Moon Flower

“As well as they could, I suppose. But I was only one of seven. We were very poor, and I was an encumbrance to them.” He left out the part about stealing food for his empty belly, mortified to admit it.

“You cannot believe that.” Azriel clucked his tongue. “You are quite pleasant to be around.”

Galen felt his skin line with gooseflesh. “You mean when I’m unconscious?”

Azriel chuckled, and when Galen felt the slightest pressure of his shoulder against his own, his heart bloomed like one of the wildflowers in the field.

“I don’t regret leaving Silver’s Keep,” Galen clarified, and he realized how true that was. The feeling of being an inconvenience was not something he would soon forget, and he certainly had no plans to overstay his welcome at Moon Flower either. Just long enough to pay his debt. “I have seen much in my travels that I wouldn’t have experienced otherwise.”

Though going on foot had been tedious and daunting, especially given the elements. One of Galen’s fervent wishes was to tour the countryside by railway, if he ever collected enough currency to pursue that dream. He’d overheard a group of gentlemen discussing the picturesque ride one morning as they met on the sidewalk, and the idea of it left Galen feeling dreamy for days.

“It helps to find the good in things.”

Yawning, Azriel watched Galen sketch a tree near the knoll, and Galen hoped that meant Azriel might finally be able to rest. Now that he knew the reason for his turmoil, it made sense. Yet…not. Something else niggled at his brain from earlier in the day at the apothecary, but he was afraid to ask.

“I too left my home in Willowdale,” Azriel said, and Galen held his breath. He hadn’t expected the confession. “And I also don’t regret it. My father…was not a kind man. And he grew worse after my mother died. I’m certain you would easily read his cruel intentions.”

The need to touch him, to offer Azriel comfort, felt so overwhelming, his fingertips began to prickle. Galen could not find the right words of support, afraid he might sound angry with Azriel instead of for him, so he applied his own pressure against Azriel’s shoulder and felt him tremble.

“All is well now,” Azriel said with a sad smile. “But sometimes the memories still haunt me.”

Galen’s stomach tumbled. “I’m sorry.”

Sometimes seeing the darkness in people haunted Galen too.

Like the man in the alley.

But you followed him anyway.

It could have turned out so much worse if two cherubs filled with light had not come across him. And if the man now beside him did not take care of him too.

“Is there not a sleeping potion that might help—”

“The dreams can sometimes be too much,” Azriel said with drowsy eyes. “It’s why I avoid sleep when my thoughts are filled with unrest.”

Galen waited a long beat to muster up enough courage, then asked, “What else causes you unrest?”

When there was no reply, Galen immediately regretted the inquiry. But then he felt the weight of Azriel’s head loll against his shoulder, and he held in a gasp.

Giving Azriel a cursory glance, he breathed out in relief for the man. His eyes were closed, and he was asleep.

Chapter 9

Galen returned from helping Miss Celestine in the kitchens, then watched from his perch near the window as the men finished preparing for their evening. It involved soaking in a warm bath infused with fragrant oils of their choosing, all from the apothecary, then washing impeccably, and dressing for the occasion—which left little to the imagination, as he now knew.

His nose was overwhelmed by a mix of scents—eucalyptus, mint, something spicy and exotic, and, of course, that familiar floral scent that now defined Azriel. By the time he’d gotten back to the room, Azriel was already freshly washed and nose-deep in one of his potion books. It made Galen smile.

The men were not shy about traversing the room in various stages of undress, likely because they were used to one another and had no qualms or apologies regarding what the evening entailed. Galen never had the opportunity to look at other men unabashedly, and it was a bit heady. But he did not want to stare or plump up from the enticing skin on display, so he decided to sketch to distract himself.

This time it was the town square he drafted from memory. He shivered, recalling how he’d watched Azriel sleep, his own eyes growing heavy. At one point, his head lowered to rest briefly against Azriel’s, before Galen snuffed out the lamp and returned to his bed. But he could not shake how that one moment felt, like he was absorbing all of Azriel’s warmth and letting all his worries drift away on the wind. It was silly to have such thoughts about a man he barely knew, but his mind kept returning to how being around him always felt like an indescribable pull all its own.