Chapter 5
CHAPTER FIVE
éTIENNE
Three days pass, and each hour I remain puts her at greater risk. Yet something binds me to this place, to her. When she touches me, the fractures in my Oathmark burn less fiercely.
At night, stranger things happen.
We meet in dreams, walking together beneath the glass dome of my family's atrium, stars shining overhead more brightly than I ever remember from my childhood. I don’t know the future, but I feel the home falling away as much as I feel my soul slipping as well.
And yet, in these shared dreams, I'm whole again. We sit in the center of the atrium beneath the glowing green of the oak branch or around the fountain, and I tell her stories of my house that history will certainly forget.
She indulges me with her laughter at my boyhood adventures. The sound of it makes my soul sing. I have never longed to dwell within the Veil, but if this is where I may remain with her, I would endure an eternity.
Each morning, I wake more bound to her, even as I know I must eventually flee or doom us both.
Tonight, the atrium glows from the moonlight seeping through the glass above. The oak’s branches bend low, heavy with what I realize are mistletoe leaves that shimmer faintly green.
Geneviève stands by the fountain, her gown tonight is pale, her tignon loosened so that a curl escapes down her neck. The sight sends a yearning through me that I’ve never felt before.
“Three nights,” she says with a mischievous smile, “The Veil is greedy.”
“Are you tired of meeting me here?” I jest, and yet I worry she’s growing weary of me.
She faces me, eyes bright. “Mais non.”
I join her at the fountain’s edge. The water ripples, and when she reaches to touch the surface, I catch her hand instead. The warmth of her skin travels through me, steadying the shadows slowly claiming the man I am.
“You are real,” I say, though I know this is a dream.
“So are you. For now.”
For now. The words send a wave of grief through me. I’m not afraid of dying. Being in a place with no pain, no worries, appeals to me. But that place won’t have Geneviève either.
The air thickens. The oak above rustles. The green light deepens, giving her an ethereal glow. I trace the line of her jaw with my fingers, expecting the Veil to shatter between us. But it only hums, as if approving.
A daring overtakes me, and I lean in, inhaling her sweet scent, catching the quick flare of surprise in her dark eyes.
“If this is sin, then let me burn for it.” I wait a beat for her to refuse me, but when she leans in, a whisper away, I close the distance, settling my mouth over hers.
The kiss is slow, reverent, life-giving.
The Veil trembles. Every candle flares. Her heart beats against mine, and for a moment, I am whole.
When she draws back, her smile is sweet. “And do you now feel alive?”
I laugh, something I haven’t done in years. I do feel alive. It courses through my veins. Being greedy, I kiss her again, pulling her closer, and my body flares to life in other ways.
“I do feel alive, mon ange.” My angel.
She arches a brow. “I think in more than one meaning, n’est pas?”
Heat warms my cheeks. She was once a placée, so she’s no stranger to the passion between men and women. But I shouldn’t so obviously yearn for her that way.
“I apologize—”
“For being a man? For being alive?”
I shake my head in awe of this wise woman. “I only meant I don’t want to offend you.”
Her smile is coy. “I think I’d be more offended if you did not react so when kissing me.”
I want to reach for her again, but the dream begins to fade.
“Until tomorrow,” I vow, though I know tomorrow may never come.
I wake to her singing words that soothe even as I die more each day. My body, moments ago filled with light and the shimmer of arousal, now feels heavy with the pain from my wound.
I sit up slowly. The Veil’s mark burns faintly across my chest, less so than before, but I have no illusions of recovery.
My gaze falls upon the table. There beside the empty basin lies a single green leaf. Mistletoe. I brush my thumb across it and feel the faint hum of the Veil pulse within it.
I rise, my legs questionable, but my will is strong. I manage to make my way to her kitchen.
She stands by the hearth, hair loose in a ribbon, stirring a pot of something fragrant as she sings. She glances over her shoulder when I appear. “You should not be out of bed.”
“I’m stronger today.”
Her gaze flickers to the bandage at my chest. “So it seems.”
I hold up the leaf. “This was on the table.”
Her hands still. “A leaf?” Why she plays coy about our Veil-bound visits, I don’t know, unless she’s worried. And she should be. It’s dangerous for her to be a Veilseer. One who can visit the Veil is even more dangerous. One harboring a corrupted Oathkeeper is a death sentence.
“It’s from the oak in my family’s atrium.”
She shrugs and begins stirring again. “Dreams leave strange souvenirs.”
“If it were only a dream, why does it hum?”
She looks at me then, and I see in her eyes the same wonder that burns in my chest. The same recognition that whatever happens between us in that other place is real.
And forbidden.
Bonds in my world must be sanctioned. The Council would never allow me to bind myself to a Veilseer. Never allow this.
“I suppose it hears what hearts dare not speak aloud.”
Her words make me want to take her in my arms. To kiss her. To escape to a place where we can be without pain or fear.
She turns away. “Eat something before it hears more than it should.”
I take a step closer, unable to let her retreat. If I were a better man, I’d leave now. But I’m selfish and foolish. There’s something about this woman that draws me to her. Not just the physical pull of a man wanting a woman. No, it’s more than that. She’s the essence of life.
“Are you frightened?”
She keeps her back to me, stirring her stew. “I am cautious.”
“Of me?”
She doesn’t answer.
“From the danger I bring? The Veil? I’ve told you I’ll leave, and yet you bade me to stay. Shall I go now?”
“It’s never good to spend too much time in the Veil.”
I move nearer until I can smell the scent of jasmine on her skin. “And yet you walk it. You come to me there every night.”
“That was the Veil’s will, not mine.”
“Was it?” I take another step, seeking understanding in her eyes. Is she coming to me not of her own will but pulled in by the Veil? “Because I could swear you chose to find me.”
Her breath catches, and the defiance falters in her gaze. “I’m not afraid of your world, étienne. And I won’t lie that I enjoy being with you. But you are leaving, whether through the Veil or the Council, perhaps even the Hollow—”
“The Hollow will never claim me,” I snarl. I will destroy my soul before that happens.
“But something will. And you’ll be gone. The Veil toys with us, and I want no part of it.”
I reach for her then, my arm wrapping around her waist, and pulling her into me. “Do I strike you as gone?”
She gasps, startled, and the Veil responds with a low hum.
“This isn’t the Veil,” I say, unable to hide the desperation clawing at me. “This is you and me, Geneviève.”
For a breathless moment, she doesn’t resist. Her body fits against mine as if made for me and me alone. The warmth of her seeps through me, and the mark on my chest flares, insistent, hungry.
My grip tightens. Not painful, and yet, still possessive. Her pulse jumps. The Veil’s hum deepens.
“Say you do not want me, and I will go. Say it.”
She doesn’t.
I feel then how easily I could pull her closer, to bind us together body to body, soul to soul. Even if it destroyed us both.
Her hands hover at my chest. “étienne.” Her voice is a warning.
I loosen my hold with effort, forcing myself back even as every instinct screams to keep her there. To anchor myself to her. To take what I need…what I want more than my next breath.
“Forgive me,” I murmur. “This is why you should fear me. Not the Veil. Not the Council. Me.”
I step away before I can change my mind.
She says nothing. Only watches me, eyes dark with something that is not fear, but not safety either.
“I should leave.”
“You’re still not well enough.”
“I will never be well again,” I say. Not in bitterness, but in simple truth.
The Veil stirs, restlessly as if disappointed I have not taken more. Perhaps she’s right and all this is a Veil manipulation, but why? Why make me desperate for a woman I can’t have? Why make me care for her and then force me to ruin her?
“Eat, before your food gets cold.” She turns from me once more.
I consider touching her again. But I would be a bastard to demand more than she has already given.
So I obey, sitting down at the table to eat, though I barely taste the food.
My thoughts drift to her mouth, the warmth of her hand, her songs that bridge life and death.
There is great cruelty in the world. Some of it inflicted by the humans who dwell there, but they alone aren’t the cause of suffering.
The Council isn’t beyond causing great pain in the name of protecting the Veil. The Hollow seeks to take what the Council has spent years protecting.
The Veil itself is neither cruel nor benevolent. It seeks to protect itself and keep balance. So why did it draw me here? To her? Why does it allow her to traverse from one side to the other? What does the Veil want?
When she leaves me to my meal, I open my palm. The leaf still rests there, alive, faintly glowing. And for the first time since my curse began, I wonder if the curse is actually a blessing.