Chapter 14
THE DAY PASSED BY in a blink, Rul once again lounging on her bed while she struggled with her still life.
The flowers hadn’t wilted a bit–the magic of le Voile, she supposed–but that didn’t make it any easier to block in the forms and colors.
He brought her breakfast and dinner, kept her stocked with coffee and snacks anytime she needed a break.
After hours of toiling, she’d had enough, finishing the last pink macaron Rul had offered her in one bite. The good thing about agonizing over the painting was that it had pushed other thoughts from her mind, the same sensation that being dominated by the demons gave her.
She was disturbed by the darkness of le Voile, that deep black hole still vibrating in her chest as if her own body would swallow her in one gulp.
Rul hadn’t made a move, and she was both relieved and disappointed, though the sensation of his fingers running through her hair while she lay her head in his lap was positively divine.
“Does he always do that?” she asked, drawing the attention of his piercing gaze.
“Does who do what?”
“Bellinor. Does he always leave right after…”
It shamed her that she couldn’t stop thinking about him, about that moment when she’d first arrived in le Voile and he’d clumsily bathed her. Clearly, she’d done something wrong, because now he seemed to be avoiding her, eager to escape her presence as quickly as possible.
Rul nodded, absentmindedly brushing his fingers over her lips as she gazed up at him.
“Ah, yes, he’s not the best at… caring for our playthings. That’s my duty.”
And why did it matter so much? Why did any of it matter? She had no choice but to be here, to serve. She should be grateful that they hadn’t seriously hurt her, that Rul at least felt obligated to stay with her when her head was floating away in the clouds.
Isabelle looked away, staring at the flames in the hearth, entranced by their elaborate dance as she tried to push the demon from her mind.
“You’re so intrigued by him,” Rul said, twirling a lock of her hair around his finger.
She turned back to him with a glare, though was met with a smile.
“I’m merely curious about the monster who abducted me.”
“Merely curious,” he mused, biting his lip and shaking his head.
His hand caressed her thigh, the sheer layers of her dress keeping them separate, though he warmed her all the same.
“I think it’s more than mere curiosity. From him and you. Perhaps you two are more alike than you’d think.”
She huffed at the insinuation and crossed her arms over her chest, annoyed further by his deep chuckle.
“If you’re so curious, why don’t you go visit him? He’s in his study. I’m sure he’d be delighted to see you.”
“You’re mocking me.”
“I’m not!” Rul raised his hands, feigning innocence. “He’s difficult, but he likes you. I wouldn’t say so unless I was sure.”
When she refused to respond, he cupped both of her cheeks in his palms.
“Petite chérie,
he cannot resist
the touch of a rose.
Fighting through her thorns
to caress the soft velvet
of her petals,
spread them wide,
cradle her in his silken touch.”
His poem brought a flush to her cheeks, which was only exacerbated when he flicked his wrist and a pink rose appeared in a flash of shadows. He handed it to her, and she pushed out of his lap, trying to hide the way his words had affected her.
“I don’t know why you’re trying to act like he doesn’t hate me. He’s made it quite obvious.”
All he wanted was to use her and discard her, calling her nothing more than a whore. Words that may have been true, though they still hurt, especially when there was no assurance or comfort afterward, like with Rul.
“That’s not true at all. He’s not the best at… not being an ass.”
A smile quirked her lips as he leaned in to kiss her on the cheek.
“Go see him,” Rul whispered in her ear, goosebumps prickling along her skin. “Thank him for the painting supplies. He likes to feel appreciated.”
“Fine,” she huffed, getting out of the bed when she realized that he wouldn’t let it go. “I’ll say thank you. But I’m sure it will only upset him.”
“Nonsense!” he shouted dramatically, calling to her as she waved him off and walked out the door. “Good luck!”
Isabelle trembled as she stood outside the door, one of the mannequin servants–who had appeared out of nowhere to escort her to Bellinor’s study–giving her a final nod before turning the knob.
She stepped into the dark space, the door shutting swiftly behind her. She wished Rul was here as she examined the room, every nerve on edge.
It looked like a posh office, bookshelves filled with dusty tomes lining the walls, candlelight bathing everything in the same eerie glow that filled all of le Jardin. There was a small table with two chairs and a stone chess set eagerly awaiting players.
Bellinor sat at the large desk at the back of the space, eyes glued to a book on the tabletop, not even bothering to look at her.
He was as close to the beast in the forest as she’d seen since she’d been in le Voile, with light blue skin and feathery wings curled around him as he hunched over the desk.
The eyes dotting the feathers stared at her, unblinking, and his hair was neat, not the wild tendrils she remembered from the chase.
The only thing missing was the jagged smile carved into his face from when he had cornered her in the woods, and when he had visited her in her dreams.
“Do you need something, my dear?” he asked as she approached the desk.
“I wanted to thank you for the paints.”
Bellinor tore his attention from the book, eyeing her with suspicion.
“You don’t have to thank me for something you do not like.”
How had he come to that conclusion? Did he enjoy being upset about everything?
“I do like them.”
He huffed, crossing his arms over his chest.
“And yet you spend all of your time fucking Rul.”
Now it was her turn to scoff.
“If you stopped by to see me, you’d know that I’ve made progress on my painting. I got frustrated yesterday, and Rul offered to… help me relax. That’s all. I don’t usually paint still lifes.”
Bellinor nodded, though his eyes were narrowed as if he didn’t believe her.
“What do you normally like to paint?” he finally asked.
She could tell he was trying to look uninterested, flipping through the heavy book, but his eyes kept drawing to her like he was eagerly awaiting her answer.
“Landscapes, mostly. My forest,” she said, making her way up to the desk and sitting on the tabletop right next to his seat.
His gaze traced up her legs and body until it met her face, a strange expression overcoming him. She didn’t know what she was doing or what she wanted him to do, but was perfectly aware of how much her body felt electrified when she was in his presence.
“I’m going to try to finish the painting, though,” she added, uncomfortable with the silence. “Rul said I just need more practice.”
Bellinor nodded, his mouth pursed in thought.
“You two seem to get along quite well,” he noted, again pulling his gaze away from her and trying to look busy by skimming the worn pages of the book.
The thought that she was getting along with a demon who was complicit in her kidnapping made her sick to her stomach, especially because it was true. She’d never really had a friend, someone to spend time with and talk to, one that didn’t revolve around her devotion to the temple.
“Does that make you jealous?” she asked, lamenting the words as soon as they left her mouth.
Well, she had his full attention again, his brows furrowed into a glare.
“If I’m jealous, it’s simply because he connects with all our playthings with such ease. You’re no different from the others.”
The words stung, like the icy heat of a bitter cold day, tears burning at the corners of her eyes. He softened when he saw her expression, like perhaps he regretted saying it, but the damage had already been done.
“I didn’t say I was different,” she said quietly. “I know I’ll end up in le Voile, eventually.”
Now his eyes widened, shock writ clear on his sharp face.
“Who said that would happen?” he demanded.
Isabelle paused, unsure whether to answer truthfully.
“Rul told me that you let your playthings go home when you tire of them, but I don’t believe that for a second. Where else would you send them?”
The idea had been churning in her head since Rul had mentioned the others, and it was the only logical answer. Le Voile needed to be fed, didn’t it? And who better than the pathetic humans who had agreed to come here.
Without warning, Bellinor gripped her thigh, stilling her trembling leg. Her breath caught in her throat, and she swallowed hard, trying to control the pressure building within her, the touch electrifying her to awareness.
“Le Voile will not be claiming you,” he said, his voice a low growl.
“What if I want to go? What if my father’s there?”
The revelation of the black void had stoked the horrible thought, the tears spilling as she finally spoke it aloud, as if doing so would make it true.
“What?”
“He killed himself,” she explained between heaving breaths, the words tumbling out freely now that the dam of silence had been broken. “It’s a sin. My father died because of me, because I took away the one thing he loved most in this world.”
Bellinor shook his head somberly, lips pursed into a frown.
“That’s not how it works.”
“How do you know?” she snapped.
She tried to scoot away, but he gripped her thigh, refusing to let her go.
“I survived le Voile. Your father is not here.”
Isabelle sniffled hard as Bellinor rose to his feet, squeezing himself in between her legs and pulling her into a crushing hug.
Surprise jolted through her, and it took her a few moments to lay her head on his shoulder, slink her arms around his waist. Even if he was lying, the words brought her comfort, as did the warmth of his embrace.
“I do not know what your moon mother has claimed, but that is not what this place is.”
She slid her palms up his chest, tears still dotting her vision.
“What do you mean?”
“This place is not the abode of the dead. People who pass earthbound do not end up here.”
“Then where do they go?”
Her voice was hoarse, her body trembling in his grasp. Was he toying with her? Mocking her? It didn’t appear so, not with his somber tone and serious face, without a hint of mischief.
“That, I do not know. But they do not come here.”
“When I looked at le Voile, I saw…” she paused, trying to catch her breath, still her racing heart.
“It was a skull decaying in the forest. Covered in ivy and moss, like it had been there a long while. But it was more than that. It was… pure nothingness. A void. Eternal nonbeing. It was… my father, my mother. It was me.”
She knew she wasn’t making sense, but Bellinor just nodded along.
“Le Voile likes to show us the things that we fear the most. It is excess in all ways. Lust, fear, torment, euphoria. But is that the worst thing? To die and become nothing?”
He rubbed circles into her back, but she wouldn’t let herself be soothed so easily.
“We should all devote ourselves to reaching the Sanctum.”
“Why? Out of every death, a new life grows. Bodies decay in the soil, giving nutrients to the plants, which feed the animals. What’s so bad about that?”
“There should be more. We should have a purpose.”
“Maybe nourishing the earth is our purpose? Or perhaps the universe is absurd, and that is our eternal torment, the desire for meaning in a meaningless world.”
“Well, I choose to believe my life has meaning. I choose to have faith.”
None of it made sense, not with all she’d learned from the priestesses at the temple, from the moon mother’s lessons.
Bellinor ran his fingers through her hair, bringing her head to his body. They embraced for a long while, chests heaving in tandem, his heartbeat thumping in her ear. His wings curled around her like a feathery blanket, a warm cocoon of relief.
It was comforting to be in his arms despite the way he tried to challenge her. It was his melancholy, his despair at being stuck in a place like this for Goddess knows how long. He claimed this was not a place of eternal damnation, but how could it be anything but?
“I’m sorry about your father,” he said, breaking her from her thoughts, the tears burning at her eyes once more.
“We used to play chess together,” she rasped, her hands around his waist again, clasping him tight.
“I saw the board in your cottage. We can play sometime if you’d like.”
A small smile curled her lips, the offer warming some of the cold dread in her heart, taking her mind away from the confusion of le Voile.
“I’d like that.”
“Good,” he said, squeezing her. “You should get some rest. You’re safe here. We’ll keep you safe.”
Emotion welled in her chest, a bright burning light like the fire in the hearth, reminding her she was alive and that she had faith. She was still here. Life had a purpose.
But perhaps she could allow herself to take some small comfort in others, even if she didn’t believe their words.