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Bellamy had been wholly innocent about Gladstone and his operation directly after he’d lost his whole world, but not anymore. Time living in the elements had hardened him, at least a little. Perhaps not as solidly as the stone he leaned against. He still had plenty of soft spots, after all. Like the boy he’d grown enamored with over the past months since Ashwood had joined Gladstone, seemingly out of the blue. Though it was always like that—new faces came and went, some more troubled than others.
Sometimes when they talked late into the night, Ashwood confessed he was not proud of his stealthy skill. Nor did he turn over everything he’d stolen to Gladstone. He was brave—or possibly stupid—to double-cross their keeper, but Bellamy wished he could be that way too, that he wasn’t so afraid all the time.
“For the future, our future,” Ashwood had told him on more than one occasion, making Bellamy shiver. But for a different reason as well—he was afraid Ashwood would get caught by Gladstone or one of his henchmen, and Gladstone would make him pay. He’d once overheard their keeper discussing purposely blinding the youngest girl in their care to get more sympathy and coin from the aristocrats strolling by. Bellamy didn’t know what happened to her because she’d disappeared after that, and he’d been too frightened to ask. If they could do that, what might they do to Ashwood for keeping some of the earnings for himself?
Their eyes met across the cobblestone street, and Ashwood’s cheeks heated like they always did when he realized Bellamy had been watching him.
He’d felt inexplicably drawn to Ashwood from the start. Ashwood had been pensive and vigilant at first, and it made Bellamy wonder so many things about him. But soon enough, they had struck up a kinship of sorts, seeking each other out most nights when the room they slept in grew quiet.
Ashwood had shared that he’d been raised in an orphanage, where they were treated poorly, even beaten. He’d managed to escape, and though he didn’t discuss his time before he came to work for Gladstone, Bellamy guessed it’d been unsavory. In fact, sometimes it seemed there was something he feared even more than Gladstone. Bellamy had caught him looking over his shoulder on more than one occasion. When pressed, Ashwood said he’d belonged to another keeper named Kipling and that he hoped to never return to him. That’d made Bellamy doubly afraid for Ashwood. It didn’t seem right. They were only kids who belonged nowhere and had no place to call their own.
Bellamy had been so lost in thought, he startled when someone cleared their throat. A woman was standing before him. Her clothing wasn’t made of expensive fabrics like that of other society ladies, which made him slightly curious. As she bent to place a coin in his pan, she said in a lower register, “I am the madam at the Moon Flower Apothecary in Lunar’s Reach. If you ever need any assistance, come see me.”
“Thank you, Madam, but I don’t need any help,” he replied hollowly, knowing he was only saying the words in case he was overheard by Gladstone or his lackeys, who patrolled the corners regularly.
“That’s what they all say,” she muttered as she moved on, and he wondered what meaning her words had. In fact, he thought about her all afternoon, curious whether she approached homeless lads like him on the street often.
That night, by the time they convened at the empty building where they all slept, Bellamy was famished. The others looked just as weary and hungry, but everyone kept quiet, waiting. Thankfully, one of Gladstone’s henchmen passed around bread, cheese, and dried meats.
Afterward, they washed up in the basin. The water in the ewer was stale, but after being in the hot sun since before dawn, it felt refreshing, nonetheless. He found his pallet right beside Ashwood’s, beneath the window, and lay down to sleep. At least, that was his intention, but being beside Ashwood made his pulse beat erratically, and he couldn’t get settled most nights. Sometimes if Ashwood fell asleep first, Bellamy remained awake, staring at the moon and recalling some of his happier memories with his mother.
“I come of age a month before you,” Ashwood said once they were snuggled in side by side.
They’d sometimes gotten teasing or snide remarks whenever they were observed lying or whispering so close, but Bellamy didn’t take offense any longer nor fear retribution. They were all outcasts and vulnerable in one way or another. Of course, he would mind his manners in society, but here in this room, with only the stars as their backdrop, he took advantage of the closeness whenever he could.
“Are you trying to make me jealous?” Bellamy whispered back.
“No, I’m trying to plan for when we can be together.”
