Page 7 of The Immortal’s Trick (Bound to the Immortals)

The applause rolls across the amphitheater like a thunderstorm. Still holding Lome’s stare, I rise to my feet.

He stands too, shifting close enough that his breath brushes the wisps of hair covering my forehead. “What did you think?”

“Amazing,” I say, breathless.

The world shrinks to just the space between us. I should turn away. Or say something clever. But I don’t. I can’t .

I just... look at him. Let him see me, raw and unguarded.

And then?—

"The crowd is dispersing," Des’s voice cuts clean through the haze clouding my thoughts. “Let’s try not to be the last on the street.”

Lome turns. When his eyes leave me, I release the breath I was holding.

“Very well,” he says, turning back and gesturing for me to go ahead.

Once on the stone steps, Lome places a steadying hand against my back. I try to suppress the shiver that races down my spine, but the slight flex of his fingers tells me he felt it.

Minutes pass until we reach the exit and spill out into the open street. The crowd’s body heat is replaced by a cool, salty breeze rolling off the sea.

I turn to speak to Lome when a new voice cuts through the din. “Nebet? Is that you?”

My sister and I both turn. My stomach knots instantly.

Benipe .

The wealthy merchant strides toward us like a fattened goat, grinning with too large teeth. My sister stiffens beside me, her face draining of color. I fight the impulse to step in front of her.

Our companions see our preoccupation and follow our stares.

“A friend of yours?” Des asks coolly.

“No,” I say as Benipe takes his final steps.

Nebet merely watches the grotesque man’s approach with clasped hands.

Benipe arrives, huffing slightly. “Nebet. Eshe.” He inclines his head with politeness, but his eyes crawl over Nebet like oil, slick and consuming.

I want to slap the look off his face.

He asks, “What are you two doing out this evening?”

“We saw the play,” Nebet says, her voice barely carrying over the street noise.

“Is your father about?” he asks, ignoring the presence of both Lome and Des.

“No,” I reply, stepping closer to my sister. “These men are our escorts.”

Benipe finally looks at Lome and Des, and his expression sours, no doubt realizing he’s inferior to them in every possible way.

“Lome,” my escort introduces himself, offering a strong, tan hand. “And this is my brother, Des.”

“An honor, I am sure,” Benipe manages as he clasps Lome’s hand, his eyes straying back to Nebet.

“You are looking well, Nebet.” The words slip past his dry lips.

“Th-thank you,” she returns, her eyes darting from his face to his hands and back again.

Benipe continues to leer at her, desire seeping out of his sweaty pores. He is truly disgusting.

“We should be getting home,” I say. “Come, Nebet.”

I reach for her thin arm, but Benipe’s grubby fingers beat me there. His plump hand locks onto her wrist.

“Please, allow me to escort you home,” he offers, eyes flicking to Lome and Des with smug superiority. “You two are relieved of duty.”

Not in this lifetime.

I open my mouth, fury bubbling to the surface, but Des steps in first. Smooth and disarming, he inserts himself between Benipe and Nebet with quiet authority.

“I would prefer,” Des says, voice pleasant but firm, “to finish my evening with Miss Akil.”

Benipe’s mouth opens, ready to object, but something strange happens. His features slacken. He blinks, once... twice… and drops Nebet’s arm.

“Of course,” he says blandly. “My apologies. How rude of me.”

He stumbles backward and waddles off into the crowd.

I stare after him, stunned.

Nebet exhales beside me. “Thank you,” she breathes to Des, who merely offers his arm with a soft smile. She takes it, clinging to him like a lifeline. I want to follow her, but my feet are cemented to the ground.

How could Father consider Benipe as a suitor for Nebet? He’s even older and more repulsive than I remember. How could anyone subject a beloved daughter to such a fate?

A light touch on my shoulder jerks me from the spiral.

I whirl, fist half-raised, only to find Lome with his hands lifted.

“It’s just me,” he says gently.

I drop my hand. “Sorry.”

“Don’t be. I’m pleased to see you defend yourself.”

My heart thumps.

“Are you alright?” he asks, eyes darting back to where Benipe retreated.

“Yes.” I force myself to pick up my feet and follow Des and Nebet as they leave the main road. Lome can stay behind and wait for the cart alone. I can’t stomach not being near my sister right now.

“I take it that man is not a friend of yours,” Lome states, picking up his pace to catch up. Apparently, he’s unconcerned with waiting for his fancy cart.

“No,” I confirm. “He is not.”

“Nebet’s then?”

“My father’s.”

“Slow down, Eshe. Not all at once.”

I stop walking and take in his teasing expression with a furrowed brow. “What?”

“You’re being very short with your words,” he explains, his smile falling. “Will you tell me why your sister looked scared to death when that man spoke with her? Who is he?”

I sigh. “He’s a suitor. Of sorts. My father favors the match.”

Lome’s brows draw together, but he waits for more. I surprise myself by giving it.

I tell him, not just about Nebet, but about everything .

I reveal my mother’s premature death. How it left Nebet in charge of the household at a young age.

I tell him of my father’s recurrent bouts of illness, our low crop output, and how he’s beginning to press Nebet to make a beneficial match for the family.

“And your father thinks marrying her off to that man will fix everything for your family?” Lome asks.

“He thinks it might keep us from starving,” I say.

He stops walking. “Do you ever go hungry?”

I blink at him. “No. We have a farm. We grow what we need.”

For now.

His jaw clenches. Then he exhales slowly and says, “Good.”

And we continue walking.

Nebet and Des are now small figures down the dirt road leading from the city’s edge to our farm. Lome truly does not care that we left his cart behind.

I glance up at the confounding man, moonlight silvering his profile. Strong, silent, unreadable. I wonder what he’s thinking—if he pities us. If he judges me .

I turn my attention to the passing fields and the crops swaying gently in the breeze, telling myself it doesn’t matter what he thinks of me.

Lies.

The rest of the walk is silent. My heart pounds harder the closer we draw to home. The lantern light at the gate is a beacon, but there’s no sign of Des or Nebet. They must be inside. I wonder if they’re speaking with Father.

I move toward the house to find out, but Lome catches my arm, holding me back.

I turn and suck in a sharp breath.

He’s close. Too close. The smell of citrus and sandalwood fills my nostrils. My toes curl.

“I’m sorry,” he says, eyes searching mine, “for the distress that man caused. Aside from that encounter, I hope you had a nice evening.”

His tone is soft, sincere—a balm to my agitated nerves.

“I did,” I admit with a shy smile. “It was a wonderful evening, truly. Thank you for inviting us.”

“It was my pleasure.” His eyes shine with sincerity. “Please forgive me for bringing the subject back up, but I hope your sister escapes a life with that deplorable man.”

My eyes glisten. “I will do anything to keep her from it. Absolutely anything.”

He lifts his hand and presses it gently to my cheek. His palm is warm and steady. His dark and endless eyes search mine as though looking for something buried deep.

And then, softer still, he murmurs, “You really mean that, don’t you?”

“Yes.” There is no hesitation. There is no person sweeter or more genuine than Nebet. She deserves better than Benipe—better than anything that man could offer.

His thumb brushes a tear from my cheek. I didn’t even feel it fall.

“Those you care for,” he says, “are lucky to have someone as loyal and fiercely protective as you in their lives.”

I don’t know what to say to that.

Those words…his tone… It’s like he sees me. Like he’s seen into my soul and knows the deepest parts of me.

And oddly enough… I like it.