Breakfast was painfully silent.
Faustine didn’t speak when I arrived at the dining room and sat down to eat. She didn’t speak while we both ate, or rather tried to eat. I wasn’t very hungry. Faustine barely touched her food as well.
I couldn’t keep my eyes off her. My thoughts returned to the ballroom and her song. Even in the sanctity of my own dreams, I couldn’t escape it. Was that the power of dreams I had been told of? She conjured something from the ether that was so real I couldn’t tell if it was a dream or not. I got to hug Father again. And Mother and my brothers were so real too.
But that dance wouldn’t leave me. I felt every inch of it in my being. Those eyes behind the veil burned holes through me. I knew those eyes too well. The desire in them…
“Faustine.” I finally said.
She didn’t respond, instead keeping her face in her food.
“I need to ask you something.”
“There’s nothing to ask.” She shot back.
“What was that last night?”
“A mistake.” Her tone held a familiar harshness. I noticed her hands were shaking.
“Not to me. Please, just tell me.”
“My emotions got the better of me. I overstepped my bounds as your host.” Faustine’s features hardened. Her shaking hand curled into a fist. “I cannot make that mistake again.”
“What do you mean?”
“It means—” She pounded her hand on the table, rattling the plates and cutlery. I jumped back. Seeing me, she relaxed. “It means we will speak no more on the matter.”
I just looked at her, silently pleading for her to tell me.
“Excuse me,” Faustine murmured as she took her cane and left the room.
I watched her disappear into the dark, helpless as to what to do.
The studio too was painfully quiet and empty. I thought that maybe some time doing a simple series of exercises would take my mind off recent events, but to no avail. Nothing struck me as interesting to paint. All I could think about was Faustine. It had something to do with her song last night. Did I do something to exacerbate it? Everything had been going so well. I thought we were companions.
But the dance was something more, I thought as I absentmindedly dragged paint across the canvas. I felt it, and she did too.
I had to ask her about it. “Finley!” I called.
“Yes, young sir?” The servant appeared in the studio frozen in a bow.
“Where’s Faustine?”
Finley wrung his hands. “The Mistress would not like to be disturbed right now…”
“Please, Finley. I need to speak to her.”
Finley sighed. He appeared close to me. “She’s in the library. But you didn’t hear that from me.” He whispered. With a rush of wind, he was gone.
I went to the library. Sure enough, Faustine was sitting by the fire reading a book.
“I figured you’d be here,” I said with a smile. I cringed inside at my attempt at a joke.
Faustine didn’t acknowledge me. The fire blazed and snapped in the gulf of silence.
“Look, about last night…” My words trailed off. I was puzzled over what I wanted to say. “What you showed me was extraordinary. It was unlike anything I had ever seen before. Yours is a truly God-given gift.”
Silence.
“I never thought I would see my family again, or my father for that matter.”
More silence.
I sighed in frustration. My eyes found her book. Would you risk it? I thought to myself. Then again, how else are we going to talk?
I strode over and yanked the book from Faustine’s hands.
“What’s the matter with you?” She squawked, removing her spectacles.
“I just want to talk,” I said calmly, setting the book down.
“I told you that this discussion was over!”
“There wasn’t a discussion to begin with. I tried to ask you something and you shut me out.”
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Faustine rose to her full height and stared down at me. “Do not press me on this, Marius.” She hissed through her beak. Her eyes blazed with white fire.
“Or what?” I asked utterly unfazed. “I thought we were past this.”
The fire in her eyes dimmed slightly. “You want the truth, then?”
My gaze hardened in response.
“The last time I gave my heart to someone, they tore to ribbons!” Faustine brandished her claws. “I was a fool for playing that song to you. And you are a fool for caring about me. Love of any kind is poison, Marius. It turns us into idiots and ingrates and robs us of our agency. They taught me that lesson years ago.”
“Who? Your family?”
“Don’t pretend you know what I feel. You don’t and you never will.” Through her anger, beads of tears were forming in the corners of Faustine’s eyes.
“Well, I’m not them.”
Faustine backed away and turned her back to me. She discreetly wiped her eyes. “Leave me alone.”
My heart was so torn on what to do. I could feel the pain in her voice. I wanted to comfort her hold her and let her know I cared for her. And yet, I knew kind words alone would not mend whatever wound pierced her heart. I obeyed her wishes and returned to my room.
Faustine didn’t show up for dinner. I ate alone in silence with only my thoughts as company.
I cuddled with Doux as I lay in bed. Stroking his tiny squirming body, stared at the ceiling. I thought we were past this. That was what I said. I meant it. The first few nights were difficult, yes, but I felt like I was finally getting to know the real Faustine. I was quite fond of that woman. Was she right? Was I foolish for caring for her?
I kissed Doux and put him on his little pillow bed. I crawled under the covers and shut my eyes.
“Lovesick, are we?” A familiar venomous voice slithers into my ear.
I’m walking down the hall. The Maer materializes out of the darkness next to me. His grin exposes his jagged teeth. It makes my stomach turn.
“What do you want?” I say, trying not to meet his gaze. “I thought you were gone.”
“Trying to get rid of me, are you? I’m not so easy.” The Maer fires back with a laugh. “You can’t get rid of me no more than you can outrun your shadow. So don’t start trying. Besides, is that how you’d want to treat your brother?” He pouted his lip and tried making his asymmetrical eyes as big and innocent as possible.
“You are not my brother.”
“Au contraire, mon Marie. I am duty-bound to always be honest with you. Isn’t that what family is for?” His cold, long-fingered hand clutches my shoulder. “You shouldn’t have trusted her to be honest with you, you know.”
“What are you implying?”
“Just what you’re thinking. She plays a song for you, only you, I might add, then dances you round and round like you’re her little toy, your bodies pressed together in sensual display only for her to pull away and recede. Then she grows cold again. You don’t have to at least think something is going on with her?”
“She’s… she’s been hurt by something in her past. She told me.” I defend.
“But there’s something else that she’s not telling you. Don’t play the innocent with me.”
I grimace. “What else could she be hiding, then?”
The Maer’s face splits into a devious smile. “I can show you.” He replies in a twittering voice. “If you just follow me.”
“You can do that?”
“Hers is right down the hall. Think of me as your spirit guide.” The Maer wags a finger at me, beckoning me to follow.
We walk down the hall. As I follow my doppelganger, I glance around and see no other dreamers present. “Why can we see her dream but not the other servants?”
“The servants can’t dream.” The Maer instantly answered. “They cannot sleep. The spell won’t let them.”
I shudder at the thought as we continue.
We are in Faustine’s room. The large door is closed. I stare at it and fidget uncomfortably.
The Maer smirks. “Don’t be shy. Look inside.”
I swallow hard and crack open the door.
Two voices. One I immediately recognize as Faustine. The other was a man’s voice.
I open the door further. Faustine sits at the edge of her large bed while a very tall thin man dressed in black clothes paces in front of her. Faustine sits with her head hung low, as rigidly as a statue. There is so much fear in her eyes.
“Who do you think you are, vying for this peasant boy’s affections?” The man scolds.
“But Father, please—” Faustine says in a small voice.
“Do not test me, child! You are the one who doesn’t understand. You’ve never understood anything in your entire worthless life! I can’t believe you bear the name De Rosamund!” The man stops pacing and places his hands on his hips. “Well? Do you have nothing to say for yourself? Faustine?”
Faustine continues looking at the floor.
“Look at me when I’m talking to you, child!” The man’s hand shoots out and grabs Faustine’s neck. He forces her to meet his gaze. Silent tears stream down Faustine’s cheeks. “Crying, are we? What else could I have expected from the likes of you?” The man shoves her back. Faustine falls limply onto the bed. “Weak in body, weak in spirit. And to think you had to lie for him to love you. To think you carry the name De Rosamund.”
My mind races. My heart pounds. I do not understand all of what I see. But the sight of Faustine being hurt overrules my better judgment. I barge into the room.
“Leave her alone!” I yell at the man.
“Marius?” Faustine exclaims, sitting up.
The man turns around. He is suddenly as tall as the ceiling. His face is pallid and deeply lined. His hair is jet black and slicked back against his head. Eyes like white fire blaze down at me.
The man’s frown deepens. “Now, Faustine, you will see what your efforts have brought you.” He reaches into his coat and produces a long stick with small holes running down its full length. He raises the stick over his head.
“Father!” Faustine grabs his arm.
Faustine’s father shoves his daughter away and brings the stick down. It whistles as it comes down onto my head.
I shut my eyes and pray it will be quick.
I woke up on the floor. My head pulsed with pain.
Doux scurried to my side and sniffed me. I blinked away stars and felt the back of my head. A large painful welt brushed against my fingers.
My body was wrapped in a web of blankets and covers. It was as if the force of the impact flung me from my bed. That may have happened, considering this place.
I sat against the bedframe, careful of my head wound. I took Doux in my hands and placed him on my shoulder. He nuzzled me affectionately.
I had seen too much tonight, that much was certain. She’d mentioned her father before. Now I knew the truth. And he mentioned something about lying. What was that?
It could be a trick by the Maer, I thought. It could be an illusion conjured by your mind.
But there was an equal chance that it wasn’t a trick. Faustine was lying to me about something. Both possibilities terrified me.
I cradled Doux in my hands as I sat quietly thinking.