Page 18 of The Immortal's Trick
“An honor, I am sure,” Benipe manages as he clasps Lome’s hand, his eyes straying back to Nebet.
“You are looking well, Nebet.” The words slip past his dry lips.
“Th-thank you,” she returns, her eyes darting from his face to his hands and back again.
Benipe continues to leer at her, desire seeping out of his sweaty pores. He is truly disgusting.
“We should be getting home,” I say. “Come, Nebet.”
I reach for her thin arm, but Benipe’s grubby fingers beat me there. His plump hand locks onto her wrist.
“Please, allow me to escort you home,” he offers, eyes flicking to Lome and Des with smug superiority. “You two are relieved of duty.”
Not in this lifetime.
I open my mouth, fury bubbling to the surface, but Des steps in first. Smooth and disarming, he inserts himself between Benipe and Nebet with quiet authority.
“I would prefer,” Des says, voice pleasant but firm, “to finish my evening with Miss Akil.”
Benipe’s mouth opens, ready to object, but something strange happens. His features slacken. He blinks, once... twice… and drops Nebet’s arm.
“Of course,” he says blandly. “My apologies. How rude of me.”
He stumbles backward and waddles off into the crowd.
I stare after him, stunned.
Nebet exhales beside me. “Thank you,” she breathes to Des, who merely offers his arm with a soft smile. She takes it, clinging to him like a lifeline. I want to follow her, but my feet are cemented to the ground.
How could Father consider Benipe as a suitor for Nebet? He’s even older and more repulsive than I remember. How could anyone subject a beloved daughter to such a fate?
A light touch on my shoulder jerks me from the spiral.
I whirl, fist half-raised, only to find Lome with his hands lifted.
“It’s just me,” he says gently.
I drop my hand. “Sorry.”
“Don’t be. I’m pleased to see you defend yourself.”
My heart thumps.
“Are you alright?” he asks, eyes darting back to where Benipe retreated.
“Yes.” I force myself to pick up my feet and follow Des and Nebet as they leave the main road. Lome can stay behind and wait for the cart alone. I can’t stomach not being near my sister right now.
“I take it that man is not a friend of yours,” Lome states, picking up his pace to catch up. Apparently, he’s unconcerned with waiting for his fancy cart.
“No,” I confirm. “He is not.”
“Nebet’s then?”
“My father’s.”
“Slow down, Eshe. Not all at once.”
I stop walking and take in his teasing expression with a furrowed brow. “What?”
