Page 1 of Bellamy
Prologue
Bellamy
Many Years Ago…
Sunlight spilled across the water, bouncing off the surface as if it were made of tiny crystals. A ship came into the harbor, and the oarsmen made haste to drop anchor and tie it off at the dock.
I sat on the ground, arms around my knees, and watched them. The chilly air feathered across my skin like an exhale of icy breath. What would it be like to board one of those ships and sail away?
“Wretched boy.” Mother approached me with a scowl, adjusting her clothing. “I told you to stay home.”
“I didn’t want you being alone,” I said, reaching for her hand.
She batted it away. “Enough nonsense. We must return.” She didn’t like for me to touch her.
My arm dropped back to my side, and we turned away from the port. Coins clanked in her small pouch, freshly earned. It was why she’d journeyed to the docks that morning. She never spoke of what she did with the men who paid her so handsomely for her time, and the one time I’d asked, she’d become angry and yelled that I stop asking such “foolish” questions. I never asked again.
But I’d since learned the truth.
Her golden hair fell in gentle waves down her back, and her eyes reminded me of early morning grass, a soft green with golden hues. Many said I resembled her. She said I favored my father though—a man I’d never met. Same hair and hazel eyes.
“He was more beautiful than all the gods,”she’d once told me.“And just as destructive.”
Destructive.
Did that include me too?
Home, to me, was a cramped space in an attic with a small window that looked out over a grassy field and the oak tree I sometimes climbed. Other women lived with us, and some had children as well. The downstairs establishment served food, drinks, and the same type of companionship the oarsmen and soldiers sought from my mother.
“Mariel,” a bearded man with graying red hair said to my mother as soon as we entered. He was a regular customer and friendly enough. His drink sloshed over the side of his mug as he slung an arm across a younger man’s shoulders. “Allow me to introduce you to my nephew. He’s to be wed in a fortnight. Never stuck his prick in anyone, can ya believe it? No one more suited to teaching him than my favorite lass.”
The younger man blushed. “I’m more than capable of figuring it out on my own, Uncle.”
“You want an unsatisfied bride? A man must know how to please his woman. Mariel here will give ya the experience you need. Mark my words.”
“I’ll take care of you.” Mother smiled at the younger man before looking down at me, her eyes going cold. “Go find the other children and play until I’m finished.”
I nodded and went outside to sit beneath the oak tree. The other children played, spinning each other around and laughing. I rarely laughed. I wasn’t sure I knew how to.
Life continued as normal, and the chill of late winter faded into a warm spring. I spent a lot of time outside, climbing trees. And sometimes, when I was alone, I leapt off the branch and released my wings, letting them hold my weight as I suspended in the air.
“You’re just like him, Bellamy,”Mother said when I’d asked before about the scars on my shoulder blades. Yet, they weren’t really scars.“Show no one.”
So I never did.
I had promised I’d keep it secret. That I wasn’t fully mortal. That I had wings and could fly as high as I wanted. I had first noticed them when I was five. I was seven now. Oftentimes, I dreamed of flying away, like a bird fleeing its nest.
But where would I go? I had no one but my mother.
As the sun set on another day, I returned home.
Downstairs, men talked and slammed mugs down on tables. Morning or night, men wandered into the establishment, though evening was when a majority showed. They usually gathered in the main area for a few drinks before finding a woman and disappearing to one of the back rooms.
I searched for my mother and didn’t see her.
“Bellamy,” a deep voice said from a nearby table. With his weathered face and the hard set of his jaw, he’d always intimidated me. He’d been a regular for the past year. “Fetch me another drink.”
I grabbed a pitcher and rushed over to refill his mug. Another man asked for me to do the same to his.
