Page 17 of The Immortal's Trick
And fighting it is not an option.
It never was.
7
The applause rollsacross the amphitheater like a thunderstorm. Still holding Lome’s stare, I rise to my feet.
He stands too, shifting close enough that his breath brushes the wisps of hair covering my forehead. “What did you think?”
“Amazing,” I say, breathless.
The world shrinks to just the space between us. I should turn away. Or say something clever. But I don’t. Ican’t.
I just... look at him. Let him see me, raw and unguarded.
And then?—
"The crowd is dispersing," Des’s voice cuts clean through the haze clouding my thoughts. “Let’s try not to be the last on the street.”
Lome turns. When his eyes leave me, I release the breath I was holding.
“Very well,” he says, turning back and gesturing for me to go ahead.
Once on the stone steps, Lome places a steadying hand against my back. I try to suppress the shiver that races down my spine, but the slight flex of his fingers tells me he felt it.
Minutes pass until we reach the exit and spill out into the open street. The crowd’s body heat is replaced by a cool, salty breeze rolling off the sea.
I turn to speak to Lome when a new voice cuts through the din. “Nebet? Is that you?”
My sister and I both turn. My stomach knots instantly.
Benipe.
The wealthy merchant strides toward us like a fattened goat, grinning with too large teeth. My sister stiffens beside me, her face draining of color. I fight the impulse to step in front of her.
Our companions see our preoccupation and follow our stares.
“A friend of yours?” Des asks coolly.
“No,” I say as Benipe takes his final steps.
Nebet merely watches the grotesque man’s approach with clasped hands.
Benipe arrives, huffing slightly. “Nebet. Eshe.” He inclines his head with politeness, but his eyes crawl over Nebet like oil, slick and consuming.
I want to slap the look off his face.
He asks, “What are you two doing out this evening?”
“We saw the play,” Nebet says, her voice barely carrying over the street noise.
“Is your father about?” he asks, ignoring the presence of both Lome and Des.
“No,” I reply, stepping closer to my sister. “These men are our escorts.”
Benipe finally looks at Lome and Des, and his expression sours, no doubt realizing he’s inferior to them in every possible way.
“Lome,” my escort introduces himself, offering a strong, tan hand. “And this is my brother, Des.”
