Chapter Ten
Bel’s jaw drops with a strangled huff. “What?”
I take his hands. “Move in with me. I live in a building with high-end security, and I have access to top-of-the-line safety spells.” Whatever I can’t buy, Seb and Thio can make.
“Yeah, the cultists figured out that Galaxrien’s descendant is connected to Urzoth’s church, but they don’t know it’s you.
This is still the safest place for you. You’re attached to a”—my throat catches but I quickly swallow—“a high-profile Urzoth public figure. It’s hardly the same as being a random churchgoer.
No one would be able to snatch you away easily.
Instead of abandoning the Urzoth ties, we double down on them. Move in with me.”
I don’t give anyone a chance to speak; I look at Ilbryen.
“I worked for adventure parties in college,” I tell her.
“Not as an adventurer, but answering calls—so I’m in your system, background checked, the whole thing.
Which you probably already know. But you can run another check on me if you need, or douse me in whatever truth potions you’ve got.
I’ll follow any protocols, do whatever you demand.
My training as an athlete helps, too—this isn’t much different from learning an opponent’s plays or what defensive maneuvers I’ll need to utilize. I can do this. Let him stay with me.”
One detail has my chest seizing, and I spin back on Bel.
“If you want,” I say. “This is only if you want it.”
Bel looks absolutely shell-shocked. His black eyes are glistening, those gold irises gleaming.
“You can’t do this,” he says, barely audible. “I—you don’t know what you’re offering. What you’re taking on. People are trying to kill me, and you’d be in the middle of that. I can’t ask you to do this.”
“So you’ll lock yourself away for the rest of your life? You aren’t asking me to do anything. I want to do this for you.”
Tears spill down his face and he shakes his head, but it’s like he’s refuting his own thoughts, his own arguments. “No, no—gods, you just found out I’ve been lying to you! You didn’t even know my real name until ten minutes ago. Orok—you can’t want this. You can’t.”
He pushes his fist against his mouth to stifle a sob, his shoulders heaving.
I touch that fist, pull it to me, and kiss his knuckles. “I do want it, Bel. What do you want?”
His eyes scream you, and his face fills with so much hope, so much need.
But he doesn’t move, doesn’t react until Ilbryen breaks in with, “Belzaroth? What do you think?”
Both he and I whip toward her.
“You—you’d allow this?” he asks, faltering.
She pulses one eyebrow in the barest shrug.
“Mr. Monroe has been vetted by our teams—it’s why we permitted your PR arrangement to continue after you’d agreed to it.
His lifestyle does allow for a level of security our current handlers are unable to provide, and his knowledge of the cultists’ rituals could be beneficial as well.
We would reassign the new handler you would’ve been given to be more of a watch from afar situation, similar to how we watched over you before your full protective custody—but, Belzaroth, that does not mean this situation is less dire.
Merely that Mr. Monroe is an active member of your security team rather than a mere caretaker. ”
“Yes,” I say. “Whatever you need me to do.”
“Plus,” Ilbryen carries on, “it is easier to keep tabs on those we protect if they’re somewhere they want to be.
This option is far better than a … shack in the woods, hm?
Or”—she waves dismissively, like it really doesn’t matter one way or another—“Gulus fires up a memory alteration spell, and Mr. Monroe leaves here thinking you’ve broken up with him before you move away. ”
I stop myself from barking out an argument. It’d gut me, but if that’s what Bel wants, I’ll submit to it.
Tem fumes. “You’re making a mistake. This guy’s untrained. He’s not an adventurer; he’s going to get the target killed.”
“If I were you, I’d be more concerned with your own performance, Raussec,” Ilbryen snaps.
His eyes pulse, face twitching with fury. He seems to realize he’s not just been beaten, but is very likely about to lose his job.
He storms past us and out of the suite, the door banging shut behind him, Gulus’s arcane wall dropping in his absence.
Bel still hasn’t responded. I tug gently on his hand, pulling his focus back to me.
He’s guarded, wary, like maybe this is too good to be true. It gives me enough reassurance to keep trying.
“I want you to live with me. But I also want you to be comfortable with this. I have a guestroom, so you wouldn’t have to—we wouldn’t have to—it could be whatever you want it to—”
He throws himself at me.
I catch him, crushing him to me in a way that has to knock the wind out of him, but he burrows against me.
“Yes,” he says. “Gods, yes.”
I’m grinning like a fool. Like all my obsessive compulsions got exactly what they’re clawing after. Him.
A shudder of concern flurries through me. This isn’t … healthy, is it?
He needs the security I can offer. He needs protection.
He needs me.
And gods, thinking that has my whole fucked-up being sighing happily, all the effort I put into keeping myself at bay losing its footholds against the torrential rush of satisfaction.
Years of fighting to better myself. Years of putting up boundaries and compartmentalizing and being so aggressively good.
It’s all gone because of one impossible situation, one man in my arms who’s become astonishingly important to me.
I should fight it, at least a little bit. I know better.
But something about the way Bel’s holding me as forcefully as I’m holding him has me feeling like maybe this fixation isn’t entirely one-sided. Maybe my consuming, stratospheric-level obsessive behavior won’t be unmatched.
I meet Ilbryen’s eyes over Bel’s shoulder. She nods at me, a small smile on her face, breaking through her icy facade.
Pretty sure this is exactly what she wanted to happen. That I got manipulated.
Fuck if I care.
She pulls her phone out of a pouch on her component belt, checks it, and motions at Gulus. “I am needed elsewhere, but I will be in touch in the next few days with the final details, Mr. Monroe. For now, Gulus will remain as a temporary handler.”
Ilbryen hangs back until Bel slides out of my arms.
He smiles at her, tears leaking down his cheeks. “Thank you,” he whispers.
“For what it’s worth, I am sorry I allowed things with Raussec to get so out of hand,” she tells him, her voice softening.
“We have been short-staffed, and his addition to the team was made out of desperation, not strategy. His actions toward you on top of the leak we now apparently have—” Ilbryen stops, rocks her neck to the side until it cracks.
“Well. Let’s just say we will be tightening things up a bit. Again, I am sorry, Belzaroth.”
He wipes the back of his hand against his face. “Thanks. I appreciate it. Do you—” He falters but catches himself. “You don’t think he’s the leak, do you?”
Someone told the cultists that Galaxrien’s descendant is connected to the Urzoth church now. Would Tem really have been that petty and stupid?
“We are looking into it,” Ilbryen says. “But if he was the leak, the cultists would have moved against you, yes? We will keep an eye on Raussec. For now—” She looks at me, still talking to Bel.
“Do not hesitate to reach out to me if you are mistreated or unhappy. Our staffing shortage is not your burden to bear. Your safety is our priority, and we will be much, much more discerning going forward.”
It’s a threat to me as much as it is a promise to Bel. Tem put them on alert; I won’t get away with shit.
Good—they should be on alert. About damn time.
With a final nod, Ilbryen leaves.
Gulus widens his stance, plants his arms behind his back, and settles in like he’s planning on standing here as long as we’re in the room.
He’s bald and pale, with calculating blue eyes as shrewd as Ilbryen’s, and I know he’s meant to protect Bel, but I find myself pulling Bel closer to me, eyeing Gulus’s sudden intensity.
But Gulus breaks with a pulse of his lips in what must amount to a smile. “I’m kidding,” he says in a flat voice. “I am sure you two wish to talk privately. I will be outside.”
He vanishes without another word. Literally, actually vanishes, leaving a puff of green smoke behind.
Isn’t transportation magic illegal in city limits?
Not my problem.
Bel and I are alone in the quiet main room, but it suddenly doesn’t feel that way, alone or quiet.
Details stack up around me, questions I need to ask and things I need to figure out.
It really does feel like memorizing plays before a game, analyzing all the potential challenges and figuring out solutions:
I need to call Seb. Get him to start laying protective spells on my apartment.
I’m sure Ilbryen or Gulus or whoever they assign will be able to do it, but their whole adventure party left Bel with Tem for months, knowing how Tem was treating him, so their judgment is seriously in question.
I want to build my own quasi-adventure party for Bel, and that includes Seb—but I’ll ask Bel first. It’s his secret, and I want him to know he has control over his protection.
I also need to check with my building, see what it would take to upgrade their security systems.
Bel fidgets in front of me.
I’ve been standing in place, eyes darting over the small square of carpet where Gulus vanished, for at least a few minutes. My eyes fly up to Bel and he’s chewing the corner of his lip, brows pinched, thumb picking at the finger of his opposite hand.
“Overwhelming, huh?” he asks, like he’s fighting to be lighthearted when all he wants is to sob again.
How do I explain that it’s overwhelming in the best way? That I’m voraciously grateful I get to do this for him. That I know he’ll be safe now, and it’s made me buoyant.