Chapter 12 Res and Expectations #2
“Seraphina, listen to me.” Seff gripped my shoulders and pulled me to face him.
“Ciaran Fahy is behind this. He knows that you’re close to me, and he clearly plans on using you to get to me.
To my family. He is a monster, and he will do anything it takes to get what he wants.
And what he wants is to get back at us. You cannot trust him.
He did not save you. He orchestrated this whole thing; it has his name written all over it. ”
I didn’t know what to think. On the one hand, what Seff was saying made sense.
If Scion was Ciaran’s enemy, then using me to get to Seff…
Well, it was a good plan. Especially if they had history, as Seff had said.
But on the other hand, I just couldn’t believe that Ciaran was a monster.
He’d been nothing but respectful… annoying, domineering and arrogant, sure, but he had been kind; he’d been vulnerable.
He brought me to his home; he’d trusted me even though I had given him no reason to.
Could he really be the monster Seff described?
As I stared around at the mess, I had no idea what to think.
Though Ciaran’s warnings about Scion and the viscount echoed in my mind, I squashed them down.
I was home. I was safe now. It had all been just a horrible nightmare, right?
Get your shit together, Seraphina, I scolded myself, the scent of rosemary wrapping around me, as I shivered in Ciaran’s old shirt.
I tried my best to squash down the memory of sleeping in his bed, of his rough hand around my wrist—of those multi-faceted eyes, dark and alluring.
It was getting harder to do. I changed my clothes to rid myself of the temptation.
The gendarmes arrived and documented the scene. Seff requested that they keep a detail on me in case Ciaran came back. I personally thought that was a ridiculous measure, but it made Seff feel better. And then we began putting my apartment back together.
Fortunately, the damage was minimal, with the broken window on the front door being the worst of it.
We boarded it up with some cardboard and tape for now.
My mind was reeling. I couldn’t seem to shake Ciaran’s warnings.
The story about his mother disturbed me to my core.
And then Seff had been so angry when I returned.
But now, he was being sweet and helpful, putting my room back together, worrying about me, acting as if everything was normal and he hadn’t just grabbed me so hard I was sure I would bruise. He gave me whiplash.
As I watched him right my dresser and begin gently folding my clothes, I decided that he was good and kind and loving.
And yes, he had a temper, and yes, we had our differences, but those things didn’t matter in the long run.
So, I buried the warnings that Ciaran had given about Scion; I buried the story about his mother, the story painted across his face in scars, and I went about getting on with my life.
Carlotta returned home from the infirmary some time later. Seff took that as his cue, kissing me gently on the forehead and walking away down the stone steps.
My heart hurt to see Carlotta like this—a black eye on her right side, purple, angry and swollen, white bandages covering the gash on her forehead. I stared at her for a moment, tears filling my eyes. I walked over to her without saying a word and pulled her into a careful but firm embrace.
“So. If it isn’t the new diva of the Lutesse City Opera,” Carlotta deadpanned. Someone had obviously told her that I’d replaced her. I was sure she was going to be furious with me.
“I’m so sorry, Lottie.” I sobbed into her shoulder.
I had been holding it in, the weight of what had happened to her, my performance and everything afterward.
All of it was coming to the surface now as I held my friend and wept.
“They cornered me into doing it. I didn’t have a choice.
” I conveniently left out the part where Maren volunteered the information about my hidden talents. I didn’t need to drag her into this.
“Shhhhhh, shhhhhh, Fifi. I was only joking, it’s okay.” Her slim arms wrapped around me, and she stroked my hair. “I heard it went great.” She squeezed me tightly to her.
“No, it’s not okay. I should have told you.
About the singing. About everything.” I stepped back, wiping my eyes.
“I never wanted to compete with you. I’m happy dancing.
I just want to be a part of the opera; I don’t care what I do.
I want to be with you and Maren, that’s all, I swear.
I’m happy dancing.” And no matter what happened now, I could not bring myself to tell her about the oath.
To tell her the truth about why I had never told either of them about my ambitions. It was too personal. Too raw.
Carlotta’s face turned cold. “I’m not threatened by you.
The only thing that hurts is that you think I would have been upset.
There’s no reason that you should have hidden this from me.
The fact that you didn’t trust me enough to share with me?
That’s what hurts my feelings. We’ve known about the singing since we were all in school together.
I guess I just always hoped that you would tell me some day. ”
It was like a punch to the gut. She’d known since we were in school together—when I was a burgeoning ballerina and she, a young and untested soprano. Known and never let on. My eyes filled with hot, embarrassed tears.
Carlotta didn’t say anything. She just held me until I stopped crying.
“What the hell happened here?” She pointed to the mess that was our apartment.
“How long do you have?” I wiped my eyes again. I must have looked like a real blubbering mess. But Carlotta looked worried.
I launched into the whole story; this time I didn’t leave out the parts about the magic, the Church, Seff and his father, or the perceived threats to my life.
Carlotta was my family. She was the only person I could trust with everything, the only one to whom I could show everything, especially now that there were no more secrets between us.
Carlotta’s face paled as the story went on. She gasped when I told her about the Cistern and the star-vaulted ceiling miles and miles below the city. I was describing Ciaran’s apartment when she stopped me.
“Wait.” She interrupted. “You slept in his bed? Did you…”
“NO! Carlotta!” I spat. “He slept on the couch!”
“What, you said he was hot, right?” She smirked. Typical Carlotta. Her biggest takeaway from the dramatic tale was the perceived hotness of the man involved.
“I believe I said ‘striking,’ but it doesn’t matter—I’m with Seff,” I reminded her.
“Okay, sure, sure, sure, but Ciaran sounds… dark… mysterious… broody. That’s hot as hell. I don’t know if I would have had the self-control not to.”
“Oh, I’m sure you wouldn’t have.” I stuck my tongue out at my friend, glad that we were able to banter and joke, even through all of this.
“Fifi, I don’t know. Magic has been gone for a really, really long time. I don’t think it can possibly be true. Maybe this Ciaran and whoever those men were thought they saw something, but… I’ve heard you sing for years. I’ve never noticed anything weird.”
That statement made me feel settled for the first time since that beam had fallen on stage. Carlotta had never noticed anything. And in the light of day, it all seemed so ridiculous. I decided that I’d put magic, Scion and Ciaran Fahy out of my head once and for all.