Page 87 of Mongrel
Bowie reaches up to touch my ear. “You’ve lost your hat.”
I flick my ear toward his fingers. “I needed to be able to hear as best I could. Guards appeared from every corner. I tucked it into my pants, but it must have fallen out.”
“I like the way you look without it. Your ears are beautiful. You’re beautiful. My Andras.”
My cheeks warm under the praise.
We share a kiss.
“Gross.” Cecily sits up from her makeshift bed.
If my cheeks were warm before, they’re burning now.
Bowie plucks a piece of hay from her curls. After all this time, her clothes still smells faintly of mint. I’ll never eat a mint candy again without thinking of her.
“Kissing isn’t gross, young lady,” says Bowie. “Take it back.”
“I will not. It even sounds gross.” Her gaze shifts from Bowie to me. “Why, Andras, your ears really are beautiful. I thought Bowie was just being weird when he said that.”
Whoops. I should probably find another hat.
“Are they wolf ears?” She furrows her brows. “Why do you have wolf ears?”
Bowie handles this. “There’s a possibility I haven’t been entirely honest with you yet, my darling niece. I’ll have quite a lot of explaining to do on our journey home.”
“Home. I want to go home.” Cecily’s inquisitive expression turns to anguish. My heart aches for her. “When do we leave?”
“Soon.” He strokes her hair. “I promise.”
Her eyes fill with tears. “I want my mama.”
Bowie opens his arms, and she flies into them. “I know. Me too. We’ll see her soon.” He settles her onto his lap and rocks her. She’s too big for this, but it doesn’t matter; they make it work. “You’re safe now, Cecily. I’ve got you.”
She cries into his shoulder, quiet sniffles and achingly sad sighs.
We’re still huddled together sometime later, when Janos arrives to check on us.
“Is she all right?” Janos asks Bowie.
Cecily lifts her head from Bowie’s shoulder and nods, wiping tears off her cheeks with the back of her hand. “Who are you?”
“I’m Janos, milady, Bowie’s brother.” Janos bows, then takes a seat on the opposite hay bale.
Cecily cocks her head and scrutinizes him. “That would make you my uncle. Why have we never met?”
Janos looks delighted at this, but Bowie shuts it down quickly. “Janos isn’t your uncle. Remember how I told you I had much to explain? Remind me to cover that too.”
“I will.” Her little voice comes out clear and unshaken.
I can’t believe her strength. I’m in awe of Bowie’s entire family.
Janos looks to Bowie. “The other girls are safe, asleep together in the wagons and ready for departure. Petru, Daniel, and Tamas will drive the wagons out come dawn. The girls with no family will go to Matyas in Vienna, the nobles’ and merchants’ daughters back to their homes scattered throughout the Kingdom of Hungary. Ivaz and I will watch over them at night.”
We’re sitting so close I feel Bowie’s relief as tension releases from his muscles. “Thank you, Janos. I owe you.”
He waves this away. “You owe me nothing, brother. You and Andras will take Cecily yourselves?”
“Yes, of course,” says Bowie without a second’s hesitation. I doubt he’ll ever let her out of his sight again, though I’ve no idea how a girl of only twelve will make the journey all the way back to Varad. I suppose we’ll need a wagon ourselves.
