Moon Flower

“You must be more careful who you decide to rescue,” Madam Langley had said to the twins when they’d brought him in.

They probably thought they’d saved him from himself. But he was earning an honest wage, same as them, except he kept every penny he made. As if what they were doing was somehow more dignified. He scoffed at the very idea.

Besides, he was not someone to need rescuing, and before he could stop the thought, his pride got the better of him. “Well, I work for myself. I don’t need a middleman to do their bidding,” Galen said, indignant, and Madam Langley tsked as if he were a naughty child. He immediately felt ashamed that he’d insulted her in her place of business.

“Everyone is here because they choose to be. Most stay because they have nowhere else to go, at least temporarily, and I give them a chance to get their affairs in order,” she replied, and he averted his eyes. “That is enough for now. You need sustenance and rest. We can speak more in the morning. For now, I need to attend to our guests.”

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have… I shouldn’t take up more of your time or space. I’m likely well enough to—” He made the mistake of attempting to get out of bed and regretted it immediately, sinking back down with a groan. “I have already overstayed my welcome, and I cannot think of how I might repay…”

“You must first get well before we speak about your repayment for the room and board.” She delivered a stern look, like the one his aunt would give him when she meant to scold him. He settled against the sheets, feeling relieved. A transaction was something he could handle and was well versed in. It was practically all he knew. “Now, as I said, I have visitors who need my attention.”

Shortly after the madam swept from the room, a young lady came through the door with a tray. Her tawny-brown tresses, lighter in shade than Galen’s hair and eyes, was worn in an elaborate braid, and the ribbon swished over the collar of her simple ankle-length dress. “I am Miss Celestine. I brought you something to eat.”

“Thank you.” When he spotted the bowl of soup and bread on the tray, his stomach growled. He was famished.

She helped him adjust his bedding so he could sit up, then said, “I will return shortly, but now I am needed in the kitchens,” and left the room in a hurry.

Galen noted herbs in the broth that he didn’t recognize, but it all tasted so good, he kept shoveling spoonfuls into his mouth as if he hadn’t eaten in a year. And he supposed it was partly true, because before his assault in the alleyway, he’d hoped to find the street merchant. But given the long hours his stomach had remained empty, it was now in danger of revolting unless he chewed more slowly.

With each bite he felt more like himself—stronger too—so maybe there were healing properties in this recipe as well. Once finished, he thought perhaps he might be able to stand and walk toward the window, to stretch and move his muscles.

Just as he’d gingerly made his way to the other side of room to perch on the windowsill, Bellamy came bustling through the door, wearing a white apron similar to Miss Celestine’s.

“Ah, you are doing much better. I’ve come to retrieve your tray,” he said. There was a dusting of flour on his nose. “Tonight I’m assisting in the kitchens. I like to keep busy, or I become restless.”

“You are not partaking…with the guests?” It struck him that they were having an overt discussion about the lewd act of fucking. It nearly made him snicker.

“Certain nights…I don’t feel up to the task,” Bellamy said, his gaze drifting toward the window, the brilliance of the moon making his irises glint like molten gold. Galen wondered if Bellamy was perhaps missing someone out there.

“A-and Azriel?” Galen asked before he could stop himself, stuttering through his question and attempting to hide his deep curiosity. “I, uh, wasn’t quite sure what his role was, except helping Madam Langley with healing.” He sounded strange to his own ears, but Azriel seemed almost like a figment of his imagination, so possibly in his bleary state, he only wanted to check that he was real.

“He assists in the apothecary and with the gentlemen too,” Bellamy replied with a sly wink that made Galen’s face flush hot. He was being ridiculous. He was obviously a bit enamored with the man with the beautiful eyes and talented hands. He’d always admired those who seemed adept at a craft or vocation. Whereas he was only somewhat skilled at drawing, which felt useless in comparison.

Speaking of which, his gaze swung toward the bag resting beneath his bed. All safe and sound.