A Gluttony of Plutocrats (The Respite Trilogy Book 1) by Ella Swift Arbok

Author:Ella Swift Arbok [Arbok, Ella Swift]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2017-10-23T23:00:00+00:00

Chapter 13

I sat alone. I rubbed a hand around my neck—my free neck—still afraid although no longer in immediate danger. How must Sy feel? I leaped to my feet and set off at a run. Through all the troubles of the afternoon, I hadn’t once thought of her.

I ran to Bluefinch Avenue. Dempster hadn’t seen her.

What next? I grabbed the scarf and backpack from my bedroom. I had no plan, but two needs drove me: my own safety and Sy’s peace of mind.

I ran through Godbest Park. Sy wasn’t on the boat.

In the unlit cabin, I sat and gazed over the Craggle. The moon’s half disc reflected in the rippling water. I could reach the town center by moonlight, but then where? I couldn’t think.

For an hour, clouds drifted across the sky.

Was there movement on the bench on the other side of the river, where once I had rested and eaten fruit? I moved to the deck and peered again. A slim figure on the bench? Or my desperate imagination?

I screamed Sy’s name. She didn’t move. I tried again. She couldn’t hear me, or she was asleep.

I ran.

The wooden steps of Revelation Bridge creaked as I bounced up them. The boards of the walkway rattled, their sound echoing against the water. I landed on the far pathway, exhausted in body and mind. I called once more.

Sy sat on the bench, her legs drawn up to her chest, her arms wrapped around them.

I called her name again.

She turned slowly and was on her feet by the time I reached the bench. “Lemuel?”

We were in each other’s arms, cheek to cheek.

Sy trembled. “So sorry, Lemuel. I should have thought.”

I took her hand as we set off for the boat. “Not a problem. From the moment I saw Oliver Arkbuckle, I knew I’d be fine.”

We crossed the Craggle. In her cabin, Sy held me at arm’s length, her head tilted. She frowned, first at the floor, then at me. She took hold of both of my hands, placed them on her waist, leaned forward and kissed me—the merest touch—on the lips. “Let’s get it over with, shall we? Shower first?”

Get it over with? Not a dream invitation, but a real one. Shower first? I eased her closer, moving my hands around her back. Don’t rush this, Lemuel. Don’t blow it. “My choice? Shower afterward, but are you sure?”

“No. And if I chicken out, stop.”

Her jaw was clenched, her eyes steady and determined. I had seen that expression once before. A silver frame hanging on her cabin wall held a photograph of eight runners lined up for a mile final. That was the day of Sy’s first world record.

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