Only now do I let tears come, releasing the terror I feel.
Harpoc rocks me in his lap, his arms never easing until I push back after a minute and spot Eser watching us. His eyes are wide where he still cowers, as small as he can make himself, not far away.
I swipe at my cheeks and motion him forward. “It’s okay, Eser.”
The sun shines down on us, the tent is gone. It looks like what I envision a war zone to resemble with unrecognizable shrapnel and red everywhere. There’s a stench that turns my stomach, and it’s not weed.
“Where’d the gorillas go?” I rub my aching wrists as Eser shuffles to a skittish stop beside us, his eyes taking in every inch of Harpoc.
“They won’t bother us again.” It’s all Harpoc says, but his scowl as he sees me rub my arms tells me he’s pissed at my treatment.
“King of Roses,” I say because I don’t know if we’re breaking cover. “I’d like you to meet Eser. He… helped me.”
Eser stiffens.
“Looked like he was doing anything but,” Harpoc replies, a growl in his voice.
The boy bites his lip, then, staring at the ground, says, “I’m… I’m sorry, lady.” It’s the first words I’ve heard out of him.
My heart breaks. “Eser, it’s not your fault.”
He looks over at me, eyebrow raised.
I glance at Harpoc. “Eser, don’t take responsibility for things that aren’t your choice.”
Harpoc tilts his head and I can practically hear him say, “Grasshopper is learning.”
Eser gives me a conflicted look.
“Would you have struck me if Zeki hadn’t forced you to?”
“No. Never. I would never hurt you, lady.” Determination shines in his eyes.
I smile. “I know.”
“Don’t feel bad, then. He would have beaten you.”
Eser slowly nods as if he doesn’t want to agree, then keeps glancing between me and the ground, clearly having a hard time accepting that I’m not mad at him.
A horrific thought strikes me, and I have to know. “King of Roses, did you know they abducted Eser?”
“They didn’t.” His voice is firm.
My eyes go wide.
“His father traded him for pot. To support his habit.”
My mouth drops open.
“You knew?” I push against his chest, wanting nothing to do with someone who would not only condone such a secret, but hide it.
Margo, now this? Betrayal and disgust wash over me, and I try to scramble away, but Harpoc holds me in place.
“How could you agree to hide such a secret? How could you?”
“It wasn’t a secret.” Harpoc tenses, no doubt scorched by the fury in my eyes.
I do a double take, and my voice rises. “How could it not be a secret?”
“It’s true, miss.” Eser squats, still eyeing Harpoc.
“You think your upbringing was hard, Pell.” Harpoc bobs his chin at the boy.
My skin tingles. I can’t get my brain around it. His father sold him for pot, and everybody knew it?
My parents gave me away… because they loved me—it’s what I always tell myself—not to pay for a habit they couldn’t afford, and not to some abuser.
“While I don’t approve, it’s better than him becoming a child soldier, begging, or being trafficked for pornography by the mafia.”
I shake my head. I can’t believe what I’m hearing. Stories like that should only be on the news, not real.
“So what happens to him now?”
“Eser, how would you like to go back to your family?” Harpoc asks.
A smile breeches the boy’s face.
“No, you can’t send him back,” I protest. “He’ll just end up someplace worse.”
Eser’s shoulder’s slump, telling me he knows the truth of it.
Harpoc smiles, then holds up a finger and I furrow my brow.
“Eser, if I could hide you from your father, how would you like to go home?”
That gets the boy’s attention and his eyes open wider. “Could you bring my brother and sister back, too?”
My stomach tenses. His father’s a wretch. Selling other children, too? Castrate the bastard.
Harpoc laughs. “Yes, and I’ll do you one better, I’ll protect your younger siblings from him, too… and no one will ever know. How would that be?”
Eser beams.
But I hold up a hand. “You’re making a deal with him. What are you going to charge?”
Harpoc gazes into my eyes. “What should I charge for keeping him and his siblings secret from their father?”
My nostrils flare. “Not a damn thing.”
Harpoc makes like he’s thinking on it, tapping his lips and tipping his head this way and that. He thinks he’s being cute.
He’s anything but in my book, and I growl, my anger at him and what he allows, getting the better of me.
That stops him in an instant. “I wasn’t going to charge him.”
His long look tells me he knows there’s something more I’m not saying. He’s right. But unlike him, it won’t remain a secret as soon as I figure out what to do about it.
Eser’s trying to play it cool, but he’s practically jumping up and down.
“Before we take him home, Pell, let’s have a look at your foot,” Harpoc says, and guilt again overwhelms the boy.
“Eser, stop. Don’t feel guilty,” I say.
Harpoc takes my foot and frowns when he gets a good look. Between dirt, blood from the rock piercing it earlier, and stripes from that damn stick, it’s a lovely mess.
I wince when he covers my sole with his hand.
Eser’s eyes pivot between me and Harpoc, watching intently as I feel the tingling of Harpoc’s healing penetrate, then soothe my wounds until there’s no pain left.
He does the same to my wrists.
“Better?” he asks
