Moon Flower

“Bellamy says you were out of bed last night!” Sparrow exclaimed.

Galen inhaled sharply as last night came abruptly into focus, and he felt faint. The gentlemen, the flowers, the moaning behind closed doors… Had he been discovered prying from the kitchens? Miss Celestine did not seem the kind to give him away. Not that he knew her that well, or at all.

But the twins seemed nonplussed, so Sparrow must’ve been referring to Bellamy finding him near the window before Galen had decided to investigate the festivities for himself. And what an eyeful he’d uncovered. He still felt flushed from what he’d observed.

“Are you all right?” Wren patted his clammy cheek with concern in his gaze.

“I’m feeling fine and would love to join you for breakfast.”

It would be amazing to leave the bed he’d felt chained to for days, as well as the room. Though he would always be grateful for use of both.

Speaking of which, the space was mostly empty, which meant he’d slept through the morning routine again, whatever that entailed. He’d been too sick thus far to notice, but it was surprising how respectful everyone had been of his recovery.

Unless they’d been threatened to behave by the madam…or her assistant.

He smiled to himself. He couldn’t imagine the quiet, shy man raising his voice.

That was when Azriel came into view, this time covered by more than the thin underclothing from last night. Galen’s blush only deepened. He was hopeless.

“Will you need assistance this morning?” Azriel asked in a surer tone than the first time Galen had laid eyes on him. In fact, he almost seemed older than his years now; wiser too. He would make a perfectly fine healer on his own someday, if that was what he wished. Suddenly, he wanted to know what the man’s dreams were.

He cleared his throat. “Thank you for asking. I think I can manage.”

Their eyes met and held for far too long, and then Azriel was backing away.

“I’m glad to hear it,” he said, leaving him to the twins, but still watching from a distance as if wanting to be available, just in case.

Once Galen used the water from a basin to freshen up, he felt more like himself than he had in days. He searched in his bag for the clothing he’d arrived in, to no avail. It made him panic, as if they were somehow essential to his livelihood, and Wren must’ve sensed his distress because he squeezed his shoulder in support. “Your belongings were taken to be washed and mended, but we have replacements for you.”

Wren handed him a shirt and pants, similar in look to the plain wardrobe of the others. He was grateful for the clean clothing but also felt conflicted. He did not belong here with these other young men, and it would do him no favors to look the part or lose himself in the process. He would soon be out on the cobblestone streets again—once he figured out what he owed the madam—and would be sure to leave his borrowed attire behind.

Galen dressed, and then he followed the twins out of the room, down the hallway, past the many doors he now knew were used for other purposes. Past the kitchens and vestibule, and into a large sitting room with a stone fireplace, several mahogany chairs upholstered with a damask pattern, and side tables. For the visitors, he supposed. That was when the smell of breakfast drifted toward his nostrils, making his stomach growl.

A long table was set in the center of the room, the other residents were already seated, as was Madam Langley, at the head.

“You look well,” she said as Galen and the twins took their seats across from some of the lads he’d yet to have an opportunity to interact with.

“Thank you.” Galen dipped his head respectfully. “And for all you’ve done to help me.”

“I’m certain there are others more worthy of your gratitude.”

Galen’s eyes swept around the table, from the twins to Bellamy and Azriel. “And I shall be eternally grateful.”

Miss Celestine bustled into the room with a fresh pot of tea, and as she replaced the empty urn on the table, their eyes met. She reddened, her gaze darted away, and Galen stared at his lap as if they’d been implicated in some great conspirators’ scheme. Except he got the distinct feeling Madam Langley would not think kindly of him for spying on them last evening. She was careful with the details of the establishment, which was likely needed to keep everything they did under the auspices of the apothecary.

Galen looked around the room and nodded to the other lads at the table. He noted mostly yellow auras—though nowhere near as bright as the twins’—with other colors mixed in. But he was too distracted to think too deeply about their stories and how they came to be here, as his mouth watered over the breakfast in front of him.