Page 84 of Fires of the Forsaken
I sidled sideways, evading his touch.
His smile faded. “I’ll not harm you,” he said.
ButImay harmyou.The thought passed through my mind, though I dared not say it out loud.
He reached for me again.
I moved again.
He frowned. “Do you fear me?”
“Of course not.”
“Then why do you cower?”
“I don’t.” I raised my chin defiantly. This time, when he reached for me, I forced myself to be still. I didn’t breathe, terrified any miniscule movement would send the fire spiraling out of control.
The boy brushed his fingers against my forehead. His hands, despite the clusters of blisters, were tender. Kind.
The touch lasted only a second.
I exhaled, trying not to seem pleased when he put a distance between us again. And it was only after relief seeped into my muscles that I realized my knee was no longer aching.
“You’re a Healer!” I gasped. Terrick had told me of the Healers—the most coveted hybrids in all of Sakar.
The boy waggled his fingers. “I am…unfortunately.” He huffed and swiped a lock of hair out of his eyes. “Now, tell me, did the sobbing only beginafteryou injured your knee? Or were you weeping for joy upon hearing my music?”
“Weeping for joy?” I scoffed. Of course, his melodies had brought me close to tears, but I thought it best not to inflate his ego further.
“Don’t worry, you aren’t the only girl in Darfield to find herself overwhelmed while watching me play.” He grinned.
The boyreekedof arrogance. But there was gentleness in him too.
He was aggravating.
And yet, I laughed. Something I hadn’t done for many months. Not since theincident. “Perhaps I wasweeping,”I giggled, “because your ham-handed playing made my ears bleed. Have you considered that?”
The boy chuckled and leaned toward me, a devious glint in his eye. “I don’t believe you would’ve been so quick to intervene on my behalf if you found my playing‘ham-handed.’” His eyes twinkled. “Your pig-squealing was intentional, was it not? To warn me?”
Again, I raised my chin, reluctant to admit the truth. “I had to do something to drown out your wretched playing.”
He threw his head back with a guffaw. “Either way, you’ve given me time I wouldn’t have otherwise had to myself. And I think I’ll use it to help you.” He winked. “I heard you had a run-in with Beda. Mad old woman. Convinced children are creatures sent by Ramiel to destroy her merchandise. I,” he thumped his hand against his scrawny chest, “can get the creamy cheese you seek. But I’ll not be doing it for free, mind.”
“And why not? I helped you without expecting repayment.”
“Ah, so you’re admitting to helping me!” His eyes glimmered.
“Well,” I cleared my suddenly parched throat, “did you not say my pig-squealing gave you time to escape?”
“It did. But then you insulted me, so the good deed has soured a bit. Hence why I’m still willing to help you, but at a cost. If I succeed,” he pursed his lips, “you shall come watch me play again,withoutthe sarcastic banter. Tomorrow night, at Elton’s tavern.”
“And if you fail?” I raised my eyebrow.
“Then you, dear lady, shall still come watch me play, but you may make all the delightful sarcastic quips you’d like.” He held out his hand. “Have we a deal?”
I laughed again and almost placed my palm in his without a second thought. But a glint of silver, caught between my index and middle finger, drew my eye. The last remnants of my precious coins, melted into a crevice.
I hesitated, drawing my hand back. “I don’t have any coin to offer her. Or you.” I curled my fingers into a fist, hoping he wouldn’t see the flecks of silver.
