Chapter 7 #3
His lips quivered, then split into a grin as a low, guttural chuckle tore free. It rolled through me like heat over skin, a feeling I couldn’t name, but didn’t want to lose.
“I’m kidding. It’s Nikolas.”
A smile broke across my lips before I could stop it, a quiet laugh slipping out. But I turned away quickly, not giving him the chance to tease me.
Nik. No longer could I label him, stranger, mysterious man or saviour. Now he was more than just a body . . . he was a name. One I’d likely forget come morning.
Yet when I caught the scent of him as his hand brushed against the thick fabric of my skirts, a warmth bloomed inside my chest. It crept its way up my neck and flooded my cheeks.
No one ever made me laugh—not the real kind anyway. How he’d managed to do it in such a small amount of time was impressive.
Maybe I’d keep his name on the tip of my tongue a little longer.
I turned to look at him, only to find him glancing over his shoulder. I followed his gaze, and that fragment of joy I’d just experienced vanished like a thief into the darkest night.
The regular from the marketplace was following us. Probably wanted to try and force his way into my room, no doubt.
“He’s following you.”
“Yeah, that’s not unusual.” I shrugged, the lie tasting like old copper on my tongue.
Nik shifted closer, the scuff of his boot echoing against the stone. “I could say something if you’d like?”
I let out a hopeless breath, eyes fixed on the Silver Finch, its eerie glow looming in the near distance. “There’s no point. He’ll just return another day.”
He didn’t push further as we walked along, earning a few sideglances from the men who’d already begun to gather in the streets.
I paused at the bottom of the stairs. “You can stop here . . .”
Nik stilled, but his emeralds found me. “Thanks for letting me walk with you, Sapphire.”
It felt wrong hearing that name from him. He’d never paid for me, therefore I wasn’t Sapphire to him. Yet it also didn’t feel right telling him my real name either.
I offered him a small smile, twisted on my heel and headed inside.
Just before I closed the door, I risked one last glance. He stood there, broad and unbothered in the gathering dusk, hands tucked loose in his pockets like he wasn’t ready to leave.
I’d seen plenty of men in my day, but there was something about him that didn’t fit the mold. He looked like he carried all the world’s secrets tucked behind those eyes—yet there was a youthfulness in his face, a softness, like he still had half a lifetime left to stumble and learn.
I clicked the door shut, and let my feet carry me upstairs to my room. I was too drained to socialise. Perhaps I’d eat my dinner there too.
From behind the safety of my curtain, I watched as Nik sauntered towards the regular, their shadows bleeding together on the stone beneath them as the local chimney sweeps began to light the oil lamps above them.
Then his hand was at the man’s throat, slamming him back against the cracked wall like he weighed nothing. I couldn’t hear the words—didn’t need to. The bastard’s eyes said enough: wide, angry, like a dog who’d just had his bone ripped away.
For a heartbeat, I hated him . . . Nik, not the regular. Hated that he could pour all his anger into his fists and not have to count the lashes afterward. He could spit venom, break bones, and still walk away untouched. He didn’t live in a world where you paid for every word, every blow.
He shoved the man aside, just once, for good measure. The regular crumpled against the alley bricks. Nik stalked off, shoulders tense under his coat, boots whispering over the frostbitten ground until he vanished around the corner.
I let the curtain fall back into place, the scratchy fabric brushing my cheek. Enough for tonight. Enough pretending I was more than this.
Unfastening the clasp at the nape of my throat, I dropped my shawl onto the floor and reached for the cotton spool in my pocket. My brow pinched together when my fingers first brushed against something else.
I pulled my hand free, and in my palm lay a small, folded note. Attached to it was a crimson feather. Just the same as the one I’d found on my window sill. The string fell away easily, and as predicted the same inscription was scribbled in ink.
There’s a light in you the dark cannot touch.
A bitter laugh scraped my throat raw. How the hell did it get there? I’d been alone the whole time—or with Nik and I would have noticed him reaching into my pocket.
I crossed the room and dropped to my knees at the waste bin, digging through last night’s ashes until my fingers found the first note. Smudged, but the words were still there. Same feather. Same lie I wanted to believe.
Either someone was really, really good at stalking me, or one of the girls was playing a cruel game. Maybe Cordelia was trying to get a rise out of me so she could tell Kavish and watch me limp around again.
There wasn’t a chance in all of District Five I’d let her have that victory.
I shoved them both in the little wooden box on my dresser, and slammed the lid shut. Out of sight. But not gone.
I didn’t want to look at them—but gods help me, I wasn’t ready to let them go either.