How could I tell them what was really going on. That I was enslaved to a demon, forced into this female body with all it’s whims and caprices. That my love for Anso, though real for Meli, was abomination for me.

I could do that of course, and then spend the next day or so waiting for the fire they’d throw me on to cleanse out the curse.

So I did what any self-respecting, terrified of dying, medieval woman would do.

I sold out my lover. Spoke about the demonic rituals I was forced to do. The drinking of blood, the naked moonlight dancing, blah, blah, blah.

So I had to endure a few beatings and a little torture, what they called exorcism, but hey I did get out of there alive, sort of, and the Bishop kept a very close eye on me. He kept something else close too, not that I could do anything about that.

“You did well, young Jedi,” Les smirked.

“B* off,” I told him. “If they hear me talking to you the Bishop will really screw me.” And not in the way he normally does, either.