Page 95 of The Fake Divination Offense
“And he’s far too nice,” Bel says, talking to Seb and Thio, but looking at me. “And I’m taking awful advantage of him. I expect you to hate me. Iwantyou to hate me, because then it means you’re looking out for him, andsomeoneshould be looking out for him. I just ask that you help, not for me, but for him. So he can be safe, too.”
He releases a shuddering breath and sways, face pale, before he faces Seb and Thio again. I don’t know where he finds the strength; he’s had his entire world flipped upside down in one day, and he’s still standing.
Pride swells in my chest.
“You probably have questions,” Bel offers, his hands open.
Seb and Thio are still frozen by the couch, wide-eyed and silent. Seb’s focus shifts from Bel to me, and I’m not sure what my face is doing exactly, but he must read some micro expression that has him nodding conclusively.
He shares a look with Thio. Who kisses Seb’s cheek and dips around him.
“We need food,” Thio says.
I blink out of my stupor.
Shit. When did Bel last eat? We didn’t stop for anything after we left HQ.
“Gods, sweetheart.” I touch his arm. “You must be starving.”
He frowns, his hands clenching again. “Um. What’s happening?”
“I’m making dinner,” Thio says, puttering around my kitchen, pulling out ingredients. “Any food restrictions?”
“N-no,” Bel stammers. “What—”
Seb flops back down on the couch. “Pasta?” he calls to his fiancé.
“Duh.”
“You’re the love of my life.”
Thio glances up at him with a wink.
Bel leans closer to me. “They heard what I said, right?”
I could kiss Seb and Thio for their reaction. Like it isn’t a big deal, like it’s any other life update; none of the shouting accusations or anger Bel was clearly expecting.
“They did,” I promise. “Come on. Let’s have a seat.”
I tug him toward the matching white armchairs by the window, but when he goes to take his own chair, I pull him into my lap.
As Thio cooks, Seb tells me about a project at his lab, and the mundanity of it has Bel relaxing into me, bit by bit.
By the time Thio serves us each a bowl of steaming fettucine alfredo, the concrete-level tension in Bel’s muscles has bled out and he’s nestled back against me.
Seb catches my eye when he notices, and I shoot him a grateful smile that he returns.
“So.” Seb swallows a bite of food and shoves his glasses up his nose. “Galaxrien Vossen, huh? That sucks.”
It’s a testament to the empathy in Seb’s tone that Bel doesn’t stiffen.
He stares down into his bowl, stirring the noodles. “It really, really does,” he whispers. His gaze locks with mine and his face softens. “Less so recently, though.”
Thio smiles, his shoulder resting against Seb’s where they sit side by side on the couch. “Sounds like there’s a story.”
Bel gnaws on his lower lip, a question in his eyes. I smile encouragingly.
He blows out a breath and tells them everything that’s happened the past twenty-four hours. Well, the PG parts, from the cultist attack in the news to the visit from Ilbryen, Gulus, and Tem. Bel also gives a brief summary of what living with Tem was like, but he’s quick to gloss over any actual details, maybe sensing the way it’s my turn to stiffen at the mention of Tem.
