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He doesn’t seem to notice and turns away from me for a few steps. “Yup. So, I guess you could say me and the boys are doing our neighborly duty.” He spins around, and a maniacal expression claims his features. “What do you say we make this a two-for-one, boys?”
They shout and move in like jackals.
I turn to Orlagh and cringe, not entirely because I’m afraid, but because I can’t believe these fools are so seduced by this corrupt sense of power. They aren’t even questioning the morality of their actions.
“I think you’ve made your point,” says a low voice, slicing through the noise.
I look up. Belwyn shields the two of us from the onslaught. Relief, and somethingdifferent,wash over me.
Flip’s voice sounds muted from the other side of him. “Come on, Bel. We’re just having a bit of fun. Let us take a few shots.”
Flip yelps as Belwyn grabs his wrist and forces him to his knees.
“Alright,alright.”
Belwyn releases him. “Get out of here,” he growls.
I shift so I can see around Belwyn’s broad-shouldered frame.
“You used to know how to have a good time.” Flip cradles his wrist and scowls. “What happened to you?”
Almost inaudibly, Belwyn replies, “More than you can possibly understand.”
With that, it’s over. No one offers one more word in protest. The assailants slither back into the crowd, and the marketplace resumes business as usual.
Orlagh pats my arm, and I release her.
“Thank yeh, child,” she wheezes into my ear and squeezes me painfully tight. “Yer ma would be proud of yeh.” Without a glance at her devastated merchant’s stall, she limps toward the crowd where many hands and several aged friends receive her.
As I stand in the middle of the carnage, an overwhelming feeling of loneliness overtakes me. My eyes travel from the ruined loaves and find Belwyn’s warm irises fixed on me.
Without questioning what I’m doing, I walk into his empty arms.
This ... this is absurd. A moment to which I never gave a single thought. But here it is. And now I know every fiber of my being has been craving it since the moment I met him.
Slowly, cautiously, his arms wrap around me, pulling me into his embrace. I start to think about my hands. What do I do with them? Should I hug him in return? The idea makes my insides twist. I held his hand before, but that was different. I didn’t have to think about it. It felt right in the moment. But I don’t know what’s expected of me, or what I expect of myself. Relenting, I let them rest, limp and awkward at my sides.
I press my cheek to his chest and suck in a shaky breath. One of his hands slides to rest between my shoulder blades, and the other presses into the middle of my back.
A shiver spreads through me from the epicenter of his touch, and I feel him shaking too. Is it cold? Was I cold? I don’t remember. I don’t know anything anymore, except the feeling of safety, the smell of leather, and the sound of his heart beating much faster than it should be.
Too soon, the moment passes. His hands slide down my arms, find my hands. They slip between my fingers and pull me in a daze through boisterous people I don’t hear and sights I can’t see.
When the light and commotion has been fully exchanged for the darkness and stillness of the side streets, I find the courage to look at him.
I notice things now that I would not have dared before. How his hair is longer and wavier at the front. How the gold ring in his nose mimics the faint ring of gold around his pupils. How when his eyes find mine, it’s hard to breathe.
“Amyrah.” Belwyn faces me and takes hold of my arms. His fingers leave tingling impressions. “You should be careful.”
His severity is a gust of icy wind. I blink several times and try to make my mind focus on anything other than the space between us.
“Wha—”
His hands tighten, and he stoops a bit lower to make sure he has my attention. “I believe that because of your—yourability—you may be in danger.”
I know this, but hearing it from his mouth makes it sink in. My eyes probe his olive skin, fixate on the crease between his brows.
Why does this matter to me now, when it didn’t before?
