“Well, that might come in handy around here,” Oscar said, and they all murmured in agreement. “For example, is Edward going to kill us in our sleep?”
“That’s obvious even without Galen’s foresight,” Bellamy said, eyeing Oscar, and everyone laughed.
When Galen’s eyes landed on the man in question, Edward grumpily rolled his eyes but remained silent, and Galen said, “I think Edward’s prickliness is just…misunderstood.”
He could feel Azriel’s eyes on him, along with everyone else’s in the room, and it made him feel even more under their scrutiny. What did the man with the exotic eyes think of him? He felt almost desperate to know.
“That’s brilliant,” Sparrow said. “I’ll admit I’m jealous of your gift.”
“It’s called synesthesia,” Azriel said with wonder in his tone. “And it can run in families. Or so I’ve read.”
Galen gasped. Apparently, he had inherited his gift from his mother, which made him feel closer to her even though he’d never known her. He’d overheard the information in a whispered conversation between his aunt and uncle, when they’d referred to him as peculiar, just like his mother. It helped explain why they were usually stern and tight-lipped around him.
“Where have you read it?” Oscar asked Azriel. “In Madam Langley’s book of spells?”
Edward scoffed. “She is not a witch.”
“She should call herself one to ward off certain people,” Oscar replied, and again Galen’s interest was piqued.
“What does it matter what she calls herself?” Azriel said in an ominous voice. “She tries her best to help.”
They were speaking in riddles, but as a virtual stranger, he wasn’t privy to that information, nor should he expect to be.
“If only Bellamy would stop stifling his true self,” Oscar said. “He could protect us from horrible people.”
Who did they need protecting from besides the obvious? Their inclinations and this sort of establishment were not looked upon kindly in proper society, nor by the authorities. It was frustrating, really. In Galen’s imagination, everyone’s true nature would be accepted, no matter what. Unless of course they were hurting someone. And no one in this room was, simply by desiring other men. “His true self?”
Edward sighed. “Oscar loves making up stories and filling in the blanks when he’s being too nosy and not getting the details he wants.”
“My theory is that Bellamy is some sort of werewolf. At the very least, he has a drop of lupine blood in him,” Oscar said as Bellamy scowled in his direction and the others guffawed at the absurdity, Galen included. There were no such creatures in existence—except in famous bard tales. “Why else would he be so restless during the nights the moon is most brilliant?”
Wren shook his head. “Perhaps because the moon reminds him of someone special.”
Galen thought about Bellamy’s gaze drifting to the window, as if his thoughts were elsewhere, and he again pondered who it was he missed. That, at least, seemed plausible.
“Oscar is only saying that because Bellamy is secretly betrothed to someone. Or he was,” Sparrow said. “Someone he is trying to avoid by hiding at Moon Flower.”
Bellamy nodded, then averted his gaze.
“We might finally be able to get to the bottom of this,” Oscar said, motioning toward Galen. “Galen can tell you about your beloved.”
“Tell him what?” Galen asked.
“If he has any wicked intentions that might keep them from reuniting someday,” Oscar replied, and Bellamy’s scowl only deepened.
Curiouser and curiouser…
He recalled what Madam Langley had said about fate, and that made him think of the twins, who would sometimes slip into each other’s beds in the middle of the night despite Madam’s rules. It became obvious early on that they were very close in more than one way, but he didn’t question it. He would welcome having someone who understood him to his core.
“Is Madam Langley aware that you are hiding here?” Galen asked.
“Of course,” Bellamy replied. “If you didn’t notice by now, she leaves little to chance.”
Galen was getting that impression by the minute, which was why her absence tonight was surprising. But he had a feeling it was for good reason.
“And you are quite ridiculous with your notions,” Bellamy told Oscar. “I should’ve never spoken to you about Ashwood. If only you would stop pressing me on the topic.”
“Good luck with that,” Edward muttered.
Bellamy turned to Galen. “Ashwood and I…made promises to each other that could not be kept. We were young and enamored, and it was impractical to think anything would come of it.”
Despite his seemingly flippant attitude, there was definitely more to the story than that. Galen could tell by how the blues in Bellamy’s aura had begun swirling and lancing through the greens, like a deep wound, while the undertones of red suggested betrayal, perhaps, or something he was heartbroken and angry about.
“It’s all right,” Wren said. “We’re all hurting about one thing or another.”
The others murmured in agreement, and even Azriel seemed sullen.