Page 3 of The Immortal’s Trick (Bound to the Immortals)

The stream behind our house is narrow, but it flows steadily and clean beneath the drooping branches of sycamore and palm. This spot—shaded, hushed—is my sanctuary. Far from Alexandria’s chaos. Far from Father’s coughing. Far from the eyes of those who think they know what’s best for me.

I kneel at the bank, sleeves rolled, knuckles raw from scrubbing linen over a worn stone slab. The chilled water numbs my hands, and I welcome the sting. It gives my mind something to cling to.

I didn’t sleep last night. Not after the talk at dinner. Not after Father dared to speak Benipe’s name like it meant salvation and not my sister’s ultimate sacrifice.

I slam the tunic down harder and scrub.

The creek gurgles and trickles. Birds call in the trees. And then?—

A snap.

A footstep.

Too close.

I whirl before I think, heart spiking. My hand flies to the knife strapped at my waist—the small curved dagger Ani gave me years ago, the day after he pulled me out of the dirt after those boys attacked me. I draw the weapon, metal catching the dappled light.

Light-skinned hands appear first, held up in peace as their owner fully steps forward from the brush. My stomach drops.

It’s him .

The Greek.

The one from the market. The one with dawnstone eyes.

What is he doing here?

I tighten my grip on the dagger. I’ve heard enough stories to know a man approaching a woman in isolation is risky, to say the least.

The man’s arms go higher, demonstrating he’s unarmed. “I am not here to hurt you.”

I blink. His words are perfect Coptic.

“What do you want?” I ask in flawless Greek.

“You speak Greek?” he replies in the language, looking nothing short of pleased.

“Clearly.” My mother insisted that all her children learn the language of so many tradesmen.

“You never know when you may need the knowledge,” she used to say when I questioned the usefulness of the language. “You may marry a merchant and be expected to host business partners from the great nation.”

I frown at the memory. It seems my parents spent more time thinking about my future husband than I realized.

“I have offended you.” The intruder mistakes my frown as being intended for him.

He doesn’t come closer. Good. The air between us is thick with tension, and I’m not entirely sure it’s all fear.

He’s taller than I thought. Broader, too. His features are just as sharp as I remember, but now I can see the stubble along his jaw.

He nods toward my hand. “I don’t blame you for being cautious. If our positions were reversed, I’d do the same.”

I say nothing.

“I saw you yesterday,” he says softly. “In the market.”

He dares a step forward.

I raise the blade higher. “Don’t.”

He stops immediately.

“I just… I have something for you.”

My eyes narrow.

Slowly— very slowly—he moves his right hand toward his tunic. “I’m reaching for something in my pocket. That’s all.”

Every nerve in my body screams to run. But I stand my ground, eyes locked on his movements. One wrong move and I’ll bolt to the open fields and yell for help. There’s no way I could fight him off, but I’m not far from Father’s fields. Surely one of the workers would hear me and offer assistance.

When he pulls his hand free, it holds a familiar object: a small cloth pouch.

My coin purse.

I blink. “Where did you?—?”

“You dropped it yesterday. You rushed off before I could return it.”

I frown. I could’ve sworn I put the item on my bedroom table after returning from the market yesterday. I scold myself for being so careless, especially with money.

I take a step back, still not lowering the knife. “How do you know where I live?”

“I saw you ride away from a shop on a cart. I asked the young man there for your identity.” His lips flatten. “I must say, he was rather reluctant to share the information.”

Ani .

Ani told the handsome Greek where to find me.

“He’s a friend,” I mumble as an explanation.

“He said as much.” The Greek nods. “He even offered to deliver the purse himself. As I did not know of his character, however, I felt it prudent to accomplish the task myself.”

I can’t fault the man’s hesitation. Any other person might have offered to return the money but keep it.

But not Ani.

“Thank you,” I say and reach out a hand.

He inclines his head but doesn’t offer my purse yet. “May I know your name?”

I frown and lower my arm. “Why?”

“Because I am new to Alexandria and do not know many who speak Greek. I would like to make your acquaintance.”

Logical enough. Besides, he did return my purse.

“Eshe,” I say.

“Eshe,” He repeats slowly, as if savoring its shape like something sacred. A shiver courses down my spine.

I swallow the lump in my throat, ignoring the butterfly wings fluttering in my stomach. “And you?”

“Lome.” He lays a hand over his heart and bends at his waist, but his eyes never leave mine. “It is an honor to make your acquaintance, Eshe.”

I tilt my head forward with respect, my heart thumping wildly in my chest. What is wrong with me?

Lome straightens and gestures over his shoulder, back toward my house. “The woman who directed me here, the one from the market, is she your sister?”

Anger blazes in my chest.

Is that why he came all this way to deliver my coin purse? To see Nebet?

I won’t let the Greek anywhere near my innocent, beautiful sister.

“Yes,” I bite out, ignoring the strange pang in my gut, and curl my hands into fists. “Why?”

Lome holds his hands up again. “I was only trying to make conversation. I did not mean to offend you or your younger sister.”

The fire begins to dissipate. Slowly.

“Nebet is older than I,” I say to fill the awkwardness nagging at me for my overreaction.

“Really?”

I nod. “By two years.”

His gaze scans me, curious. “I would have guessed the opposite.”

I bristle. “Why?”

“You carry yourself like… someone older.”

I can’t tell if it’s meant as a compliment or if he’s simply trying to disarm me.

“You’re not what I expected,” he adds.

I cross my arms. “Good.”

His smile deepens—mischievous, not mocking. “I mean that kindly.”

A pause stretches between us. The only sound I hear is the wind in the reeds.

“I am the younger sibling as well. I have two older brothers,” he says quickly, as if eager not to let our conversation end. “Des was with me at the market. Perhaps you saw him?”

I give a noncommittal shrug. He doesn’t need to know how enraptured I was by him and his brother.

My thoughts drift back to the market and the stark contrast the men provided against the drab city background. There’s no way I would’ve missed seeing either of them.

“Do you enjoy reading in Greek?”

I snap my attention back to the man in front of me. It takes me a moment to process the question. “We do not have books at home.”

Those were the first luxury items Father sold.

“What about the theatre?” he asks.

I press my lips together and jerk my head to the side.

That’s all the answer he needs.

“There’s a performance tomorrow night. My brother and I plan to attend,” he says it like an invitation. And I know what he’s about to say before he continues, “Would you like to come?”

I want to say yes.

But I can’t.

“My father would never allow it,” I say instead.

His face falls—not dramatically, but enough to show disappointment. “My intentions are noble.”

I don’t doubt that he thinks they are.

“But I am still a stranger to you,” he adds. “So I understand.”

He offers me a surprisingly formal bow and gestures to the wet clothes behind me. “I’ll leave you to your chore.”

Before I can reply—before I can tell him I’ve changed my mind, that I’d love to go to the theatre—he turns and disappears into the brush.

I stand motionless, heart still pounding, as regret stirs in my chest.

This is for the best.

I have no business befriending foreign visitors, especially handsome ones. It’s asking for trouble. My mother’s fate is proof enough of that.

I glance down at my hands. My empty hands.

My coin purse.

Lome never gave it to me.

I suppose he’ll have to return to finish the task of returning it…

I kneel slowly and pick up a damp shawl, shaking out the clinging bits of dirt. I dip it in the stream as a small, traitorous smile tugs at my mouth.