Page 4 of The Immortal’s Trick (Bound to the Immortals)

The sun shines high over the western fields, casting gold across the dust as I finish hanging the last of the wet linens. My hands work automatically, and my mind is somewhere else entirely.

The Greek’s name echoes.

Lome.

It’s absurd. It’s reckless. And yet, since he disappeared into the reeds, I haven’t stopped thinking about him.

I hear his voice in the hush between birdsong. I feel his presence in the brush of wind against my neck. My body remembers his stare, even when my mind tries to forget.

I glance toward the stream.

No one is there.

I shake my head. What is wrong with me?

Voices trail through the open windows as I approach the front door. I push on the weathered wood. The door creaks open just a crack, and I freeze.

Father is out of bed and sitting in the main room. Ruia and Sab crouch by his feet, absorbed in a game of marbles. Nebet flits through the room, carrying a cup of wine like a servant.

But it’s not the unusual scene that steals my breath—it’s the man seated beside my father.

Lome didn’t leave our land when he walked away from the stream. Instead, he made himself quite comfortable as a guest of my father’s, as proven when Nebet offers him a full glass of our limited wine supply.

“Thank you,” he says, and turns the full brunt of his handsome smile upon my sister.

To Nebet’s credit, she doesn’t lose her sense while under his gaze. With a slight blush, she tilts her head before moving back to sit down across the room.

I push the door open fully and step inside. Every head turns to me. I refuse to meet Lome’s gaze, even though his presence fills the room.

“Eshe, my dear,” Father greets oddly. He never addresses me as “dear.” “We have a guest. I believe you two are acquainted.”

I frown.

“We met today.”

We are not that acquainted.

Lome leans forward, ensnaring my gaze this time. “I realized I did not return your purse,” he says, nodding toward it on the table beside him, where the cloth bag sits. “Rather than bother you again, I came here to return it, and your father was kind enough to offer me a drink.”

His lips lift in an enticing grin and adds, “I was happy for the chance to remain and potentially see you again.”

The last words are in Greek—fluid and soft. My father and brothers don’t understand the foreign language. Ruia and Sab were too young for lessons before Mama passed, and Father never found the knowledge particularly useful for boys bound to become farmers.

Nebet, however, understands every word.

Her eyes widen, and she gives me a questioning look.

Before Father can ask what was said, Lome turns to him. “It is nice to have met someone who can speak my native tongue. I began to grow fearful I would forget it altogether.”

“Surely you speak the language with your brother and other Greeks,” I return, unable to help myself.

Nebet and my father frown, as if my tone is too sharp, too rude.

Lome smiles, unbothered. “Yes, but I would prefer to speak with you.” Again, he says it in Greek.

I will my face to not betray how his words make my stomach clench while Nebet presses a hand to her chest and releases a tiny sigh.

Father breaks the ensuing silence, “Lome tells me he is attending the theatre tomorrow evening.”

I blink, and my gaze flies to Lome’s hazel eyes. Did he now?

“The theatre?” Nebet’s eyes shine with excitement. “Oh, I love the idea of the theatre. The stories, costumes, and characters… It all sounds so fun! Don’t you think, Eshe?” She turns to me.

“You have never been?” Lome asks Nebet, preventing me from responding.

She shakes her head. “No, but I have seen local actors perform plays in the market or on busy streets. I find them very entertaining.”

Lome beams at her, then turns back to my father. “Would it be impertinent, Sir, if I offered to escort your daughters to the play tomorrow? My brother and I could use the company. I promise to keep them safe.”

My skin prickles.

I may want to see a play, but I don’t know what I’ll do if I'm subjected to Lome’s handsome face for an entire evening. I could very well lose my wits and do something foolish.

Like threading my fingers through his thick brown hair and kissing him the way I’ve been imagining since he smiled at me down by the creek.

I swallow down the panic clawing at my chest. I don’t know what to make of this visceral reaction, but I know I cannot endure Lome’s presence and maintain my wits.

But I don’t need to worry.

Father would never allow his daughters to go anywhere with strange men, not to mention a Greek man, not after everything with Mama.

I brace myself for his furious refusal.

But then Father says with a strange calm, “I don’t see why not.”

My mouth falls open. Fever must have fogged his mind.

“Truly?” Nebet gasps, barely containing her excitement. “We can go?”

“I know how much you and Eshe have longed to go to the theatre,” Father says. “I would not deny you the opportunity.”

Nebet throws her arms around him; even weak, he pats her back. I stand by the door, feet rooted to the floor, not quite believing what I’m witnessing.

What is Father thinking ?

“Wonderful,” Lome stands from his chair and reaches around Nebet to shake Father’s hand. “I shall return tomorrow evening to escort your daughters into the city.”

Then he turns to me, winks, and says in Greek, “See you soon.”

And just like that, he walks out the door, gone, leaving me stunned, heart pounding. And unsure if I’m awake or dreaming.