Nine

You're safe in this house.

She told herself this each night before bed, trying to soothe away the nightmares and heal over bad memories. She couldn't say why she believed the words. After all, he'd yet to tell her why he'd brought her there, and she wasn't quite ready to ask. But ever since she'd been here, she'd been nothing but well taken care of.

She had come to fall into a regular routine as well. She woke, dressed, ate a small breakfast at the desk beneath the window in her room, read a book or two, and then made herself lunch in Ditty's company. He was out during the day—'at work' was all the elves would tell her—and so following lunch, she took to wandering the manor and its grounds before returning to her room. If it was nice enough out, she'd sometimes sit beneath a tree in the gardens, writing or reading as the hours passed until she went in for a bath, dressed in her nightgown and robe, and went to the library.

Most nights the elves would bring her a snack while she waited for both him and dinner. And he always arrived looking a tad, if not very, weary. It was a constant source of intrigue for her to wonder what it was he did during the day, especially on the evenings she was served and ate dinner alone.