I reach for his hand; Bes watches the movement intently, then places a hand on Cec’s shoulder.
Now, I have a greater understanding of what I saw in the great hall when we first arrived. About why Bes is the prodigal son instead of Cec: he’s the shame of his family because he lost his sight when he received his tattoo. Bes, on the other hand, didn’t lose anything. So, in Ansaldo’s eyes, Bes is more worthy than his own son.
Poor Cec… No wonder he disguises his emotions with humor like I do. Tragedy does things to a person, changes them, shapes them into something new. I’m sure losing his sight isn’t the only thing—real or perceived—to make his father treat him differently.
“Cec, you’re not less worthy,” I tell him softly. “You’re one of the worthiest people I’ve ever met.”
“That’s good of you to say, Hawkins,” he says, squeezing my hand. “Unfortunately, our doctrine would disagree with you.”
“Ansaldo mentioned healers earlier,” I recall. “Why can’t they fix your eyesight?” I glance at Bes, his lenses flickering in the firelight. “Both of yours.”
“Unfortunately, any ailments before joining the Order can’t be fixed with the magic, nor can any conditions created from the tattoos.” Bes holds up a hand as I open my mouth to argue. “Believe me, we’ve tried.”
“I’m sorry,” I say quietly.
Cec grins softly. “Water under the bridge, Hawkins. But it means a great deal that you care.”
My attention flicks to Bes, finding him watching me carefully. I don’t respond.
Once we’ve polished off our meals, I half-expect them to leave. But they don’t. Instead, we talk for a long while about inane things, the few good memories of our childhoods, some of the places the two of them have traveled to together for the order.
I catch Bes looking at me, and me at him, throughout the night. Though Cec is in the room with us, there are times I can’t breathe from how intently he watches me.
Eventually, once I’m certain I’m only going to get a few hours of sleep, I kick them out.
Shutting the door and locking it, I extinguish all but the candle on my nightstand. I fall into bed with my clothes still on, exhausted and more than a little drunk.
Laying there, I watch the shadows from the lone flickering candle cast dancing figures across the ceiling. I’ve spent enough of my life sleeping in strange places, but this is different. I came here to escape, to stay alive. To not get captured or killed by God Men and Blackshirts. To find out more about the Amulet of Amun. This isn’t a vacation for me, nor an expedition.
For a moment though, sitting there on the floor, letting myself laugh freely for the first time in a long time… I forgot where I am and what I’m doing. For all its faults, the order has, at the very least, given me a safe place to remain alive for a little while longer. Even if their leader tried to force me into a blood oath.
That’s tomorrow’s problem.
As my eyes flutter closed, caught in the perfect state of blissfully inebriated and bone-tired, I run through all the questions I plan to ask Ansaldo. About the amulet, about my nonna, and anything else I can think of.
But the last thing I think about before sleep takes me is how much I want to kiss Bes Belzoni.
The next morning, I’m woken up by the gut-wrenching sensation of no longer being alone.
Head pounding slightly from last night’s prosecco, I try falling back asleep, telling myself it’s merely a remnant of a forgotten nightmare. Yet I can’t shake the sensation of being watched. I pry open a single weighted eye—coming face to face with a figure mere inches from me.
I flinch back and fumble around for my switchblade, heart rising up my throat in a panic—
When I recognize a friendly face in the lamplight.
“For fuck’s sake, Cec.” I pull the sheets up around me, even though he can’t see anything. “You scared the shit out of me.”
“It’s not my fault you’re so easily startled,” Cec argues. “And that you sleep like you’re dead to the world.”
He gets to his feet, a lit oil lamp grasped in one hand and a key in the other.
“I have good reason when you break into my goddamned room.”
He sighs. “How is it you swearmorewhen you’re half asleep?”
I grimace. “Maybe it has something to do with you entering my room unannounced and waking me from a peaceful slumber.”
He shrugs. “That’s fair. I actually came in—”
