Not a mistake. Rakos grins, slow and sleepy, and it’s even better than his laugh. “Fuck off,” he says, closing his eyes again.
Bellamy laughs, heart thrumming, and slides from the bed.
?
CHAPTER TEN
Rakos
“What did you do in there?” Rakos asks when Bell emerges from the pawn shop, a sizable new coin purse in hand.
They left the nondescript Inn that morning, Rakos unwilling to give another silver to that thief of an innkeeper. He did leave one coin from Ludvik’s purse for the servants, who don’t deserve to be punished for their master’s greed. Before they found a new inn, Bell spotted a pawn shop and said he wanted to duck inside.
Rakos made his own stop at the clothing merchant across the street. His new coat is patched and gray, comfortable and boring. It feels nearly as wrong as his new brown hair.
“I sold something,” Bell replies, tucking the purse away. He looks Rakos up and down, frowning. “I liked your old coat better.”
“You can have it,” Rakos says without thinking about it.
Bell perks up visibly. “Really?”
Rakos hasn’t had a chance to get rid of his old coat yet, and it would be a shame to sell it for a pittance. He holds it up by the shoulders. “Here, try it on.”
Bell shrugs out of his green coat and slides his arms into Rakos’s wyrmskin coat one after the other. The movement brings him close enough that Rakos could count the fine hairs on the back of Bell’s neck.
The gold chain he used to wear is missing.
Rakos smoothes the soft-worn wyrmskin along Bell’s shoulders. The material is warm beneath his palms. “Turn around and let me see.”
The hem flutters around Bell’s knees as he turns.
Rakos expected the black and silver garment to swallow the fragile minstrel, and it’s clearly made for a larger man. The sleeves are too long, and the shoulders slump around Bell’s narrower frame, but Bell wears it far better than he should. The loose fit makes him look like a disheveled, carefree delinquent. Like he just rolled out of bed and threw on another man’s coat.
He looks like he belongs to Rakos, whose throat goes dry.
“How do I look?” Bell asks, lifting his arms.
“It’ll do,” Rakos says, trying to bury the realization that Bell is going to smell like him now. “That’s a heavy purse. What did you sell? A few internal organs?”
Bell tilts his head, sunlight glowing in his hair. “Are organs worth that much?”
Bastard blinks from Bell’s shoulder to Rakos’s. She chirps in his ear, then settles under the collar of his new coat. Warmer than the wyrmskin coat, and far less stylish.
“She likes you,” Bell says with a slight smile.
“Could have fooled me,” Rakos says, as Bastard shoves a paw in his ear.
Bell laughs. There’s a strange new confidence to him today. As if he’s come to some realization or discovered something that straightens his spine and brightens his smile.
Fearlessness, maybe. He isn’t afraid of Rakos at all anymore.
Or maybe Rakos is still dazzled by memories of last night. Water spilling down bruised skin. Even now, Bell is a wisp of a flower, petals spread bright. Far too attractive in Rakos’s coat. Rakos should pluck him before the wind carries him away.
Yeah. Maybe his motives for rescuing Bell aren’t so altruistic after all.
“What are the decorations for?” Bell asks.
Tents and banner poles rise throughout Orthin’s town square. A group of children sits on a pile of barrels, flicking pebbles at a swearing worker. Frowning, Rakos counts the days since his waking and abduction.