He searched around. “The lamia looked like one of my tutors at Sheltenham Academy. Not identical, or I would’ve realised he was an Unnatural, but it had the same slimy features as him.”
Future occult agents were admitted to Sheltenham Academy at the age of eleven. A brutal training practice would turn them into junior agents by the age of seventeen. Father had told me horrifying stories of having been beaten by his teachers, left in the cold for entire nights, or flogged. Speaking of which, now I understood why my parents had put ‘flogging’ into the contract with Rennie. Father had been raised in Sheltenham. Punishments and threats were something he understood. Female agents were trained in a girls’ college no less brutal.
“What did he do to you?” I asked, as we strolled along the pavement in Via Etnea.
He shrugged. “Nothing the other students didn’t also endure. The usual. Beating, hitting, and whipping.”
Usual? I didn’t like the way he so casually talked about abuse. “But?”
“He was particularly brutal to me.” He clenched his jaw. “I reacted once when he was beating me, and he never forgot it. One night he...” He glanced at me. “I’ve changed my mind. You don’t need to know it.”
“I want to.” I wanted to share whatever burden he was carrying. “We decided to know each other better, remember?”
“Maybe certain things are better left unknown.” He stroked my cheek.
“What did that monster do to you?”
He remained silent for a few minutes. I worried he didn’t want to speak further. His Adam’s apple bounced up and down. “He dragged me out of bed and beat me with a wooden stick until the only thing I could do was kneel in front of him.”
“Oh, Rennie.”
“That’s not all.” His hand shook, and his lips paled. “He said I was weak and pathetic, and if I wanted to be a real agent, I had to toughen up, do as he said, and accept my punishment. And so I did. Only it made me feel even more alone and afraid of him.”
Horror burned like acid in my veins. A flare of anger flushed to my head. “Did you tell?—”
“Of course not!” he said.
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to upset you.”
He pinched the bridge of his nose. “I should apologise. I didn’t mean to be brusque to you. It’s just I’ve never talked about it with anyone, and although the education in Sheltenham is brutal, it’s never been like that. I should’ve reported him, but I was twelve and didn’t want to disappoint my parents by whining about my tutor. So I steered away from him and learnt not to attract attention to myself. I didn’t realise what had happened was wrong until later on when I understood what he’d done to me. I can’t say the knowledge made things better, but...” He swallowed again, a tendon in his neck throbbing.
I cupped his cheek. “I understand. You don’t have to add anything else.”
He nodded. His lips pressed in a grim line, and eyelashes fluttered over his cheeks.
“What happened to him?”
“He was killed by an Unnatural years later. I didn’t shed any tears.”
I wrapped my arms around his neck and hugged him. He held me back, burying his face in the crook of my neck. Something cracked in my chest. Guilt for having ever considered him harsh and cold gnawed at me. Tenderness towards the boy, who had been abused, and a desire to comfort him caused my pulse to stutter. The urge to protect him from further pain surged.
He didn’t say anything, but held me, gripping me close to him. His embrace was nearly painful, but I wouldn’t ask him to release me for anything in the world. We held each other until our breaths mingled, and our heartbeats became one. The hug was more intimate than the fumbles we’d shared, more touching than our passionate kisses, and more binding than a promise of marriage. There was no doubt in my mind or in my soul. I was his. I belonged to this man and his brave heart. I wanted him in my life.
I wasn’t sure how much time had passed when we released each other, slowly and without being able to untangle our fingers, but it seemed the embrace had lasted both too long and not enough. Our souls exchanged a conversation in the hug, more precious than any token of love.
We boarded theSS Florentiain silence, walking hand in hand. His shoulders were hunched, and his head hung over his chest.
I kissed his cheek. “Don’t be embarrassed.”
“What do you think of me now?”
Oh, Lord. He looked like a lost boy, seeking approval.
“That you’re a wonderful, brave man,” I said, kissing him softly on the lips. “And I hope to spend more time in a lovers’ nook with you.”
A slow smirk, not boyish at all but all manly, quirked up a corner of his mouth. “It’s a deal.”
I nodded. “A deal.”
He gave me a quick kiss. “Now, let’s search Oliver’s cabin before he returns on board.”
