35. Angélique
35
Angélique
I find Elhyor in his office once again.
I don’t know how much he does here, but it doesn’t look like he needs to run anything.
Or maybe I don’t know, because if he’s the one paying all the bat-shifters who work here as warriors, I might be wrong.
Unless the legend about dragons and their treasure trove is true, and then I’m even more wrong.
That’s not the problem now, though.
I listen through the door and other than the click-click of someone typing on a computer, there is no noise inside.
I knock on the door, and without even waiting for his answer, I barge in.
As if he was so deep in whatever work he was focused on, his head whips in my direction at my entrance.
But it’s not where I stop.
I walk until I’m just against his desk and drop on his desk the reason I’m here.
“What the fuck is that?” Elhyor asks me as if he hasn’t pieced together exactly what this is.
It’s small, red, and lacy. What else could it be?
I’m also probably mean, because I didn’t clean it, and it’s been cuffing my butt for the best part of the day.
Because, yes, I dared that. I dropped the red lace panties I had to wear all day long on his desk.
After all, it’s his fault, no?
Elhyor looks at the tiny underwear as if it could eat him before he realizes what it is and then he schools his face.
“I think that’s pretty obvious. And yes, I wore it all day. And no, I don’t like it. Why? Because that thing hasn’t been made for comfort. I’m not even sure it has been made with women in mind. I’m not going to wear any of them and since I’d hate for them to go to waste, I’m bringing them back to their rightful owner.”
Elhyor raises an eyebrow in question.
“But there’s only one here…”
“The others are in front of your room door,” I say, looking at my fingernails as if they’re more important than this conversation.
His face stays impassible, but I can see in his eyes that something is chafing him the way that piece of fabric chafed me all day long. It’s in the way they spark with danger.
“Did you wear the others?” he asks in an uneven tone.
“Why would I suffer through more?” I ask, dumbfounded.
He grabs the thong and pockets it at my answer.
“Good,” he says before adding, “Noted. You can go now.”
And then he goes back to typing on his keyboard.
That wasn’t the reaction I was hoping for. I knew what I was about to do was petty, and that’s exactly why I did it. After all, if I had been uncomfortable for hours, he could be for a few minutes.
I’m almost at the door when I hear a noise outside.
I peek behind the door, but it’s not coming from inside Notre Dame. It’s like the noise is coming from the parvis.
“Elhyor?”
He raises his head again to look at me.
“I think there’s something wrong in front of Notre Dame…” I start to say, as one of the warriors I don’t recognize comes running in our direction.
There is definitely something wrong.
“ELHYOR.” The yell comes from outside, and it sounds like it’s getting closer.
“I’ll see what this is about,” he says as he stands and passes me on his way out. “Stay here. I’ll get everything sorted.”
Because I don’t know how to stay put or respect an order when he’s the one giving it, I follow him through the cathedral until he reaches the central double doors of Notre Dame that open on the parvis.
Elhyor stops me at the door.
“I mean it, stay here. I don’t know if it’s safe outside.”
Then he closes the door after him.
Should I follow him there? No. Should I open the door to listen to what is happening? Maybe.
I slowly get the door open, just a few centimeters and try to listen to Elhyor and the man in front of the mob that gathered on the parvis and as far as I can see, but they’re far away, the man has stopped yelling and the mob isn’t the quietest so the noise is drowning what they’re saying.
“What are they saying?”
I almost jump at Cassiopé’s question.
“I can’t hear,” I tell her with a childish pout.
“Then go away.” She shoos me away from the door to take my place and sticks her ear just in the small gap between the two doors.
Oh. right, bat-shifters and their super hearing.
“What are they saying?” I repeat her words, and she holds her hand up, so I stop talking.
“Okay,” I mumble to myself.
“The man says that Elhyor betrayed them. In a lot of curse words…” Cassiopé starts to say. “He’s talking about you.” She stops altogether, and I can’t shake the feeling that I’m not going to like whatever the other man is saying.
It gets even more obvious when she starts to frown and shake her head.
“What?” I ask. “You can’t tell me they’re talking about me and then shut up,” I add.
“Shh.”
I manage to stay silent for another twenty seconds when I lose patience again.
“He’s not happy,” she says, then removes her ear from the door altogether. “He’s coming.”
She pushes me out of the way and starts to talk as fast as she can, without even taking a breath.
“The man on the parvis is Marcel, the head of Libération. He believes your wedding to Elhyor is a betrayal to them. He wants Elhyor to give you to them, and in exchange, he won’t attack Notre Dame. Elhyor answered no and stormed away. Be prepared for anything.”
As she finishes, Elhyor opens the double door in something akin to a storm, the doors banging on each side with the strength of his anger.
Because this is anger that I can see in his eyes in this instant. Pure raging hot anger.
“brICE,” Elhyor roars.
“What is wrong?” I ask.
“Not now,” is the only answer Elhyor gives me.
He hasn’t stopped walking, crossing the distance from the double doors to the other side of the cathedral in long steps that eat the ground at a speed I can’t keep up with.
When Brice appears at the door on the other side of the cathedral, Elhyor doesn’t stop, but I still can hear him clearly with the church’s acoustic.
“Get the men ready.”