The lanterns illuminate Bell’s tousled hair and sleepy squint. But there’s nothing sleepy about the way he drops to a seat beside Rakos—nearly on Rakos—and rests a possessive hand on Rakos’s thigh. “Hi,” Bell says neutrally. Eyes dancing, Merry retreats to his blanket with Teodor. Rakos’s skin vibrates under Bell’s hand. There’s something so deliberately possessive about the gesture.
