody pulp. Understood?”
Roy gasps for air and nods, eyes bulging out of their sockets as water streams down his face.
I might not be able to protect her directly, but I do what I can.
