Chapter 26 #3
The sound of Nik’s footsteps broke the trance that had settled over me. He came to stand beside me, not close enough to cause my heart to jump, but close enough to let me know that he was there. “Is there anything I can get you?”
I blinked, pulling myself back into my body. “What do you mean?”
“Here in Lucius,” he clarified, resting his forearms on the railing the way I had. “Do you need anything?”
I hesitated. No one had ever asked that without wanting something in return.
What more could I need that he hadn’t already offered?
Was he trying to buy my gratitude? I thought of my fidgeting fingers, and my tattered dress.
Perhaps what I needed was something to do. “I could use some thread, and needles.”
His head tilted. “What for?”
“I need to mend my dress so I can give these clothes back to your sister.”
A faint smile tugged at one corner of his mouth. “They’re yours now. She doesn’t need them. But I can still get you some thread.”
The sincerity in his voice made my chest tighten. I nodded. “Thank you.”
“In fact,” he added, glancing sideways at me, “I could take you tomorrow, and you can pick it out yourself if you’d like?”
A sharp reminder cut through the warmth. “I don’t have any money.”
His green eyes softened. “I can help with that.”
There he was with his glorifying kindness again. It needed to stop. Soon I’d have to sell my own soul just to pay back everything he’d already given. Because if I didn’t, he would hold it over me just like everyone else did.
My jaw tensed. “I’m not a charity case.”
“I know.” No annoyance. No correction. Just calm agreement—like he actually meant it.
I exhaled slowly. “Well, I’d like to be able to pay you back.”
He thought for a moment, then shrugged. “How about you fix the trousers I tore the other day? We’ll call it even.”
I thought he would bat my words away with another dose of generosity that seemed to follow wherever a Lightner went. But he didn’t. He suggested something that I could actually give in return.
Without thought, I flashed him a smile. “Deal.”
The air shifted around me, and my fingers couldn’t stop fidgeting against the railing. Nik remained silent, and I couldn’t help but glance over at him. The breeze lifted his hair, the last of the sunset turning the edges gold.
I let myself study him for a heartbeat—the calm in his posture, the softness in his jaw—then his head turned and our eyes met. My chest jolted and I snapped my gaze away, pretending to care very deeply about the roof tiles across the street.
His voice came quiet, thoughtful. “If you could go anywhere . . ., where would it be?”
I looked at him again, this time holding his gaze, unsure why he wanted to know—unsure why part of me wanted to answer.
It was a simple question, yet it felt like he’d cracked open my chest and stared straight at my raw and beating heart.
“The sea,” I said finally. The word felt small, fragile. Impossible.
Nik’s mouth curved into a gentle smile. “I can take you, if you like. We could fly there.”
My stomach knotted. Wings. Air. Trust. A thousand reasons to say no. I forced a shrug. “Maybe.”
It was a lie. I wouldn’t fly with him, not now, not to the sea. I had to get out of Lucius, and then perhaps I’d walk all the way to the sea myself . . . if that was even possible.
Silence stretched between us. I felt his gaze, warm and steady, but I didn’t dare look back. I wasn’t ready to see whatever waited in his eyes. Especially when the truth was simple and humiliating . . . I found myself looking at him whenever he wasn’t looking at me, and it was frightening.
“Sunlight looks pretty on you,” his voice was soft, gently beckoning. It wasn’t about my body, or the dress I was wearing. No. It was about the light, and for a brief moment, my walls began to crumble.
I froze, my heart in my throat. All too quickly the weight of everything crashed over me and I longed for the safety of a dark, quiet space. What was I supposed to do with all the tenderness he so eagerly offered?
Finally, I looked at him. “If it’s alright with you, I might lie down.”
He nodded. “Of course.”
I fled then, retreating before my voice could betray me. I swiped the key off the coffee table before closing the door to the spare room behind me, locking it with a sound click.
With one foot in front of the other, I dragged myself across the floor. The bed was soft. Too soft. I laid on my side, staring at the wall, thoughts circling like vultures. How was I supposed to repay him? All this food, clothes, safety—mending some trousers for him simply wouldn’t be enough.
I rolled over, eyes catching on the bedside table. The ribbon. The coin. I picked it up, running my thumb over its edge, remembering his voice. “There is a light in you the dark cannot touch.”
I didn’t know whether to laugh or break apart.
With a quiet exhale, I set the coin back down. If it wasn’t enough to pay him back with money or mending. I still had the one thing I’d always used to survive.
The one currency men never refused.