Page 2 of Inferno
Yorin let out a sigh of relief as it closed behind him, grateful that Mr Fensworth hadn’t been more difficult about things… until the soft sound of a throat being cleared nearly had him jumping out of his skin. He spun around, simultaneously wanting to scold the person for sneaking up on him and desperate to not make a bad impression in front of a customer… until his eyes landed on a shock of black hair and a pair of mischievous blue eyes. And then his heart rate picked up in a way that had nothing to do with being startled.
“Nerik!” he blurted out, thankful that it was just the messenger and not an actual customer. “Oh goodness, you scared me,” he said, taking a deep breath or two. “When did you get here?”
“Just a minute ago,” Nerik said, a smirk tilting the corner of his mouth. “You seemed occupied, so I figured I’d just wait quietly and admire the view. I actually thought you’d realised I was here,” he added, as a sideways sort of apology.
Yorin ignored the ‘admiring the view’ comment. “Sorry, just got a few things on my mind,” he said, not liking being caught unawares. “The gate opens again tomorrow.” As if that explained anything.
Nerik’s easy grin faded. “Yeah. No escaping that one, is there?” He sighed, then just as quickly, shook off the melancholy mood. “I’ve brought you a new roll of fabric,” he said, tapping the roll he’d propped up against one of the display racks. “Right on time, as promised.”
“Oh, fantastic,” Yorin said, crossing the room to unto the leather wrap and peek inside. The fabric was a bright turquoise colour, perfect for summer dresses and for adding a splash of colour to some of his more business-like pieces. “Perfect. Exactly what I wanted. Here, I’ll get the payment…” He ducked into the kitchen, fetching a pouch of coins from a locked drawer. Back in the main shop, he counted them out. “Eight silvers for the weaver,” he said, handing the coins to Nerik. “And one copper for you.”
Nerik allowed his fingers to brush Yorin’s as he took the money. Yorin fought the automatic impulse to pull away. Then Nerik tucked the coins tidily into separate pouches and stowed them in his pocket. “A pleasure doing business with you, as always. Anything else I can do for you today?” As one of a dozen local messengers, Nerik was constantly on the lookout for new chores to do.
“Actually, there is,” Yorin said. “You know Angela? Who’s married to Bril?”
Nerik snorted. “Celebrity wedding of the decade. Yeah, what about her?”
“She’s ordered another new gown.” Angela’s father was a cattle farmer, so she’d been wealthy even before she married one of the most sought-after warriors in the city.
“Isn’t that her fourth one this year?”
“Yep. Heck, if Bril wants to keep paying for them, he’s welcome to do so. But the point is, she wants rubies sewn into the dress, at the centre of each of the flowers I’m supposed to embroider. I’ve ordered them from Kit. She said they’d be arriving late last week, but I haven’t had a chance to get anyone to collect them for me.”
“Consider it done,” Nerik said with a sly grin. “Any excuse to come back and see you again.”
Yorin scrambled to come up with a sensible answer and failed completely. The problem was that he never quite knew what to make of Nerik. He assumed that the man was slightly younger than his own twenty-six years, though he didn’t know his exact age. But Nerik had a boyish charm and carefree cheekiness that had eluded Yorin, even in his younger days. He was outgoing and liked to chat, but at the same time, three and a half years after meeting him for the first time, Yorin could list on one hand the things he actually knew about Nerik.
And his incessant flirting did nothing for Yorin’s peace of mind.
“Thank you,” Yorin settled on finally, knowing he had to give some sort of reply.
But instead of heading for the door, Nerik took a longer look at Yorin, his eyes travelling slowly down over his body… “Is that a new shirt?” Nerik asked. He sounded almost gleeful about the discovery.
“Um… yes, it is,” Yorin said, tugging on the fabric self-consciously. “Just a little something I whipped up in my spare time.”
“Very nice,” Nerik said, letting his eyes linger a bit longer. “It really suits you.”
“You don’t think it’s a bit much?”
“I think it’s absolutely perfect,” Nerik said. There was a wistful note in his voice now, his tone slightly husky, and for a moment, Yorin just stood there, wishing he could listen to it all day. Nerik spoke with a slight accent, though Yorin had never been able to place where it came from, and his voice was a touch deeper than he would have expected for a man Nerik’s size. He was a good six inches shorter than Yorin, with a build so slender that Yorin sometimes thought he might blow away in a stiff breeze.
“So… I’d better go get those rubies, then.” Nerik took a step backwards, but didn’t turn around.
Yorin mustered what little courage he could and said the other idea that was floating around in his mind – something that he’d been working on for the last week. “Oh, um, actually… Before you go, I did have another favour to ask.”
“Anything for you,” Nerik said with a wink.
Yorin felt his face heat. It really didn’t help that Nerik was attractive enough to be fuel for a thousand nighttime fantasies. Yorin cleared his throat and tried to focus. “I made a shirt,” he announced.
“No, really? That’s amazing.”
Yorin rolled his eyes and turned around, heading over to fetch said shirt from the wardrobe sitting against the rear wall of the little shop. “I was hoping you might consider wearing it. And if anyone asks, letting them know that I made it. If you don’t like it, you’re perfectly free to say no…”
He turned around, holding up the shirt he’d made. He couldn’t say he’d specifically made it with Nerik in mind, but as the work had gone along, he’d become fixated on the image of Nerik wearing it. It had taken him four days to work up the courage to ask. And even now, he didn’t know whether his intention was free advertising – albeit at the cost of a metre of fabric – or if he just wanted to give Nerik a gift and needed a pretext to be able to do so.
Nerik’s jaw dropped and he reached out slowly to take the shirt. “Holy shit, that’s gorgeous!” The shirt was a bright maroon colour, with matching buttons down the front, but up both sleeves and down the centre where the buttons joined, Yorin had embroidered a swirling orange-gold pattern. It wasn’t deliberately set out to look like flames, but if one squinted or was looking from a distance, it would be easy to imagine the swirling lines as flickers of fire dancing over the shirt.
Yorin cringed. “I’d completely understand if you think it’s too much.”