Some of the bridles rattled on the opposite wall as the stable door slammed. Relieved as he had been that Ben had acted swiftly, whoever Mr. Holm was, he sounded penitent enough; he sounded completely abashed.
And that was a promise of nothing - there was still no saying what would best obtain his silence - but he was sure Ben’s threats were largely empty (unless they meddled magically with his memory, but after the trouble Ben had gone through with that, it seemed too awful to attempt).
Besides, the young man sounded more upset at himself than anything, so perhaps not all was quite lost yet? Oddly, though the balance was not in their favour, though their whole lives were in danger of toppling from the edge, in this moment it felt like they had a great deal more leverage. So, in spite of the fact Ari had just told himself not to, and that he didn’t think Ben would be best pleased by it, for better or worse, he shifted from the shadows and stepped out towards them both.
“Ben,” he murmured in a tone of warning, with the faintest shake of his head. Here in the light he fancied the young man was hardly more than a boy, small and slight and cowering; there was blood on his face. Ari approached them both, feeling the knot of unease in his stomach quite as though he was signing his own death warrant in doing so - but if the worst were to happen and this all became public scandal, how could he live with himself if he stood back and let Ben take the fall alone?
He pressed a hand briefly to Ben’s wand arm, to silently say enough, but he didn’t dare make any other contact now: that touch alone had felt incriminating enough, even a split-second of it, like touching hot coals.
“It was a mistake,” Ari declared in a false state of calm, his gaze carefully flickering between the two of them, hoping that they could all latch onto that small truth and forget the entire rest of it, agree to say no more. “A simple mistake. I’m sure we’ll all forget it by tomorrow.”
And that was a promise of nothing - there was still no saying what would best obtain his silence - but he was sure Ben’s threats were largely empty (unless they meddled magically with his memory, but after the trouble Ben had gone through with that, it seemed too awful to attempt).
Besides, the young man sounded more upset at himself than anything, so perhaps not all was quite lost yet? Oddly, though the balance was not in their favour, though their whole lives were in danger of toppling from the edge, in this moment it felt like they had a great deal more leverage. So, in spite of the fact Ari had just told himself not to, and that he didn’t think Ben would be best pleased by it, for better or worse, he shifted from the shadows and stepped out towards them both.
“Ben,” he murmured in a tone of warning, with the faintest shake of his head. Here in the light he fancied the young man was hardly more than a boy, small and slight and cowering; there was blood on his face. Ari approached them both, feeling the knot of unease in his stomach quite as though he was signing his own death warrant in doing so - but if the worst were to happen and this all became public scandal, how could he live with himself if he stood back and let Ben take the fall alone?
He pressed a hand briefly to Ben’s wand arm, to silently say enough, but he didn’t dare make any other contact now: that touch alone had felt incriminating enough, even a split-second of it, like touching hot coals.
“It was a mistake,” Ari declared in a false state of calm, his gaze carefully flickering between the two of them, hoping that they could all latch onto that small truth and forget the entire rest of it, agree to say no more. “A simple mistake. I’m sure we’ll all forget it by tomorrow.”
