Page 3 of The Immortal's Trick
Ani beams, clearly pleased. Guilt knots in my stomach.
I don’t mean to be distant. But things with Ani are too fragile now. We’re not children anymore, and if I acknowledge what he feels, whatIfeel, everything could change. And not necessarily for the better.
After a long goodbye, Nebet and I make our way through Alexandria’s maze of stalls and vendors. She keeps pace with me, despite her longer stride.
“I don’t understand why you keep Ani at a distance,” she eventually says.
I keep my eyes forward. “Because Ani’s affection won’t last. And I’d rather not lose a friend when he comes to his senses.”
“You can’t believe that,” she says. “You should see how he looks at you.”
“Stop,” I whisper. “Please.”
I don’t want hope. Hope is dangerous. I’ve seen it destroy lives—my mother’s most of all.
To her credit, Nebet says nothing else.
We’re nearly at the shop when I feel it—a shift in the air, subtle but distinct. A ripple in the noise. As if the crowd itself senses something and moves unconsciously to make way.
Two men emerge from the throng, walking with an ease that doesn’t match the noise and press of the street. Their clothing is strange—bright blues and crisp whites, too clean for the dust of Alexandria. Fine silk tunics cling to broad shoulders, the fabric whispering with each step.
Greeks.
Even from a distance, it’s obvious. Pale skin, sun-touched but unweathered. One man’s curls are slicked back in a careful style. They are clean in a way no farmer ever is. Clean in a way my family has never been.
But it’s not their clothes that stop me.
It’s one of their faces.
His jawline is sharp, cheekbones high, eyes set deep beneath bold brows. His features should be harsh, but they’re not. They’re captivating. Arresting. His lips are full, but not soft. And his eyes?—
Gods.
His eyes are the color of desert stone at dawn. Pale brown, ringed with gold, glinting with something ancient and unreadable. I don’t realize I’ve stopped walking until Nebet bumps into my side.
“What is it?”
I can’t answer. The man is looking at me now.
No—intome.
A thrill crawls down my spine. My body tenses. My heart forgets its rhythm. I try to look away, but I’m locked—caught in his gaze as surely as if he reached out and seized me by the wrist.
It’s a mistake to keep looking.
But I can’t stop.
His gaze holds mine for one beat, then two, then a third loaded moment that stretches long enough to tighten my throat. Then, he smiles. Slow. As if he knows something I don’t. As if he’s amused I haven’t run.
And he begins to walk toward me.
No.
No.
I finally tear my gaze away, the world rushing back with a noise like shattering glass. I grab Nebet’s arm and whirl around, dragging her toward a busier side street.
“Eshe!” she exclaims, stumbling to keep up. “What are you?—?”
