Page 55 of Bound

“I’ve upset you.”

She opened her mouth to deny it. Closed it again. “I don’t...” she huffed out a frustrated breath. “People are rarely kind when it comes to my parentage.”

“Experience,” Braum repeated, and she grimaced.

“Exactly.”

He leaned forward, his eyes gentle, and it made her distinctly uncomfortable. “Would it be so terrible to have some new ones?”

Her throat tightened. “It might. If I choose the wrong person to have them with.” She tugged harshly at her braid before she remembered not to.

Braum hummed slightly. Made no promises that she could trust him. That he differed from the others she’d known. It was a relief not to have to listen to such things. Words meant little. Actions however...

“I should like to hear about them,” Braum said instead. “If you would like to tell of them.”

Her eyes narrowed even as some part of her swelled, warming at the offer. She chewed at her lip, considering. “Do you...” she began, then shook her head. “I don’t like gossip going around,” she tried again. “I don’t... If I tell you things, I cannot even tell you how much of a betrayal it would be if I hear anyone else talking of it later and—”

“Wren,” Braum cut in, his voice firm. “I am not like that. Anything you say to me, it remains here. Just with us.” He ducked his head, trying to find her eyes. “Can you believe that?”

She tapped her finger against her mug, warring with herself. “I’d like to,” she admitted quietly. “I’d like... I’d like someone else to know about them. How it really was.”

He reached his hand across the table. And for an all too brief moment, she thought he was going to take hold of her hand. To hold it in his, and...

Was it anticipation she felt, or dread?

She could not tell.

Not until he pulled it back again and there was a ridiculous sting of disappointment that he hadn’t touched her at all.

“I will keep your stories, Wren,” Braum swore to her. “Keep them safe and keep them private. They’ll still be yours.”

Her eyes shouldn’t well. She’d meant it. She would not forgive him if anything she told him spread about to his people. If word got back to the Proctor, or worse, even beyond...

Was it worth the risk?

It shouldn’t be. It was enough that the truth of it was tucked inside her heart. But he was looking at her so sincerely, and she...

She was weak.

She knew that.

It had been proven to her in ways that hurt even now.

“I...”

She hesitated.

He did not sigh. He did not grow impatient with her. Instead, he pushed the biscuit plate closer in her direction. “I’ll start,” he offered. “Give you something to keep first.”

Her fingers itched to curl about her braid.

She took a biscuit. Promised herself she would make more if... if he meant to come back. To sit at her table and coax stories from her.

Is that what friends did?

“You will?”

“Of course,” Braum declared. “Because it would mean you’re curious about me.” He paused. “Are you?”