The Experimental Murders (Elysium #2)

Chapter Twenty-Eight

 Three days later, Booker was finally deemed well enough to venture out of the house. Both Daphne and Trinket had been watching him closely to be sure he didn't try to sneak out before then, and though he protested, Trinket couldn't help but notice the dark circles under his eyes and the tremor in his step. And while the tremors disappeared by the time they allowed him outside, the dark circles were still there. Was he not sleeping? Or was this another side effect of the drug?

Despite her lingering concerns, she agreed to accompany Booker into the city center to order Daphne some dresses of her own. She had been borrowing Trinket's since her arrival, and seeing as Daphne didn't have quite the same body type as her, they looked a tad odd. So with Booker's assistance, they took her measurements and set off to the tailor.

"Lord, it's wonderful to be out in the fresh air," Booker said as he walked arm in arm with Trinket.

Wrinkling her nose at the smell of melting snow and sewage, she raised an eyebrow. "Clearly, being cooped up in that house has caused you to lose some of your senses."

"It's warmer, isn't it?"

It was. Winter was winding down, and they were coming to that unpleasant transition into spring when everything was soggy and smelly. And it seemed it was ten times worse in a little city like Tinkerfall, particularly in the slums.

"I think I'll miss winter," Booker said. "Granted, it made chasing after things a bit difficult, but there's something rather invigorating about the frigid temperatures. Don't you agree?"

"I think you're still experiencing some delirium."

He laughed and continued to take in the sights and smells of the city. Trinket smiled. He was truly in his element here amongst the conmen and riffraff. For a man of wealth, he was indeed peculiar.

"Are you ever going to tell Gin the truth about what happened?" she asked as she skirted a mud puddle.

"No."

She raised her eyebrows at his firm and decisive response. "She'll be very angry if she finds out."

He turned his sharp gaze on her. "She won't find out."

His intensity kept her from arguing. "Not from me, she won't. But why are you so intent on keeping it from her?"

Sighing, he turned to watch the passing crowds. "Because she has enough to worry about. She has to fight to survive. She risks her safety to help me. I don't need to burden her any further."

A smile was threatening to spread over Trinket's face, but she held it back. "She's tough. And you know, she's right. She's really not a child."

"Yes, but it's difficult to separate the Gin I know today from the Gin I met two years ago. She was as feisty and fearless as she is now, but—" He hesitated. "But she was still a child. A child who was willing to trade information for hair ribbons."

Trinket's smile would not be suppressed when she saw the warm nostalgia in his expression.

"I respect her and will not coddle her. But there's a part of me that wants to protect her from unnecessary pain," Booker said.

He finally turned to her, wrinkling his brow at her smile. Giving his arm a gentle squeeze, she steered him in the direction of the tailor.

They were greeted by both the sound of the brass bells on the door and the tailor himself. He eyed them suspiciously, but his smile remained intact. Little had changed since their first visit to the shop.

"You're not going to tease me later for my sentimentality, are you?" Booker asked as he looked through the bolts of fabric scattered throughout the shop.