Chapter Twenty-Nine
After another week of uncomfortable distance between us, Claude and I endure a long and painfully silent ride to the Celeste event he asked me to attend with him. Between our subdued black semiformal outfits and the somber quiet, it feels like we’re on the way to a funeral instead of a party.
I sit staring out the window, Claude’s words from our last conversation still ringing in my head.
In perpetuity. Ever since he said those words, I lost a flicker of hope that I wasn’t aware I was still holding on to.
Part of me thought that if we made it through a difficult year, everything would be okay.
But now it looks like the only way this ends is with us walking away from each other.
It’s exactly what I said I wanted. One year, a great salary, and then I’d be out of this lifestyle, moving on to the future I’ve always worked for.
But now I know what I’ll be walking away from.
Who I’ll be walking away from. And the idea of leaving Claude to this eternal solitude makes my chest ache.
On the other side of the car, Claude clears his throat, looking down at his ring-laden hands. He hasn’t touched the wine. “I’ve been thinking about your safety,” he says.
I turn to him, frowning. “Shouldn’t you be thinking about your own?”
He gives his head the smallest shake. “After our contract is up, I mean… Of course I won’t fault you for walking away, but…” He shifts in his seat, brushing hair out of his face. “It would be safest for you to continue to be under the protection of a contract and a court.”
My brow furrows. “So… stay under contract with you?”
“No.” He hesitates. “With someone else.”
I can only stare.
“I could introduce you to some other vampires who would be amenable to—”
“No,” I say. “I don’t want that.”
“It would just be for your protection,” Claude says, “until Lord Ambrose’s attention wanders elsewhere.”
It makes a certain amount of sense, but that doesn’t make it hurt any less. I can’t imagine being someone else’s valentine. The mere thought of it… I shake my head, turning to gaze out the window. “I don’t want to talk about this.”
“We have to talk about it,” Claude says, with a gentleness that makes my eyes burn. “I don’t like it either, Nora, but I will do whatever it takes to protect you.”
I shake my head again, unable to find the words.
It seems so unfair, so impossibly cruel, that the best we can hope for is him protecting me by letting me go.
“We’ll talk about it closer to the end of our contract,” I say, finally.
“But not now. Maybe there will be another option.” Even if it seems impossible right now.
* * *
Claude told me this party would be different, but I didn’t realize just how different.
The mansion hosting this event is just as lovely as any of the others, with an old-school Victorian charm, but it’s so quiet.
Only a few dozen vampires and valentines are in attendance, spread throughout the open space in small clusters of conversation.
It’s intimidating in an altogether different way than the other events, yet at least I don’t feel so out of place here.
Still, I won’t ignore the opportunity to hold tightly to Claude’s arm as he offers it.
Any excuse to touch him, to be near him, to spend time with him, even though I’m the one who insisted we shouldn’t do those things.
He, as always, seems oblivious to any stares or sense of being incongruous. He leads me straight toward a pair of women standing near a marble bust.
“Ah, Claude,” the vampire says with an easy smile. “You made it.”
“You know me, never one to miss a party,” he says, and gestures to me. “This is my valentine, Nora. Nora, this is my old friend, Lady Georgiana de Celeste, and her valentine Farah.”
We make polite conversation, but it’s hard for me to keep up with social niceties with Claude’s words from the car weighing on me.
After a short while, I excuse myself to go to the bathroom.
I take my time finding my way back, admiring some of the portraits adorning the walls.
I stop short when I recognize one of them as Claude’s, and stare up at it, struck by a nameless surge of emotion as I look at the painting of a lake under the setting sun.
I’m not sure how long I stand there before Claude finds me. He stops silently at my side, staring up at the portrait, and I jolt guiltily as if caught doing something wrong.
“I’m sorry,” I say. “I was distracted…”
He slips an arm around my shoulders. “It’s alright.” His gaze flicks to me before wandering slowly, almost unwillingly, back to his painting. Those endless blue eyes show every little thing he’s feeling: sorrow, pride, a deep and terrible yearning.
“I love this one,” I say quietly. “It feels… nostalgic, somehow.”
“It’s a place I used to dream about,” he says. “Maybe a memory from before the orphanage, or maybe someplace I made up. I’ve never been sure.”
“You don’t dream about it anymore?”
He shakes his head, his gaze still locked on his artwork. “I can’t remember the last time I dreamed.” We stand in the quiet for a long moment before I slip my arm through his. “We should get back to the party.”
He finally tears his eyes away. “Right.” He places a hand over mine and squeezes, and we wander back into the main ballroom.
We’ve barely entered when a voice halts us.
“Are you Nora?”
I blink, turning around to see a human woman smiling at me. She has a head of gorgeous curls and is wearing a butter-yellow dress, unusual for a valentine, but she’s so glamorous she couldn’t be anything else.
I blink a couple times. I’m not used to people approaching to talk to me instead of Claude. “Yes?”
“Hi! I’m Amelia. We have a mutual friend, Lord Benjamin Acharya? The Valentine Society helped pair me with my patron as well.”
“Oh! Lovely.” I shake her hand, smiling. “He mentioned you. You’re with a Celeste vampire?”
“Yup!” She points across the party at a dark-haired gentleman in all black. He glances over as Amelia gestures to him, and his somber disposition softens. “I’m here with—”
“Lord Sebastian de Celeste?” Claude leans forward, his eyes locked on the other vampire with an expression I can’t decipher. “The hero of the last court war?”
“Oh, well, yes. But he doesn’t really like to talk about that.”
I side-eye Claude, unsure what to make of his sudden interest.
“I thought he hardly ever emerged from his estate.”
Amelia smiles. “Slightly more often, these days.”
“Could you introduce us, perhaps?” he asks.
“Oh, um, sure? I don’t see why not. It looks like he’s having a terrible time over there right now, so I was looking for an excuse to pull him away…”
Claude pulls free from me and offers his arm. “Happy to be of service.”
As she leads Claude away, I hear Amelia saying, “If he seems like he hates you, don’t worry, that’s just how his face is most of the time.”
She returns a couple of minutes later, sans Claude.
“Sebastian probably isn’t thrilled about me setting him up on a playdate like that,” she says, chuckling. “But truth be told, I wanted an excuse to talk to you alone. Can we sit?”
I blink, taken aback. “Sure.” We sit at a table tucked away in the corner, away from the other conversations. “You wanted to talk to me? Why?”
“Well…” She hesitates. “Not to be weird, but I’ve heard about your, um, situation. I wanted to see if you were okay, and if there was anything I could do to help.”
“My situation,” I repeat, confused. Does she know about the problem with the contract, somehow? But how could she possibly help with that?
“Yeah,” she says. “I mean, I can’t imagine it’s easy being with an artist like Claude, and all that pressure to be his muse…”
“Oh. Right.” In light of everything that’s happened, I had almost forgotten about that particular aspect of our relationship. “It is difficult, yes. I never really wanted a public-facing situation, so…”
“Right,” she says, nodding. “Yeah. I’m sure. And I’m sure you don’t want to be seen as just a muse, either. You probably want to be more than that to him.”
“Mm-hmm.” Something about that phrasing twinges something in my memory. I shift in my seat, taking a closer look at her. “Wait a second,” I say slowly. “You’re… are you…?”
She stares at me, wide-eyed. “What?”
I lean in, lowering my voice. “Anonymous Life of a Valentine, huh?”
“What! I’m… not… shit.” She sighs, shoulders slumping. “I’m really bad at this whole anonymity thing. Sorry if it was weird to approach you like this, I just… I know what it’s like to feel alone as a valentine. I wanted to help.”
“No, I’m glad you did.” I smile. “Seriously. Though I’m not sure there’s anything you could do for me. Things have gotten complicated since I wrote to you.”
“Complicated how?”
I take a deep breath. “Well…”
* * *
When I’m done explaining it all, about the contract and the court and Claude’s sire, I lean back in my chair and let out a long breath. It feels like a weight off my chest, but saying it all aloud—to Amelia’s gasps and sympathetic murmurs—also makes me realize just how crazy this is.
“It feels like I’m caught in this tangled web,” I say.
“And I can’t even see it all, let alone know how to escape it.
And I can’t tell anyone in my life, because I don’t want them freaking out.
My old roommates would probably drag me out of Claude’s house in the middle of the night if they thought I was in danger. ”
“Do you feel like you’re in danger?” Amelia asks.
After a moment, I shake my head. “Not really. But Claude is, and I don’t want to leave him to deal with it alone.”
Amelia nods. “Right.” She looks off into the distance, nibbling her thumbnail. I follow her gaze to see Sebastian and Claude still embroiled in conversation. Claude is having a conversation, at least, his slender hands gesticulating wildly as he speaks, while Sebastian listens with a furrowed brow.
“I’m not sure how much I can help,” Amelia says, drawing my attention back to her. “But I can ask Sebastian. He’s in a different court, obviously, but maybe he knows something that could help.”
“I wonder if that’s why Claude wanted to talk to him in the first place,” I murmur, still watching them.
They make an odd duo, and I can’t imagine what else they might be discussing.
But as Amelia pointed out, Sebastian is in Celeste; how could he do anything about a situation with Vulpe?
He probably doesn’t want to touch the political issues of another court with a ten-foot pole.
Amelia reaches over and touches my arm as if sensing my dismay. “Sebastian may not be able to help directly, but maybe he has some insight into all of this. He’s been through wars and…” She waves a hand. “All manner of things, I don’t know. He’s old as hell.”
I crack a smile. “Well, I appreciate it. Even if he can’t do anything, it’s nice to be able to talk to someone about everything.”