Pierott's Muse
Chapter 1: Attenuation
“Nalieze, come.”
The lantern sleeves of my dress drag along the marble floors as I turn to the very man beckoning for me. What little bit of peace this veranda holds seems but a fleeting dream with eyes resembling cool metal piercing through me. Had I ever had peace to begin with? Everything seems so distant with the vast sea before me as I stand on this balcony. I don’t know when I’ll be able to have the opportunity to view the sea from such an altitude again. It was so very dizzying and captivating all at once; I found myself getting lost in such lovely serenity.
As if Count Aredine’s word had been nothing more than a whisper, I keep my back to him while allowing the moon to enchant me once more. If I am to be forced to enjoy such a night, the least he could allow me was the pleasure of enjoying it in blissful solitude. My side was left cold as he went to speak with another Countess nearly an hour prior, leaving me to my lonesome and to get some much-needed fresh air.
“Did you hear me?”
Each step this man takes carries with it a perfect rhythm as he approaches me. He trails a gentle hand down my bare shoulder, an involuntary shiver warming me as it finds a home on my back. There is little I can say as he begins to guide me to the ballroom.
As any gentleman would, he holds the door open and allows me to step before him. The sound of laughter, play, and music slaps me in one harsh breath. Lights dance from the ceiling, cascading like waterfalls down to the guests before disappearing like snow upon the slightest touch. Each elite masquerades around in their finest wear as their facades keep a grin to their faces and timber in their laugh. A mist covers the room in a film that keeps each of their heads in the clouds. Whimsical is hardly a word I can use to describe how ethereal this estate is with its gleaming grandeur halls, luminescent alcohol, and sickeningly charming socialites.
“It’s too beautiful,” I mutter underneath my breath.
The violins carry each man and woman as they dance through a routine I know nothing about. Those that choose not to dance remain on the side with fine banter to keep their souls fervent and alive. Of those that found that dancing and talking don’t quite suit them, they simply watch- observe in quiet groups, afraid to look like a rogue loner during such events.
How vain these decorated people are.
He leads me to a smaller group, one with Counts and Countesses I had only seen in passing when they visited the estate. As if presented to the fine couples, I curtsy in an attempt to show a semblance of respect before lowering my gaze to the ground and taking my place at his side.
“Well, she’s been quite hard to track down, now hasn’t she?” A frown comes full force as Lady Lavine’s high pitched voice speaks of me. “I’d sworn she up and left soon after arrival,” she jokes. I can hardly find the humor in her words.
Since arriving at the Daimure Estate, the little bit of energy I had before entering had been drained and I had avoided large groups in turn. Crowds have a way of suffocating me, as if each guest has a hand wrapped around my throat. The few people I know at this ball seem to be of kind blood, but that neither calmed nor settled the ill feeling bred when at such gatherings.
“We don’t want a repeat of last time,” Lady Lavine says as she holds a gloved hand to her face to cover her coy giggles. “Would hate for her to cause another scene.” How kind of her to take joy in my previous fainting spell. During the last gathering, I had caused a ruckus by becoming ill early on in the evening and was not too keen on repeating the same affair.
“Her constitution is a bit weak, though she’ll grow accustomed to such events.”
“Oh never mind that. Her dress is absolutely fascinating, it fits her like a glove.” A woman no older than myself speaks. I had yet to remember this Countess's name though I had heard quite a few rumors about the activities she partakes in outside of marriage. “Not chilly in the slightest with the autumn wind blowing?”
I look down at the cleavage I have showcased for the world to see. I hardly had the breath to waste on such offhanded compliments with my ribs being crushed by said dress. She was one to talk with the back of her corset stopping just before her tailbone, inviting every man to trail their eyes down to her assets.
“My fiancée chose this garment.” While I am not allowed to fight back, she will at least be put in her place after speaking down on Count Aredine’s choice of clothing.
Despite not being a fan of such garments, anyone that looks at me would assume I was made of money. My soon-to-be made sure I was dressed from head to toe in only the most expensive of luxuries. He would not allow himself, nor I, to be viewed as anything less than prosperous.
The blood rushes to her cheeks as she struggles to cover her coarse words. “And quite the taste you have, Count Aredine. How are the Westielle’s business transactions going?”
“Just fine, thank you.”
All talk of me forgotten, they begin to speak about things I had no footing in. I focus on the rise and fall of my chest as I attempt to slow the pace of my racing heart. The music was much too loud and the people louder. My heart pounds out in a rhythmless beat as their voices grow louder and louder in my head.
Not again.
This feeling was all too familiar as the floor would become a dear friend once more. With nails digging into my skin, I turn careful eyes to Count Aredine, conveying one simple message before leaning against him for support.
His hand is gentle as he caresses the soft of my back before I feel myself being nudged forward in front of the group.
“My dearest fiancée has offered to play us a tune.”
The couples surrounding me engage in delight as they talk amongst each other.
“Oh, he said she would! ”
“We are all so excited to hear.”
“It must be just as beautiful as the Count bragged. Like a lullaby!”
Their attention imposes on my very being as I trail my gaze to him. I knew the rules after playing this game for the last three months. It would do me well not to forget them.
A cold numbness drapes itself over my skin, overriding my system and causing my mind to shut down. There is no refusal nor look of betrayal that can grace my features. Words fail me, leaving my hands to do the talking. Not far from where we stood was a single piano meant to be played and had with. In an uncanny beat, I take slow steps to the piano, begging and praying that the Gods will remove me from this situation.
I take my position in front of the velvet seat before carefully maneuvering my dress in order to sit. The orchestra tapers into a diminuendo, one in a quest of dying down as my hands fix into position. And just like that, the room grows silent, and each guest, patient. These dreadfully terrible people have the audacity to give patience for some sort of performance to fill their ears. Either to serve as something to make a jest at or speak of for the rest of their evening.
As any performer in a circus does, they perform as best they can. My hands fight against each other as they dance from black to white and black again, taking my soul to another realm with each dance step. One where I am truly loved by my fiancée. Where I needn’t force myself to engage with such company. Where I am free to my own devices and no one else's but my own. The melody carries me away just as I can feel all traces of myself fleeing. For now, I’ll allow myself to play on and on. Each note. Each key. The perfect melody. A tune soon to become these awful elites favorite lullaby.
The euphony was simple, simple enough for me to play through muscle memory alone as my eyes drift closed. To these acclaimed and esteemed people, I was the great Count Aredine’s fiancée. A prize to be shown off as I was not allowed to be any less beautiful than the rarest flower, any less talented than the most gifted, and any less docile than every young woman combined. And due to the simple fact of my existence, I play and don’t stop until the last crescendo is given.
Back rigid as stone, I stand and give one single curtsy, signaling the end of my piece. I can’t help but focus on the floor as quiet applause erupts on my behalf. Hushed whispers start to talk about my being Count Aredine’s and how he’d done right in choosing someone with such swift hands. That being the only redeemable quality that makes me worthy of wedding.
I look past the crowd and land on the charismatic grin my dearest gives to me. His act is on just as mine is and continues to be. In a similar fashion, I return his sweet look with soft eyes and a tender smile full of love and pure adoration. Awws and coos of how charming we are resound throughout the crowd. How dare he make me a spectacle for these people. I was nothing more than damaged goods for him to flaunt around as he pleased. I knew this. These people knew this. But most importantly, he knew this and would continue to use this knowledge to his advantage any time he could.
I must pretend to be beautiful for these socialites. I must remain quiet to earn their praise. I must be a good woman and soon-to-be good wife, to make every man jealous that I am not theirs, as well as every woman in the vicinity jealous that Count Aredine had not chosen them. I must pretend.
Once the orchestra strings strike their ravenous tune, I walk away from Count Aredine, away from the crowd and the orchestra’s mischievous melody- away from it all. My blood has long since chilled and is now gentle embers coursing through my veins. His shoes trail after mine as I can hear the rhythm of his pace on the marble floors behind me.
Breathe. My teeth grit against one another as pain sets in my jaw. It is difficult to calm myself. I don’t know where my feet will carry me but I have to get away. I wander down a narrow hallway and have no intention of letting him believe I was lost like I was in my escape to the exit. Before I can travel far, my fiancée wraps his hand around my upper arm and pulls me into the nearest room.
“Have you no shame?” I yank my arm out of his grasp.
To intrude into another man’s personal space as his guest was distasteful. Litters of books fill shelves around us as the vast room spread out, the smell of cedar wood invading my system. The immense library holds a different air to it with its dimmed lights and gentle ambience. I feel even smaller than in the ballroom now that it is just the two of us. The Great Count and his little fiancée.
He scoffs. “The rooms are made for our pleasure.”
When hosting such balls, the estate becomes the attendee’s home until the waning hours of the morning. Free to do as they please, most stay in the ballroom out of respect and hope for those not to run through their estates when the roles are reversed. Some liked the intimacy provided by being alone in a room and of what came from being left to their own devices. Few often scurried around out of curiosity and to learn more personal details about the host. Others simply liked to drink and fuck and found it all the more enticing in another man’s home. Then there was me and the man of my dreams. Using the library to cut at each other’s throats.
I glower at him. “You’ve embarrassed me.”
“Embarrassment is a color you wear well.” He places a hand behind my head, gently running his fingers through my curls. “Don’t grow accustomed to it.”
“Why did you tell them I would play?”
“Because I wanted to.”
Even after all of these months, I cannot quite place the actions of this man. He knows no limit when it comes to his wants and desires. Humble to any onlooker, he prefers to have others speak of his wealth and honor rather than sing of them himself. Tonight was no different as his most precious possession has just shown dozens how she will play him to sleep when he suffers through his insomnia.
“I will not be treated as property.”
“I’m afraid you don’t have a choice.” The stained glass eyes I’d once been smitten with narrow into broken shards on my fragile frame. “I am never unreasonable with my requests and you are treated better than any queen. If I am ever to ask something of you, I expect it to be done without being glazed in hesitation.”
In this moment, I hate him. I hate myself more for allowing him to speak such truths. He has never raised a hand to me, he wouldn’t dare. He hasn’t spoken a single ill word of me and is constantly giving me praise whether I am in his presence or not.
Like the fall breeze, his gentle tone forces me into submission. “Is that understood, Nalieze?”
“Yes.”
With my answer given, eyes colder than the sea of Uera bear down on me. Count Aredine is pleased with his latest win. The only thing I can do is stand and let him bask in it.
“The next time I give you a command, it would do you well to do as instructed the first time unless you want your father to hear of this.”
At the mention of my father, I meet his gaze, allowing the hatred to burn a rim around my eyes. Nothing more needed to be said. “Understood.”
The end of his finger presses into my chin as he forces me to look at him. “You’ve become wane and feel faint, so I’ve set you in one of the rooms to rest.” With a simple kiss given to my lips, he pulls away. “You’ll stay until you’re feeling right.” Another chaste kiss and then his departure soon after.
I approach one of the bookcases before running my hand over the rough spine of a book. There is no point in seething in anger and I was more than glad to be rid of his presence. My nails skim against where his lips had touched mine. “How can such beautiful actions be done with such cold intentions?” Such intimate acts mean nothing to me anymore. I’ve come to learn that a man can act in this accord with no meaning behind it.
“I was going to ask the same question, little witch.”
Chapter 2: Timbre
I keep my back to the voice, attempting to control my racing heart with the sudden realization that I am not in this library alone.
Given the incessant nature of these party dwellers, it comes as no surprise that one would be lurking around the bookshelves’ corners. Curse these damned elites with their noses turned up ready to sniff through another’s belongings. Surely this man was no different as he came to snoop through this study to find Gaia knows what. With as much grace as I can muster, I take a single breath to mask my irritation and turn my attention to where I believe the voice to have come from.
Deep sunken eyes come into view as who I assume to have spoken rounds a nearby bookshelf. The silver of his collar chain subtly glitters under the dim library lights as he looks down at me with eyes that speak far more than the pages before me. One thing is quite clear with the way he allows pity to settle in his light brown gaze. Every bit of conversation with Count Aredine had been heard.
“I beg your pardon?” I address him. My words weigh down with heavy warning for him to take caution with what he chooses to say next.
For the first time since arriving at this ball, I am offered a gentle smile. “I’m sorry if I misspoke.”
My cheeks warm to a rosy shade at the thought of such an intimate conversation being heard by another. “Which you have.” I don’t take kindly to eavesdropping and it was very unkind to do so in such a blatant manner. “Lurking is quite the rude activity to engage in.”
“I was here first and it wouldn’t have bode well for me to appear during such an interesting discussion. I’m not a lurker, nor an eavesdropper. I simply came to catch my breath before you barged in. The door was unlocked, meaning I’m free to roam anywhere in this estate, just as you can and have.” Coming to the understanding that his excuse was poor, his eyes dance to the side in earnest thought. “What would you have done if in my place?”
I press my back to the hard of the shelf, lolling my head to the side to catch him out of the corner of my eye. It is hardly a question that needs to be asked. “Nothing, absolutely nothing. I would’ve stayed quiet out of consideration for the participants of the conversation so as to not make things gauche. Just as you have now done.”
A playfulness to his voice, he states, “Quite the sharp tongue to accuse me of being inconsiderate when I was acting out of consideration. And I find this far from gauche seeing as we are now engaging in our own interesting conversation.”
Silence fills the room, only ever the odd creak of old mahogany sounding softly in the library. I am an extension of Count Aredine, anything I say will serve as a reflection of his character. If I embarrass him or utter one too many distasteful words, I can kiss any semblance of social standing goodbye. I’d spoken far too much as it is, to a man I am not promised to at that. Would this man tell my fiancée that I’d spoken back to him? A new pain nestles itself in my chest at the thought of putting up with Count Aredine for these last few months only to have it go to waste. If I apologize now I might be able to salvage myself.
Before words of regret can be given, a gasp from my lips come in turn.
Light.
The brightest of golden rays, much like in the ballroom, parade in his hand, shifting from form to form of silhouettes dancing in a waltz similar to that of the elites in the grand room outside of these library walls. He seems captivated by the illusions himself with his wide eyes, as if the light is not of his own doing. I wish I could give myself the pleasure of being mesmerized by such beauty, but instead, I am stricken with panic.
“Dear Gaia, have you gone mad?!” I am quick to grab his hands and stop his actions, effectively breaking the illusion and seizing all wonder.
Every guest knows the rules. No magic in the estates. If there was ever a thing these socialites truly did love to do, it was to outdo one another in any area they could. Appearance, wealth, trinkets, magic. Magic users are much too sensitive- too emotional when it comes to how they’re viewed in society. Those emotions often took the form of rage, anger, and fury when feeling slighted or that their pride has taken a stumble. One too many chandeliers had been broken at these balls with magic flying and falling around in heated debate. For the last ten years, a very clear rule had been established that at these grand balls specifically, there was to be no magic unless conducted by the owner of the manor and their staff if given permission. It is considered highly disrespectful to even think about using magic, let alone to actually follow through with the idea. The perpetrator would face a hefty fine and possibly even prison time if caught.
More so intrigued by my expression, he tilts his head and furrows his brows. “Have I?” He offers a downward curve of the lips, far from pleased with my behavior. “Are you simple enough to truly believe we are the only ones doing magic here?”
“There is no we,” I correct. “I have done no such thing and refuse to be an accomplice to this.”
“I’m sorry if I’ve…frightened you.” He couldn’t quite place the word for my reaction. “I just assumed a little magic would calm you since you seem a bit on edge.”
“It was wrong of you to assume so. I am not one for breaking rules in another man’s home.”
The man leans against the bookshelf, shoulders hiked high slowly lowering in a heaved sigh. “You would be lying if you said you’ve never broken a single rule before, correct? What makes my harmless rule-breaking different from any rule-breaking you’ve previously done?”
Appalled at the man before me, my eyes widen at his audacity. Most party dwellers had the exact same mentality. They can do no wrong and are absolutely always in the right. Any explanation I could give this man would fall on deaf ears. I would rather save my breath and stay out of trouble.
Very calmly, I turn my back to him and trail through the aisles of books, hoping to rid myself of the dead weight and wasted time. Much to my dismay, I can hear the soft tapping of shoes after my heels as if a duckling chasing after its mother.
I swing on the tips of my toes with a strangled hiss and glare at the very man before me. “Why are you following me?”
“I’m not too fond of gatherings, though I’d rather not spend a large portion of my evening alone. One person as company is perfect. I find it to be just enough if I’m honest.” He takes one step back as if assessing the situation, a frown of sorts shrouding his face in apparent shame. “However, my intentions are not to cause you any stress or discomfort. If I have in any way, I apologize. I can take my leave if that is what you wish.”
What I don’t need is another man that I can’t understand bothering me. Count Aredine has done well enough in that department. All the same, I’d be lying if I said my interest wasn’t piqued by this raven-haired man. There is something genuine and authentic in his voice that I can’t quite place with his words. It feels unfamiliar after receiving glossed-over remarks with synthetic smiles at each of these events. To see a man wear such a shameful expression brought me an odd sense of satisfaction. It was a very rare occurrence if one ever did make the mistake of letting it show.
I feel a little less embarrassed about the pity I had earned earlier in exchange for his shame. I would be here for Gaia knows how long with Count Aredine endeavoring to teach me a lesson. Who exactly would it harm to humor myself with the man before me? I won’t say I need company to manage through the night, but not wallowing in my thoughts and disdain for said fiancée may make time pass slightly quicker. Better this shameful man than one of the Counts or Countesses damned set on keeping their guise strong all night.
Rather than answer in words, I neither confirm nor reject him. I search the shelves once more for any book to distract me as I wait for my fiancée to return.
“Let’s say you haven’t broken any rules a single day in your life. Do you think less of me for my reasoning in trying to do what I thought would ease you?”
His light brown eyes clash with mine as I make it apparent that I am not a fan of this conversation. If he continues to take the discussion in such a direction, I am more than happy to give him my shoulder for the rest of my stay.
Do I truly believe this man to have had my best interest in mind? Possibly not. It was such an odd thing to do, let alone say that he had done for my benefit. I’d more so believe if he’d done it out of attempts to amaze me. If he had used basic magic by means of impressing me or showing off, it was done in poor taste. However, his tone was much too gentle for me to not at least consider his words to be plausible.
“I apologize,” he states once more. It was his turn to grace me his shoulder as he holds out his hands before him. “It may have been to calm myself if anything. It seems I have fumbled this conversation. I’m not the most articulate amongst the people here.”
As if giving no regard to what had just transpired, he maneuvers his fingers almost mimicking the legs of a spider as blue and yellow sparks flicker between his fingers. This time, I watch carefully, no panic or intention to stop him. The length of his fingers extend in what at first seems like random movements, but upon closer inspection, shows them hitting certain points before light bubbles from the tip of each finger to the next in near rhythm. As if to a song I had yet to hear, his hands dance a magical waltz. Why are his fingers so different from mine when I play the piano?
Quickly dropping his hands to his side, he kills his illusion and gives a sly curve of his lips. “No rule-breaking tonight, I’m afraid I must apologize once more.”
“When someone is truly sorry, they do not repeat the same mistake,” I say as I pull a small book from the shelf. The navy of the book’s spine contrasted against the gold lettering caught my attention almost instantaneously. “You said you use magic as a method of comfort?”
“To some extent, don’t we all?”
“Not all of us.” There is slight sorrow in my voice as my tone drops an octave. Magic never was an easy topic for me to dabble in. Living in a community where people did nothing but live, breathe, and dine in magic was suffocating to suffer through.
His gaze slips to the book in my hands, unable to camouflage the discomfort at the sudden gloom I’ve welcomed to our conversation. “Are you a fan of Azragian perennials? You can only get them in the neighboring country past the Uera. You won’t find them for miles around.”
Confused by the sudden change in chatter, I tilt my head to the side. “Azragian? I’m afraid I don’t quite know what those are.”
The man shifts the book forward as he trails a finger underneath each word. “Azragian perennials,” he says slowly.
My cheeks heat with mortification as I place the book back on its shelf. What a fool I must look to have chosen a book on design alone rather than of pure interest. What can I say to cover for my blunder? I can’t even begin to imagine what my fiancée would have done had I embarrassed him in such a way in front of the others.
“I didn’t look at the title, only the spine.”
“But you don’t know what they are right?” He persists.
Was he trying to embarrass me further? I allow silence to settle between us rather than repeat the obvious. He takes the book from the shelf with mild excitement. A sudden shift to his melancholic demeanor, rays of sun in his eyes widening ever so slightly. “Look,” he tells me nearly forcefully. “They’re absolutely beautiful. This book probably won’t do them justice.”
He flips through the pages as if searching for something, only stopping once reaching a page full of nothing but perennials spread out with small letters at the bottom. His hand hovers over the image for a few seconds before he moves his fingers in fastidious and jaunty movements, eyes scrolling the bottom of the page with haste. Rising from the parchment, the same gold and blue that had once danced between his fingers breathed life into the flowers as they stretched and bent with fictitious gusts of wind.
“It’s an enchantment book,” I state breathlessly.
While these types of books were growing popular day by day, I have never had the luxury of seeing one in action, or even the pleasure of holding one for that matter. For a few minutes, we just stand and stare at the foreign flowers before us. The colors were in a deep navy blue with gold accents interlaced to give dimension. I’ve never heard of the Azragian lands but if they could grow a field as so, the land must be truly different from where we reside with our artificial flowers. Just how blue is the sky in these lands?
We stare for a while longer before he brings the book to a slow close and gives me a smug look that begs for praise. “Beautiful, right?”
“I actually don’t find flowers to be beautiful. Quite hideous and unappealing in fact,” I answer honestly. The idea behind a field of flowers growing was beautiful, the actual execution was a bit beyond me when I think of tending to them though.
He grows silent for a few seconds before saying, “I’m quite fond of these flowers, you know.”
At first my back stiffens at the thought of offending him, but soon after his confession, his lips curve and laughter spills out in folds. I can’t bring myself to join him in laughter, but I can’t hide my smile at the strange man. Not all, but most of the elites were stuck up and would’ve felt insulted had I spoken so bluntly in front of them. It was refreshing to hear authentic laughter not directed at myself. This feeling felt foreign but rejuvenating. I don’t believe I’ll need to bite my tongue or hold my breath in front of this unorthodox young man fortunately.
“I believe it is my turn to apologize, I have yet to ask your name, sir.”
“I was wondering when you would.”
“It would not have done you any harm to announce it if you realized that I had forgotten to ask. ”
“Did you not want to rid yourself of me just mere minutes ago?” He asked as if the reason for his secrecy had been clear as day.
“Well, one can change their mind can they not?”
Taking my hand in his, he plants a gentle kiss on the dorsal side of my hand before offering a bow of respect. “Shorai.”
“Count Shorai?” I test on my tongue.
His name certainly is not from this area based on the sound of it. His blood must be somewhere from the west lands if I have to take a guess.
“Shorai,” he stresses.
Regardless of how intrigued I am by this man, I have no intention of dropping civilities. I don’t even do that with my own fiancée. There is no reason to address him so loosely.
“It’s a bit late for formalities. However, it’s a pleasure to meet you, Count Shorai. Countess Nalieze,” I say with a single curtsy.
“I’ve known of your name since you’ve come.” At my questioning glance, he hesitates, but continues, “I overheard that man address you as so earlier.”
It takes every ounce of my being to keep from showing my disdain at his rehashing of my previous talk. “That man was my fiancée.”
Count Shorai’s face is straight with eyes set forward, no indication of beginning to speak or if I had even been heard.
Many things cross my mind as I wait for him to talk. His silence has come most unexpected, I have to wonder if he has had any dealings with Count Aredine to suddenly become mute. I have never seen this man at our estate since moving in and I surely haven’t seen him on the travels I have made with my fiancée.
“Can I overstep my boundary, Countess Nalieze?” He asks as he finally turns toward me.
“That quite depends. You can overstep, it does not mean I will meet you halfway.”
I lean against the bookshelves once more, curious as to where the conversation is headed.
“I heard how he spoke to you.”
“Must we speak of this?”
He smiles as he follows my lead and stands beside me with his back to the shelves.
“As you said, you don’t need to meet me halfway with an answer. I’m simply speaking out of curiosity and nothing more.”
“Continue.”
“Despite not being fond of people, they do interest me.”
“And?”
“I understand why some of the people perform out there,” he states as he motions to the great overarching doors of the library. “But why do you?”
“Well, I’m no different from them in that aspect. I have just as much to gain from keeping a mask on all night. The only difference is that I have just as much to lose as well.”
“I saw how you looked at him as he spoke to you.”
I thought it to be only Count Aredine and me in these confinements, surely my facade slipped and fell during that time. He has a way of picking and probing at me in the smallest of ways to get a reaction out of me each and every time. At first, I would let him speak to me in any which way because that is what I was told to do. The once pure adoration I had for him soon became disdain and the more I showed it, the more it pleased him. That was my first mistake as he has done everything to keep such an expression on my face since.
“And?” I ask after some time.
“If the hands of time could reverse, would you let them?”
I trail a slow gaze to him, though he keeps his eyes trained on the bookshelf in front of us. “What kind of question is that?”
“It’s one that requires a yes or no.”
It’s not that I haven’t thought of such a thing before, I think about it quite often in fact. Who wouldn’t when placed in my position?
“No, absolutely not. When I think of what my life could’ve been without Count Aredine, I realize I would never risk going back in time to find out what that life could’ve been, even if given the chance. Who's to say I would not end up in a much worse position?”
“That’s fair,” he says with a nod of his head. “And the future?”
“What of it?”
“Would you set out to change it if you could? You don’t know what your future holds with your fiancée.”
“Just what are you asking, Count Shorai?” I ask wearily. “Must I remind you as you have just stated, I am promised to.”
“I’m simply asking if you were to have more say in your future, would you take that opportunity?”
The creaks of old floorboards sound once more as I think about his question. Thoughts of the past and what I could have or should have done differently have always been on my mind. The end result is that there simply wasn’t anything that I could have done differently to put me in a better position than what I am in now. The future and what it brings with it is not something I feel I have a say in, especially under Count Aredine. I knew what I gave up the minute I agreed to marry him, the price of my freedom meant nothing in turn. However, just what would the future hold if I could craft it with my hands, just as Count Shorai had his magic?
“Then the change of my answer is quite obvious is it not? Who wouldn’t want a say in their future? In their life?”
A testing smirk that I don’t quite like comes to his features as he takes a step back from me. “I couldn’t agree more. Who wouldn’t want a say in their life?” With a hand extended my way, he asks, “Shall we depart these chambers and join the others?”
I shake my head immediately, my head in somewhat of a haze with our conversation. “I thought you didn’t like more than one as company?”
He returns his hand to his side. “That’s fair,” he says once more. “I do not favor it. However, would it not be considered rude to not make an appearance at some point in the night?”
Quite the devil I see this man to be now. If I were to step out of this library after my fiancée stated that I must stay, I would be in a world of trouble. Forget the thought of stepping out with another man; Count Aredine would have my head. There isn’t a single chance I would risk either situation.
“You said you’ve heard the conversation between me and Count Aredine, yes? Then you must know that I can’t leave until I have been come for,” I state pointedly.
His smirk doesn’t drop in the slightest. “Silly me.”
“Silly you,” I offer a smile of my own.
“Then I shall take my departure now before he returns.”
He lingers in front of me as if waiting for something more to be articulated I suppose.
I offer, “Thank you for keeping me company for this short time. I’d say it’s the first time I’ve enjoyed one of these events.”
“The night is hardy over.”
Again, he takes my hand in his, gives one gentle kiss, and turns his back to me as he departs. I rub the tender area gently as I think of what a strange man that Count Shorai is. While I’d met a few strange Counts and Countesses, he is the first truly interesting man that I’ve met. Should I consider myself lucky in that regard?
“Just how long had we talked?” I mumble to myself.
It couldn’t have been more than twenty minutes between our dialogue and brief silences. And yet....
“What is this feeling?”
My mood is always sour at these gatherings, but this was the first time I felt relief of any sorts. At ease and in good spirits despite being punished.
“Just who is Count Shorai?”
Another hour passes before Count Aredine believes I have been punished enough and can join the festivities again. Once more, his hand finds home on my back as he guides me to a larger group of socialites.
“Oh, we heard Count Aredine’s beloved was ill. Does she feel better?” One of the Countesses asks as we approach the group.
With a gentle squeeze to my back, Count Aredine turns a glance my way. “Quite. It seems the color has returned to her cheeks.”
I curtsy and smile. “Yes, thank you for allowing me to rest. ”
“Aren’t you just the troublesome one,” he asks with what any other would assume was a charming laugh. And like the monkeys these people are, they join him in laughter.
These events always carried on for far too long. How much time was truly needed to flaunt wealth and status? These people do the same song and dance every month. The same nonsensical repetitive actions. The same boisterous laugh and coquettish giggle. The same wining and dining. When would they ever get their fill of such customs?
“Excuse me?” The circle of Counts and Countesses around me turn to the voice making its way toward us.
Count Shorai. I wouldn’t dare speak his name aloud for fear of my fiancée growing suspicious of me uttering another man’s name.
I stay close to Count Aredine and keep my gaze trained on the floor as I’d been instructed to do in group conversations. He must have come to talk to the other elites around me, possibly even to gauge where I stand on the societal totem pole.
“Countess Nalieze,” he addresses me.
Every eye in this grand room is on our group, or specifically on me and Count Shorai.
I can hardly find the words to speak under such scrutiny. This was the first time the guests had grown quiet without a performance at hand, leaving only the orchestra, the Count’s words, and my racing heart to create sound.
“Yes?” My voice comes out low and strangled, uncertain of whether I should answer or not.
He places a gentle finger under my chin and tilts it up so that I can gaze into his eyes before he holds his hand out once more. “Would you care to dance?”
Chapter 3: Crescendo
One could hear a pin drop in the eerily silent ballroom. Not once has it ever been this quiet during a festive night. I can hardly move, let alone speak with such pressure on my shoulders. Not only has Count Shorai touched me in such an intimate way but he has the nerve to ask for a dance in front of all of these people. I might as well die and be set in the ground with this kind of provoking. Do I answer? What can I answer?
Luckily, I don’t have to.
Count Aredine pulls me behind him and away from Count Shorai with such haste I nearly trip over my feet. “Do you want to lose that hand?” His tone matches the iciness of his gaze as he delivers a stony glare.
Unbothered, Count Shorai calmly places his hand back at his side. I can see an odd onset of curiosity in the Count’s eyes, one that reads as playful and with the desire to tease by means of nipping at Count Aredine. “My question was not for you, Aredine.”
Audible gasps can be heard echoing throughout the room in a chorus of horror. He might as well have slapped Count Aredine across the face with his vulgar address. Ever so slightly, Count Aredine’s jaw clenches tight as if biting his tongue to allow the pain to keep his facade set. I have to force myself to breathe as the tension in the room suffocates me. My eyes glaze over in worry as I wait for Count Aredine’s face to pucker in vexation.
And yet, the anger never comes. Rather a gentle smile in place and a look of smugness graces him. “And you think it right to ask a taken woman to dance? Are you from the streets or have you truly lost your mind?”
“Neither. Countess Nalieze has a mouth and she is perfectly capable of denying me. Have you spoken for her in fear that she won’t?”
Every guest remains frozen in place, some whispering amongst themselves and cussing that they are not closer to the action. How I wish I could be one of the elites furthest from this debacle.
“You seem quite sure that my fiancée would be taken by your advances. How conceited of you to overstep yourself and speak as if you have relations. ”
Would it be too much of a sin to ask the Gods to give me a fainting spell now? This is far too much. Even if I could think of words in my defense, my throat has completely closed and sealed in fear of what may happen after everything is said and done. Everything I have worked for over these last few months is crashing and burning before me. This man must hate me to put me in such a position.
“I have yet to truly speak with Countess Nalieze. Is it not natural to change that when at one of these gatherings?”
“She’s taken and spoken for.” Count Aredine doubles down.
Just as Count Shorai had done in the library, his eyes carry to the side in thought. I believe it to be a habit of poor taste, one that seems quite disrespectful in the heat of a dispute.
“I have yet to hear her speak at all since entering this ballroom. Why is that?”
Count Aredine’s back straightens as his fist clenches in irritation. I have never seen anyone challenge him, never so blatantly and publicly at that. It must be a blue moon for me to be able to witness something as grand as the great Count Aredine struggling to keep his composure. What a sight to behold.
He cranes his neck toward me with eyes that scream he is ready to bloody his hands if it means reducing his embarrassment. I can’t quite tell if it’s my blood or Count Shorai’s that his heart desires. He places blame on me for this situation and is asking for answers that I simply do not have. Why does this man feel he can address me informally? Why does he take such liberties to pursue what should have been an ended conversation? Why does this coarse man feel comfortable to embarrass him?
“I mean no harm,” Count Shorai says after witnessing our exchange. “No reason to look so embarrassed, Aredine.”
Count Aredine doesn’t bother trying to hide the tic in his neck. Again, these aristocrats with their pride, ego, and refusal to let it be bruised in any way, shape, or form. Count Aredine had been kind in letting it go the first time his name was said without title, it would be too much to ask him to do it again.
His voice is low as he says, “Say my name again in such a way and you will regret it.”
No gasps. No nothing. While the ever-so-rare brawl hadn’t taken place in the last three years despite the ten year long rule, I believe many of these elites were excited by the idea of seeing another after so long with their wide eyes and puckered ears. Especially one involving a man that rarely ever raised his tone even an octave when in debate. My eyes drift to Count Aredine’s hands where I can see the light foaming of black and silver woven between his knuckles. I know he is sore, but my hopes are that he will not bring magic into this. No one would blame him if he did due to such public vilification and discomfiture, but surely their mouths would fly off about his inability to control himself.
It’s fair to say I am far past shocked that Count Aredine can lose his temper with so few words. I never would have thought that it would take another man’s galling to be his undoing. We would be the talk of the town if he allows his anger to guide him.
With my heart racing and having every single socialite's attention on us, my head was beginning to swim and my legs weaken. Should I stay quiet or try to diffuse this nasty situation?
Much pleading in my voice, I whisper, “Count Aredine-”
“Quiet.”
I would not be given the chance.
Smirk deep set in his features, Count Shorai scoffs. “Now is that any way to speak to your fiancée, Aredine?”
As if ignition to fire, the magic bubbling in his hands bursts in a blinding black and white light. With such intense power firing before me, I stumble backward along with many other guests in close proximity.
It has been done.
For the first time in three years, one of the ten rules of the elites has been broken.
Count Shorai offers something quite unexpected in the wake of this madness. His eyes narrow to slits, welcoming the challenge as his smirk widens sickeningly. With a single flick of the wrist, the lights stop dancing around us, dimming dangerously low as the candles bordering the room light in a blaze.
“Count Aredine of the Esor Lands, it seems you’ve broken a rule I am quite fond of in my estate. I am sure you know the punishment for such acts.”
My mouth hangs as hushed chatter erupts. I whip my head in every which direction to understand what is taking place. Something far beyond my understanding is happening right in front of me.
“That can’t be Count Daimure.”
“I thought Count Daimure was older.”
“He has yet to attend the gatherings this year.”
I knew nothing of these people, only the basics of each person being of wealth, magic, and pride. While I was still learning about the elites that conducted business with Count Aredine, the Daimure name had never been mentioned. For this manor to be as lavish, far surpassing my fiancée’s if truth be told, I believe this family to have dealt magic in the right hands. The name seems well-known based on the petrified reactions of these people, but why?
Everyone surrounding me seems just as confused as I am. Eyes ensnared with stupor turn to the man that had introduced himself under what appears to be a false name.
“You lie!” Count Aredine says, pulsing intensity in his hands dulling ever so slightly.
“Now why would I do such a thing? Count Daimure, my grandfather, has quietly passed during the first snowfall this year.” A single snap of his fingers given, I watch in mild horror as each maid and butler lining the room bows and curtsies as if trained dogs. “Leaving me to perform his duties and take over the estate.”
The manner of whispering forgotten, each guest begins to talk in urgency about the obscure death.
My eyes refuse to leave Count Aredine as I wait for his next course of action. What’s done is done. He can either back down with his tail between his legs or continue on a magical path that would leave his hands bloodied and soiled much like his reputation after tonight. There is no turning back.
“So, Aredine,” he stresses with a gentle smile. “It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance. Count Shorai Daimure,” he says as he holds out his left hand, “your humble host.”
Count Aredine doesn’t hesitate to slap his hand away, all semblance of magic long since dissipated. “What a vile man to try wooing another man’s woman in front of him.”
I am brimming with disgust for Count Aredine’s inability to end this quarrel. Does he not see how badly this reflects on his character? Regardless of what was said, trying to make Count Daimure the enemy after it was established that this was his home is sinful. Was his ego so fragile for him to spit poison rather than just end this? Was it worth the continued humiliation?
“I simply asked her a question,” he responds with ease. “No ill will in my intentions, no lust set in my eyes.”
“Have you no morale?”
“It would seem I do not. Nor I the patience to put up with this any longer.” He steps to my side, shoulders immediately relaxing and his intense gaze melting into a demeanor of kindness as his eyes land on me. “Countess Nalieze, I shall ask once more. Would you care to dance?” Again, he extends his right hand out for me to take.
The world was falling on my shoulders. Caught between my fiancée and a man I’ve only just met, my mind races. Count Aredine is my fiancée and a man I had intended to spend the rest of my life in a loveless marriage with. I would never have to worry for money another day of my life at the cost of my freedom. Count Shorai is a man I know absolutely nothing about, though have a curiosity for that I hope to sedate. Both have put me in a position that will leave me damned if I do and damned if I don’t. The only question is, how damned do I desire to be?
A mixture of fear, anger, and fatigue rage in my chest. Count Shorai’s words reverberate throughout my being as I glare at the hand he offers. This was his game. Had I known it started in the library quarters, I just may have guarded myself a bit more. He had asked if I would change my future if given the opportunity and in pure naivety I said I would. Now was the time to see if my words were a reflection of my being. Am I a woman that keeps true to her word?
For just one second, my eyes drift to Count Aredine. What future would I have after tonight given this heated exchange? Would I have a future after tonight?
No further hesitation is needed. I place my hand in Count Shorai’s, sealing my fate as well as his. I feel neither relief nor at ease after choosing what feels like the best of the most dreadful of prospects. He gently tightens his hand around mine, careful to hold it firmly, though delicately. These sweet brown eyes warm me to my core almost immediately in ways that Count Aredine had never allowed his to do. Despite their warmth, I feel my chest sinking.
Have I just traded one demon for another?