Page 19 of The Immortal's Trick
“You’re being very short with your words,” he explains, his smile falling. “Will you tell me why your sister looked scared to death when that man spoke with her? Who is he?”
I sigh. “He’s a suitor. Of sorts. My father favors the match.”
Lome’s brows draw together, but he waits for more. I surprise myself by giving it.
I tell him, not just about Nebet, but abouteverything.
I reveal my mother’s premature death. How it left Nebet in charge of the household at a young age.
I tell him of my father’s recurrent bouts of illness, our low crop output, and how he’s beginning to press Nebet to make a beneficial match for the family.
“And your father thinks marrying her off to that man will fix everything for your family?” Lome asks.
“He thinks it might keep us from starving,” I say.
He stops walking. “Do you ever go hungry?”
I blink at him. “No. We have a farm. We grow what we need.”
For now.
His jaw clenches. Then he exhales slowly and says, “Good.”
And we continue walking.
Nebet and Des are now small figures down the dirt road leading from the city’s edge to our farm. Lome truly does not care that we left his cart behind.
I glance up at the confounding man, moonlight silvering his profile. Strong, silent, unreadable. I wonder what he’s thinking—if he pities us. If he judgesme.
I turn my attention to the passing fields and the crops swaying gently in the breeze, telling myself it doesn’t matter what he thinks of me.
Lies.
The rest of the walk is silent. My heart pounds harder the closer we draw to home. The lantern light at the gate is a beacon, but there’s no sign of Des or Nebet. They must be inside. I wonder if they’re speaking with Father.
I move toward the house to find out, but Lome catches my arm, holding me back.
I turn and suck in a sharp breath.
He’s close.Tooclose. The smell of citrus and sandalwood fills my nostrils. My toes curl.
“I’m sorry,” he says, eyes searching mine, “for the distress that man caused. Aside from that encounter, I hope you had a nice evening.”
His tone is soft, sincere—a balm to my agitated nerves.
“I did,” I admit with a shy smile. “It was a wonderful evening, truly. Thank you for inviting us.”
“It was my pleasure.” His eyes shine with sincerity. “Please forgive me for bringing the subject back up, but I hope your sister escapes a life with that deplorable man.”
My eyes glisten. “I will do anything to keep her from it. Absolutely anything.”
He lifts his hand and presses it gently to my cheek. His palm is warm and steady. His dark and endless eyes search mine as though looking for something buried deep.
And then, softer still, he murmurs, “You really mean that, don’t you?”
“Yes.” There is no hesitation. There is no person sweeter or more genuine than Nebet. She deserves better than Benipe—better than anything that man could offer.
His thumb brushes a tear from my cheek. I didn’t even feel it fall.
