Chapter Thirty-Five
Azizi
Ihear the low timber of familiar voices before I hear the rumble of the carriage. Strange, that. The beating of hooves and clattering of wheels should be louder, surely, and yet above them floats the gentle cadence of home. A song I know by heart and soul.
The carriage comes to a stop in front of the house just as I help Theodore to his feet. There is a feral sort of look in his eyes still, protective and warning, and though it warms me to see, I place my hand on his shoulder and shake my head. “Our guests have arrived a bit early. That is all”
Curiosity replaces the wild thing in his shoulders, and Theodore blinks up at me, his eyebrows disappearing beneath his curls. Kolfina mirrors his surprise, the feeling like a twisting of wool beneath my skin where it does not belong.
The sensation sends a chill up my spine.
Kolfina’s presence within me is not uncomfortable per se, but more an unfamiliar oddness I had never expected to feel before.
To my limited knowledge of the occult, it should be impossible for her to possess other creatures of death like myself, and yet here she is, swaying between my rib bones like a willow tree.
Emotions that are not mine winding through my heart and down to my fingertips.
Is this how Theodore feels when she possesses him? Stuffed full and yet as light as air?
Before I can think to ask him, the carriage door flies open and Jonas lands on the ground outside it with a loud thunk of his boots.
His clothes are slightly wrinkled from the travel, his hat nowhere to be seen, as usual, but the smile that splits across his face is so bright, I cannot help but return it.
“Azizi Darling! Finally!”
It has hardly been any time at all since he’s seen me, and yet he greets me as if it’s been years. His embrace is tight and his laugh is loose as he lifts me off my feet, spinning me around right there at the base of the stairs.
“For goodness sake. Jonas Nikolai Alilovi?, put me down right this second,” I demand, though the laughter skipping alongside my words makes the scolding fall short. “In all these years, you still have no sense of decorum. You act as if you did not just see me.”
“That was weeks ago, Azi! Twins are not meant to be separated for so long, you know,” he counters as he pulls away.
Before I can remind him that we are not actually twins, he turns to Theodore and hugs him as well, completely unbothered by the blood coating the boy’s front.
“And Theodore! We hardly got the chance to talk at the party before Allie stole you away. Did I mention last time how happy I am that my sister listened to my expert advice in hiring you? Tell me, is she a horrid taskmaster? Has Allard made you question your will to live? You know, we had six of our household staff quit once because of him.”
Theodore blinks in surprise at the onslaught of questions and information, an expression I might have found amusement in if not for the quiet sound of the carriage shifting behind us and another set of boots hitting the ground.
“Now Jonas, don’t frighten the boy. Allard has always been an exceptional steward. The villa is a mess without him.”
That voice makes my dead heart lurch in my throat, and I am turning to face it before I can stop myself.
Part of me wishes to blame Kolfina, her curiosity fluttering around and mixing with the nervous butterflies in my belly.
But I know it is me that turns to face him.
It is me that looks up into those handsome, pale eyes and nearly collapses in relief at the sight of them.
Nikolai Jure Alilovi? is the kindest soul I have ever had the pleasure of knowing, and it shows within those eyes.
Soft, pink-tinged white with a dark ring of red in the center, like cotton wool stained with blood.
He has never hidden them from people, confidently claiming a birth defect that affected his eyesight, and I have always admired his unashamed pride in what and who he is.
“The eyes are mirrors, little darling,” he once told me. “To hide them would be to hide one’s self, and we must only do so when there is something worth hiding for.”
I wonder if he can see the fear in my own eyes as they meet his now. I wonder if he recognizes the child hiding behind them, terrified of disappointing the only man worthy of her calling a father.
All of a sudden, I am sixteen years old again, too skinny and small, being led into what might have been a palace to my penniless eyes and being told it is my home now, as long as I should want it.
I am a little girl being handed a paintbrush and a key, this kind stranger telling me my dreams and passions are the only thing that matter now, so long as they make me happy.
Before I know it, I am at the carriage and in his arms, my head tucked under his bearded chin and my ear pressed against the too-slow beat of his inhuman heart—a sound only he and Dorian have, and one I have drawn comfort in throughout my long life.
His laugh is like Kolfina's music to my ears, his embrace like the warmth of Theodore's skin.
He is home, and I did not realize how much I missed that until I have him here before me. To my horror, tears spring forth behind my eyes and my breath hitches in my throat. Kolfina’s presence within me grows heavier, warmer, like she is wrapping herself around my ribs in comfort.
"There now, and Jonas says I am the maudlin one," my father jokes. "Come, let me see you."
He pulls back just enough to get a look at me, his hands settling on the sides of my throat and his fingers pressing against my jaw to guide my head up. I do not know what he looks for, but I hope he finds it when his handsome face melts into something soft and affectionate.
"Azizi Nikolania, mia preziosa cara. You are still just as exquisite as the day I found you." He takes my chin in the cradle of his palm and presses a gentle kiss upon my forehead. "I have missed you dearly, my child."
"I have missed you as well, babbo."
He looks at me a few moments longer, his head tilting slightly, the gentle waves of his dark hair brushing across his neck, the white sections at his temples curled behind his ears.
“Affascinante,” he whispers, tracing his thumb beneath the curve of my eye.
“It seems you are not alone in there, sì?”
The question leaves me reeling, and I can feel Kolfina jolt somewhere behind my sternum. The woolly sensation of her presence weaves into something more solid, more aware. “You can see her?”
“Gli occhi—it is the eyes, little one.” He smiles and taps a finger on my cheekbone before stepping away. “They tell you all you need to know, if one knows how to look. Kolfina, I assume? Il tue fantasma tra i muri? Which must make you Theodore.”
Theodore straightens to attention as my father turns to him.
“Y-yes, sir. Theodore Villin.” He bows slightly, then reaches out a hand to shake before realizing he is still covered in blood and tucking it behind his back instead.
“My apologies, you’ve caught me at an awkward time.
It is a pleasure to finally meet you Lord Alilovi?—ah, that is… Signore?”
The man laughs—a low rumble that sounds both too-polite and too-playful all at once—and bats his hand through the air.
“No, bestiolino. You have made my Azizi happy. You will call me babbo.” He turns back with a smile, though when his eyes find mine, I can tell he is not looking at me.
“You as well, fiorellina. You are both family now.”
Something lurches in my chest at that, so sudden and strong that it pushes a gasp past my lips.
For a single moment, I wonder if my dead heart has started beating again, then the lurch comes again and I realize it is Kolfina, her presence inside me growing taut against my skin, as if my father’s words have left her gasping for air, her lungs expanding in my chest.
“Truly stunning,” my father says before shaking his head, as if to chase away the distraction.
He turns back to face the others, a bright smile spreading across his face as Allard appears in the doorway behind them.
“Come now! The night is young, but there is much to discuss. Let us leave Allard to his cleaning and retire inside.”
And though I follow him like a duckling, his guiding arm threaded through mine, I cannot ignore that lurching feeling that still lingers inside me. Kolfina’s longing for a family such as this, perhaps? Or my own desperate wishing that I could be accepted back with such effortless care?
I’ve only just arrived back home and the silence here is unsettling, Jonas wrote me once. Like he is mourning your loss without ever knowing why you’ve left.
Maybe… just maybe, there has never been anything to fear.
It’s not until half an hour later that we’ve finally made our way to the parlor and sat down.
Jonas, as he is wont to do, began bossing us around as soon as we passed through the threshold, shooing Theodore off to get himself cleaned up before demanding a tour of the manor from myself and Kolfina.
A clever ploy on his part to give Theodore the much-needed time to gather himself again.
By the time the quick tour is done, Theodore is waiting for us in the parlor, his hair slightly damp and his face and hands wiped clean.
A decanter of blood sits on the table with four matching glasses.
“Mr. Allard caught me on my way back down,” Theodore says by way of explanation, gesturing to the tray. “He said he’d be dealing with Father T—ah… Well, he just said it might be a while before he can come check on us.”
“Four glasses?” Jonas asks as he plops himself ungracefully on one of the plush chairs. “Do you drink blood, Theodore? Is that what you were doing when we arrived?”