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“I’ll admit, Oscar, that was quite the embellishment,” Galen mused. He didn’t think much would surprise him after all he’d seen in his travels, but his week at the Moon Flower had opened his eyes in more ways than one. “It was all beginning to sound like a children’s fairy tale.”
“Maybe you should write a novel,” Bellamy told Oscar. “And put all your fantastical ideas into it.”
Oscar scoffed. “Perhaps I will.”
“Hopefully you don’t talk as much with the gentlemen,” Bellamy said. “You would bore them to death.”
Oscar arched a brow. “Don’t worry. I make use of my mouth in other ways.”
“Yes, we can hear you. You might be loudest of all.”
Bellamy and Oscar’s bickering ended the moment Madam Langley swept into the room, looking lighter than Galen had ever seen her. Time to herself did indeed do her well. And he’d been right about how she commanded their respect because every one of them had straightened upon her arrival. Perhaps because they still felt on tenuous ground, only a stone’s throw away from joining him to sleep under the bridge.
“I hope your dinner was lovely?” she asked, and everyone responded in the affirmative. “Good. Enjoy the rest of your evening.”
Once they finished their meal, Galen followed Oscar and the twins down the hallway toward their room.
Azriel caught up and stepped in time beside Galen. “Have you considered drawing the auras you see?”
Galen’s stomach dipped. He hadn’t realized Azriel was aware of his sketching hobby, but perhaps he’d overheard his conversation with the twins about his drawing pad. “I’ve certainly tried, but with only pencils to work with…”
“I actually meant using colored wax.”
Galen’s feet faltered. “I’ve not had the privilege.” Nor the money. He’d seen them in different shops under glass, and what they could create, but he couldn’t spare the expense when his belly remained empty.
“Yes, of course, it was silly of me to bring up.” Azriel ducked his head, red branding his cheeks. “Sorry.”
“Don’t be.” Galen sighed. “I can still dream.”
“Sometimes that’s all we have,” Azriel replied, and when their eyes met, Galen felt a little jolt in his chest that he couldn’t explain.
Chapter 7
The following morning, Galen stayed close to Oscar in the apothecary as they unpacked a shipment of crystals, dried herbs, and strange insects in glass jars. His gaze kept drifting toward Azriel, who was behind the counter with Madam Langley, tending to the line of customers and their many requests, from good luck charms to healing liniments. Azriel looked surer of himself in this role, happier too. His blue aura was lighter at the edges, as if he was allowing sunshine to filter through. And when the result was one of his dazzling smiles in Galen’s direction? Galen had trouble looking away.
“Moon Flower is very popular,” Galen said, marveling at the steady stream of patrons. “Madam Langley as well.”
“Quite. As is Madam Fairborn from Enchantment.” This was the second time he’d heard the place mentioned, and he was very curious.
“The shops are comparable?”
“In more ways than one,” Oscar teased, then lowered his voice. “Enchantment is similar to Moon Flower, below and above. But it is for ladies with specific preferences.”
Galen gasped. The idea that there was a place for people like him—like all of them—to safely meet their needs seemed nearly unattainable. But two in the same town? That left him spinning.
“Do the madams know each other well?”
“They certainly do.” Oscar looked over his shoulder before continuing. “Madam Langley has never admitted it directly, but there are enough clues…”
“What sort of clues?”
“The sort that indicate they are beloved to one another.”
He attempted to hide his surprise, but it was impossible. And now the conversation at the dinner table was beginning to make sense. Was Madam Langley taking time for herself and her beloved? It sounded both scandalous and romantic. And if it was true, no wonder she seemed so dreamy-eyed when she returned.
He wanted to inquire further, but this was not the time nor place. Besides, Galen was in a state of utter fascination with alluring things to observe wherever he looked.
The bell above the door jingled, and he glanced toward the entrance. As soon as the large man in uniform stepped inside, the energy in the room changed, making Galen’s skin prickle. The constable looked intimidating, that was for certain, but what drew Galen’s attention was the man’s aura, thick and gray like storm clouds.
Even Oscar had grown silent beside him, and when Galen scrutinized the constable more closely—the patch sewn upon his breast, the gleaming black baton at his waist—it dawned on him why he seemed familiar. He was the same man of authority who’d arrested and beaten the whore in the street. Galen stiffened, his senses on high alert. He felt as worried as he’d been that night—not only that the constable might kill the man lying motionless after he’d used the stick to bash him about his body; Galen had been fearful for himself as well, that he too might be arrested and beaten for being a whore. Not to mention, he didn’t know whether he was wanted as a thief, but if he was, there was always a chance that it had followed him from his aunt and uncle’s village.
