But then he glanced up, his gaze capturing mine. I was unable to move. Or even to breathe. I became a clog in the constantly shifting foot traffic, as people bumped and crowded me.
In broad daylight, away from the darkened shadows of the club, he appeared even younger than he had in my memories. I doubted he was much older than I was: eighteen, perhaps nineteen. His eyes were intense, and I again had the feeling that I shouldn’t be meeting them directly, that I ought to look away. Yet they were as deep and mesmerizing as they were alarming. And I was spellbound.
I tried to find those feelings again, the one Cgaihaps nins from that first night, the trepidation and imminent danger that had forced me to flee from the club when I’d heard his friends speaking. But somehow, standing here in the bright sunlight of the marketplace, I was unable to recall them. And the longer I stayed there, my eyes locked with his, the harder it was to imagine that I’d ever felt them at all.
I was afraid of him, and my heart beat entirely too fast inside my chest, but not for the same reasons that I’d been frightened that night.
He stood from the table as I approached hesitantly, and I tried to read his expression, but just like the night before, it was impossible to interpret.
I frowned. “What are you doing here?” I asked when I finally reached him.
His eyebrows raised just the barest degree, making me feel things I had no business feeling as a rush of heat surged through me. But I refused to let him see how he affected me.
“I came to see you,” he answered far too easily.
“I guessed that much.” I crossed my arms as I glanced around to see if anyone was watching us. I wasn’t ready to answer prying questions from my parents. I lifted my chin. “Why?”
“You’re not one for conversation, are you?” He studied my expression, and I could see amusement flickering just behind those charcoal eyes. Eyes that I’d spent far too much time imagining. But I wasn’t amused. At last, he exhaled loudly. “Honestly, I’m not exactly sure why I came. I probably shouldn’t be here at all. But you intrigue me, and I had to see you again.”
“You saw me last night, but I didn’t intrigue you then. You barely noticed me.”
Max hesitated, frowning. “That’s not true. I noticed . . .” He lowered his voice as his hand slipped to my arm. It was a quiet warning. “You should be careful about who you keep company with.”
I raised my eyebrows, daring him to finish his thoughts, but he didn’t need to; I’d noticed the way he looked at Xander. “Is that why you pretended not to know me?” I wrenched my arm from his grip.
He took a step closer, and my ribs crushed my heart, threatening to stop it from beating. I wanted it to be fear, and that’s what I told myself it was, that I felt threatened by Max. But I knew better, I knew it was something more. And then he surprised me by softly asking, “Why did you leave so early that first night?”
I was afraid to speak, but he just stood there, waiting. I tilted my head back, so I could meet his stare. I wavered, trying to decide how to answer him, and then I simply said, “I wasn’t feeling well.”
He gazed down at me, and I had the strangest feeling he knew I was lying. But he only sighed, a reluctant smile pulling at the corners of his mouth. “Will you walk with me?” he asked at last.
It would have been easier to answer if I could breathe, and if my pulse would stop fluttering so wildly. I shook my head, unable to stop staring. “No.” I finally trusted my voice. “I need to get inside. I have work to do.”
“What are you so afraid of?” He said it so tenderly, so gently, that I almost didn’t realize he hadn’t spoken in Englaise. Yet it wasn’t Parshon, either, which was the only other language I could have responded to.
I’d heard those sounds—that dialect—only one other time, that night at the club, when his friends had spoken about Brooklynn.
And the law was clear.
I blinked once, keeping his dark gaze in view for an instant too long, and then I dropped my head. This time my heart crashed within my chest for entirely the right reasons: fear, terror, dread.
“I don’t understand what you’re saying.”
I prayed that he believed me. He reached across, inching my chin up so he could look at me.
There was a scowl on his face, or was it something else? I wished that I could decipher his expressions as easily as I’d translated his words.
And that was when we heard it—the cheer coming from the square at the center of the marketplace. An execution.
I didn’t move, didn’t blink.
But Max did. He flinched, as violently as if he’d just been slapped in the face. And then his eyes filled with such sadness that I felt like he was reading my most private inner thoughts.
The thoughts that said, How can anyone celebrate such an event? Why would anyone want to be there to witness it?
It was the reason I avoided the central square each and every day.
I glanced around, nervous that someone might have seen his reaction. The law didn’t dictate that we show joy at such an event, but it was best not to draw unwanted attention by showing revulsion, either, not with so many citizens willing to turn on one another.
After all, whoever had just been hanged in the square was considered a criminal—an enemy of the queen, possibly even a spy.
Or maybe just someone who refused to look away in the presence of a language that wasn’t her own.
His hand reached for mine, his fingers grazing the sensitive skin at the back of my hand where the hand stamp was still healing. “Are you sure you won’t change your mind and walk with me? I’d really like to get to know you better. I think there’s more to you than just a pretty girl with a sharp tongue.” He smiled fully then, his eyes crinkling—boyishly charming. I did my best not to notice.