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As they slowly came back to themselves, they leaned on each other for support, and that was heady in itself. He’d never held another man, let alone felt this kind of intensity. Tears stung his eyes, but he swallowed them down. It would not do to become emotional from such a simple gesture. What had come over him?
“Thank you…for giving me that.” Mr. Blackburn sounded wrecked, and unless Galen’s eyes were still foggy from his own emotion, he could’ve sworn the man had wiped a stray tear from his eye.
“Thank you, sir.” Azriel blinked, coming back to himself. His face flamed as he stepped away, the shyness returning, and Galen felt bereft of his warmth.
They moved quietly about the room, using the basin and ewer of water to clean themselves before putting on their underclothes. Galen fidgeted in his bare feet, wondering what might be expected of them next. He hoped the goodbye would not be awkward.
“Now, then,” Mr. Blackburn said, straightening his waistcoat. “Who would like to play me in a game of draughts? Or perhaps backgammon?”
Azriel grinned. “Considering I beat you last time, perhaps Galen would like to challenge you?”
“That you did.” Mr. Blackburn laughed, and Galen enjoyed the sound of it. “What do you say, Galen? Unless you’d rather return to your room?”
“No…I…I would love to play. It’s been ages.”
And that was what they did, played and chatted, and Mr. Blackburn called for more refreshment—this time a strong, black tea Galen quite enjoyed.
He listened as Mr. Blackburn asked Azriel about his work in the apothecary, and Azriel recounted the story about the lady he was hoping to help with her nerves.
“I have a field of lavender near my cottage in the country,” Mr. Blackburn said, his eyes taking on a faraway look as his aura deepened to the richest blue Galen had ever seen. “It’s lovely. Though I haven’t been there in some months.”
Azriel threw Galen a worried look, and he wondered just how much he knew about Mr. Blackburn. “Perhaps your rooms in town suit you better?”
“Yes, perhaps. For now.” Mr. Blackburn drained the rest of his tea, then changed the subject, keeping the conversation light, and thankfully never asking Galen anything too personal.
Before he knew it, the evening had come to an end, and Azriel was helping Mr. Blackburn into his coat.
The place was quiet as they headed to their darkened room. Most of the other men were asleep, save for a couple of beds that still remained empty.
“Well, good night,” Azriel whispered.
“Thank you for allowing me…” Galen could not find the right words. “I’m sorry if I infringed on your time with him. I can see how much you enjoy it.”
He arched a brow. “Is that so?”
“Well, yes, both nights you seemed to—” His cheeks heated. “Never mind.”
Azriel grew still. “You watched last night?”
“I…I did. I’m sorry if that was not what you intended.”
After a long beat, Azriel said, “Well, I’m certainly not.”
“Not what?”
“Sorry.”
Galen could scarcely catch his breath as he watched Azriel pad to his own bed.
When Galen settled under his linens, he didn’t know if sleep would ever find him, as the night’s events kept replaying in his head. But eventually, it did.
Chapter 13
The following day after lunch—where he’d tried to get enough sustenance without being too obvious—Galen gathered the little he had to carry in his satchel. Leaving Moon Flower felt…surreal. Like the outside world hadn’t existed in more than a week—even with the customers coming and going.
He’d changed into the clothing he’d arrived in, now clean and mended but still ragged. There were so few things he owned outright, and Galen was proud to a fault, so dressing in them was meant to convince him that he could stand on his own again. At least he’d accepted the new shoes. They were a bit tight and pinched his toes, but the maid had insisted his were unrepairable, which didn’t surprise him.
The others were off doing chores, Azriel was with Madam Langley in the apothecary, and as Galen glanced around the room where he’d slept the past ten days, he realized it felt like much longer. But he didn’t want to overstay his welcome or become an inconvenience to another family—blood related or not. He was already an added mouth to feed, and feeling like an encumbrance was worse than being hungry. Still, that didn’t stop him from tucking in his bag the extra bread he’d amassed at lunch, because it always came down to survival.
His chest was as taut as the strings on a fiddle as he headed toward the door. He’d made quick work earlier of saying his goodbyes to the twins, Bellamy, Oscar, and the others, but had yet to face Azriel, or Madam Langley, for that matter.
They’d begun their day at dawn with an important task, and had not been present at breakfast. Galen wanted to ask what was so pressing, but it was no longer any of his business.
