Another one of his damnable, charming smirks appeared. “I think I’m starting to already.”
Time seemed to slow and go entirely too fast at the same time. When the song faded, and the polite clapping of Everferd’s townsfolk brought her from her reverie, Helspira missed the chill of Catseye’s touch as he released her from his gentle hold. The last sliver of sunset lit the river stone streets in orange streaks, and several people tossed coins Ben’s way before mumbling awkward thank-yous.
“There’s an inn ’round the corner,” came Catseye’s voice. “I’ll secure us a room. We’ll head to Theodore’s at first light.”
It seemed cruel for the day to have ended already. Helspira recalled precious few moments where she had tasted true freedom: the first time the sun had caressed her face when she and her parents had touched Siaphara’s upper soil, and today when she had enjoyed the cultural delights of mankind without fear of their judgmental gazes.
Alas. Eventually all good things came to an end.
“Did you see that?” Ben laughed and shoved Catseye excitedly. “People were clapping. Dancing.Tomymusic. By Dionus’s grace, I haven’t felt this alive since I was, well ... alive.”
“A flawless performance as usual.” Catseye clapped a hand onto Ben’s shoulder. “Linger here a moment, would you? I’ve got enough left from today’s excursions to fetch us a night at The Belltower Inn, and then it’s back to soul-crushing reality come dawn.”
As Catseye retrieved his scythe and carved a path toward the inn, Ben rounded on Helspira with enthusiasm. “So? What did you think?”
She poked a finger into his sternum, smirking. “I think it’s cruel that you waited this long to grace my ears with your gift.”
“Then, I am cruel. Thanks for not sharing my fatal flaw. I don’t doubt your dancing with Sikras lifted his spirit.”
Helspira coughed out a nervous laugh and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. If her pounding heart was any indication, his spirit wasn’t the only one lifted during that dance. “Right, well, we, um ... We should probably follow him and get to our room.”
Ben postured, slowly inclining his chin. “Why don’t I meet up with you two later?” he said, the upward inflection of his voice insinuating unspoken thoughts.
“You’re going to walk the town alone? At night?”
“I’m not alone.” Ben swung his lute around so it rested at his back. “I’ve got all these rats to keep me company. Besides, I’m dead. What’s the worst that could happen?”
Before she could argue, Ben saluted her and slipped into the waning crowd. Though fewer people livened the streets, the tall torches lit by the local lamplighters gave the scenery a peaceful glow rather than the ominousness one might expect from a darkening city.
All right, Helspira thought. Okay. Alone in a room with Catseye. No problem. Not an issue at all.
The swirling amalgamation of emotions in the pit of her stomach suggested otherwise, but she could ignore them.
At least, she thought she could.
Some feelings were becoming harder to ignore than others.
FROM THE BALCONY, HELSPIRAstared across the city, tiny lights peppering the dim market below. She leaned onto the railing, wondering if she could spy Ben somewhere amongst the candlelit streets.
Rustling behind her made her turn, and she found Catseye, blankets in one hand, a bottle of wine with a single glass in the other. “I know you prefer the stars’ company, so I won’t try to convince you to sleep in the room, but”—he set down the blankets—“at least you don’t have to worry about any amethystle stabbing you in the back tonight.”
Helspira said nothing, lost in the grace of his movements, as he popped the cork and poured the deep red liquid into the glass.
“Couldn’t end the day without you sampling one of Everferd’s wines.” He handed her the drink. “It’s the city’s most popular export.”
The smoky fruity notes hit her nostrils first, followed by the subtle scent of the fermentation process. She took a sip, savoring the flavor before swallowing. “I can’t help but notice you don’t have a glass.”
“Oh, I don’t drink.”
“Don’t care for the taste?”
“No, I love wine. That was my favorite.” He nodded to her glass. “But alcohol has a way of dulling one’s thoughts, reflexes, awareness, and ... Well, I really could’ve used all my wits the last time I drank. Maybe it would’ve saved a few lives.”
It didn’t take a scholar to recognize which night he referred to. “Whatever happened with Vessik that night, with Imri, and Ben, and you,” Helspira said softly, “I’m sure it wasn’t your fault.”
He produced another cheerless smile that would’ve been convincing if she hadn’t come to know him so well. “That’s sweet of you to say,” he said, facing the cityscape.
She joined him in quiet appreciation, taking another small sip. “Today was nice.”
