“Yet you continued to keep the truth of my magic from me.” My jaw clenched. “Who I am from me.”
“I did,” he said simply. “As you can probably tell, I’m not close with many people inside. The last person I spent much time with was Hellas. But we’ve both changed so much because of Alastair. And after everything I said to him, how it ended, it’s unlikely for things between us to ever be the same.” Bel’s mouth tightened. “It’s been so long since I’ve been remotely close with anyone that I’d forgotten what it was like to look forward to just . . . talking with someone.”
My mouth parted, but I didn’t know what to say.
“I continued to keep the truth from you because I came to realize that you were becoming important to me.” His eyes flicked to mine and there was something in them that made my breath catch. He looked away. “And if I told you what you were, you would have hated me for not telling you sooner. I think a very selfish part of me didn’t want to risk losing what we had.”
A deep groove knotted the space between Bel’s eyebrows, and my anger shifted into something that felt like an ache. I didn’t know what to feel, but I certainly wasn’t ready to forgive him.
“I should have told you everything the moment you came inside,” he said.
“I’ll say.”
“Because of your magic, you became a risk to yourself without you knowing it. A self-centered experiment on my part.”
“That you tried to send home.”
Bel flinched.
Good. At least he felt some remorse. Even though he did it to keep me safe, it still stung. “I hope whatever you offered up to throw me out was extremely valuable.”
Bel grunted and shifted his weight, bringing his face closer to mine. The subtle waft of brass polish along with the salt of his sweat tangled in my nostrils. If I leaned an inch or two forward, our lips might brush.
At the thought, I reeled, furious at myself for thinking it. This was pointless.
“I have to get back.” I attempted to turn away, but Bel’s fingers smoothed around my arm. I tensed at his touch, but he didn’t let go. He forced me to face him.
“Listen. I didn’t want Alastair to discover what you were and turn you into his puppet like he does to everyone else. And now he has.”
“It doesn’t matter. I’m still with Zosa.”
“You’re trapped like the rest of us. You’ll never go home.”
“She is my home.”
As the words rushed forth, I was taken aback by the resoluteness in my own voice . . . and the glaring truth of it. I also knew I couldn’t stand to be here another moment, this near to him. Whatever fragile thing might have been between us felt broken. He was a senseless distraction and I was losing precious time.
I tried to push past him, but his hand dropped from my arm to rest on the crook of my waist. When I gasped, he backed away, like I was a lit brazier. He muttered something incoherent, until he caught sight of my bundle.
“What’s that?” He tugged at it. The parchment poked out and his eyes grew wild. “Which artéfact did you choose?”
I fished the cosmolabe from my pocket and Bel swore.
“You know how it works?” I asked.
“For the most part. Alastair locked me in a room once. He made me hold that thing for hours. I was able to see hints of places skittering on the edges of my mind, but nothing substantial enough to draw a map with. I couldn’t get a good enough feel for it.” His eyes narrowed. “What has he asked you to draw a map to?”
“The signet ring,” I admitted. No point in keeping it a secret. I relayed the catalogue page with the ring’s entry. “The description says the ring can bestow and erase magic.”
Bel muttered a string of curses that would make an old man blush.
“He says he wants to use the ring for good,” I went on. “He thinks if it can bestow magic, it can also gift the long lives of suminaires to normal people.”
“And you believed him?”
“Do you think I’m a complete fool? Of course not. I don’t think he has any intention of giving away magic. But Bel, he threatened Zosa if I don’t draw a map to it.” I stared at my palm, picturing Zosa’s severed fingers. I blinked and blinked, but the bloody image wouldn’t leave me, like it was somehow seared on the underside of my eyelids. Then I pictured that catalogue page, the ring’s entry. “I’ve been thinking . . .”
Bel eyed me, skeptical. “I’m not going to like this, am I?”