Page 20 of The Bell That Broke the Beast

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"You did well," Roseth says once the square settles again.

"I have negotiated louder crowds."

She laughs, the sound warm enough to linger in the space between us.

"I imagine you have," she says. "Though probably under significantly worse circumstances."

We return to the bells as lanterns begin to glow overhead.

At some point, Roseth steps closer to examine the silver rings woven into my braids.

"These keep slipping," she murmurs.

Before I can react, her fingers brush the braid near my temple as she adjusts the clasp holding the rings in place.

The world narrows instantly. Every distant sound softens beneath the awareness of her touch.

Her fingers work carefully, gently adjusting the clasp without pulling.

She finishes adjusting the clasp and steps back, entirely unaware of the chaos she leaves behind.

"That should hold better," she says.

I nod, grateful she does not ask why speaking suddenly feels impossible.

Later, when lantern light ripples across the lake and the square grows quiet, we walk back toward the forge together.

"Thank you," Roseth says quietly, "for telling me the truth today."

"You deserved to know."

"It does not change how I see you." She confesses.

I glance at her. "It should."

We stop outside the forge door. She turns to face me fully, amber eyes searching mine in the darkness.

"You are not what they made you," she says. "You are what you chose to become after."

I want to reach for her, want to close the distance between us and discover if the chaos I feel is mutual. Instead I remain still, gloved hands pressed flat against my sides.

"Goodnight, Roseth," I mutter.

"Goodnight, Khaivor."

She disappears inside the forge. The door closes softly behind her.

I stand in the darkness long after she is gone, listening to the distant sound of bells ringing across the water.

A realization settles quietly into place.

I do not want to leave Bellmere when the festival ends.

The thought arrives gently, yet refuses to leave. It sinks roots into my chest, spreading through my ribs like something living.

7

ROSETH