Chapter 19
ISABELLE’S STOMACH TURNED AS she peered into the inky crevasse, the darkness so complete she couldn’t see the bottom.
She had her palm pressed to the wall, the thin ridge under her only a couple of feet across as she and Rul made their way along the slender path. They were in a canyon of sorts, though with walls made of white marble, heading toward an opening up ahead.
There were surreal sculptures projecting from the smooth walls, a face as large as a whole person with water streaming from the eyes, and a hand reaching out, palm to the sky, like it was beckoning someone.
Le Jardin had endless rooms to explore, each one more remarkable than the last, and Isabelle wondered if she’d ever be able to see them all.
As they came out of the narrow canyon with Rul leading the way, a vast expanse stretched before them, glistening white towers extending from the darkness and into the cloudy sky above.
A cool breeze tickled her skin, the space strangely absent of noise, just the faint sound of waves crashing in the distance.
Like everything in le Voile, it was beautiful and absurd, a sense of unease permeating the eerie space.
Rul took her hand and squeezed, perhaps sensing her disquiet, a dashing smile pulling at his lips. Her heart swelled, and though she hadn’t repeated her words from the last session in the red room, she felt them with every fiber of her being.
Had it really been an accident that she ended up here? Deep down, she knew what Bellinor had meant when he had chased her through the woods. When she had told him that she was his. She could have said no, relieved her lust with Henri or Pierre, but that was not what she had wanted.
Perhaps that was the very first time she had chosen herself, truly and unabashedly given into her needs, as twisted as they were.
Though she spent many hours in the faux cottage Bellinor had created for her, she was feeling the urge to return to Marilet less and less with each passing day.
A return would mean being alone once again, alone and yet surrounded by others who knew nothing of her truth.
People who expected things of her, but never gave anything in return.
Priestesses who made her feel like a failure no matter how hard she tried to honor Celeste.
Men who craved something she couldn’t give them, who saw a perfect image of what they wanted from her instead of who she truly was.
A cottage that had once felt like the only safe space in her life, but was increasingly reminding her of her grief.
With Rul and Bellinor, she felt herself able to fully give in, to accept that they wanted to use her and cherish her and care for her in a way that no one ever had.
She could be her whole self without fear of rejection, no matter how inhuman or debased her desires were.
She trusted them to give her the pain she needed, but in a way that no longer felt like simply a punishment, but something sublime.
Suffering was not her pathway to salvation, because she no longer wanted to be saved.
She wanted to revel in the ecstasy of agony, to relinquish the control she clung to.
It had been easier to seek pain as a way to atone, a way to focus her inner turmoil on external sensations.
She could control those feelings by punishing herself, hoping it would lead to the validation she so desperately craved.
With Celeste, she was powerless, but with Rul and Bellinor, she held power she never thought she could.
They needed her just as much as she needed them.
In the throes of passion, she had unearthed things that were unhealed, things she needed to address as a way to move through the grief of her life.
She had avoided thinking about it for so long, focusing on her guilt because it was easier than admitting what had truly happened.
She had lost her mother before she could ever know the woman, lost her father as well.
When she had most needed acceptance, she was shamed, made to feel deficient for giving in to her desires.
For craving love from someone other than the moon mother.
Even in the crowded temple, she had been alone, but no longer.
“What do you think, sweetheart?” Rul asked, breaking her from her thoughts.
There were so many things she wanted to say, but she gave him a smile instead.
“It’s unreal.”
He smirked, releasing her hand and gesturing dramatically with both arms.
“What is real?
Towers touching the sky,
a weeping statue,
an endless expanse.
A cottage in the woods,
the kiss of a lover,
the illusory power
of an apoplectic human.”
Isabelle raised a brow, attempting to comprehend the words when suddenly, there was a deep rumbling like a peal of thunder, the towers quaking with shuddering fury.
Isabelle waved her arms, trying to maintain her footing while the marble ridge quaked, her stomach flipping as she lost her balance and pitched into the crevasse.
The void enveloped her as she let out a piercing scream, not wanting to leave Rul and Bellinor behind.
A vision of the skull flashed through her mind, decayed, consumed by the earth, the never-ending cycle of life and death.
Eternal nothingness spread before her, a black maw devouring her, and she felt… peace.
The moment stretched on, both a flash and an eternity, until there were hands under her arms, a weightless sensation making her head spin.
Darkness transformed into light, and she was flying through the cool air, Rul’s firm grip bringing her back to reality.
His wings thumped as they beat through the sky, carrying her to the platform they’d begun on when they’d first entered the room.
He set her lightly on her feet before spinning her and pulling her into his arms, their hearts beating as one, the warmth of his body easing her gasping breaths.
“I was beginning to think you couldn’t actually fly,” Isabelle said, leaning back so she could see his face.
Rul’s wide-eyed stare turned into a snarky grin, that sweet look that sent her heart fluttering.
“Of course I can fly!” he said, cupping her cheek. “Are you alright?”
“I’m fine, thanks to you.” She tried to give him a reassuring smile, though her limbs still felt shaky. “What was that?”
He waved his hand.
“Don’t worry about it.”
Don’t worry about it? Not the response she expected after she’d almost fallen to her death.
“I am worried. That hasn’t happened before. Why did–”
Rul silenced her with a kiss, his lips tasting of sweetened red wine, her body going lax. He gripped her waist, and she circled her arms around his shoulders, melting even as unanswered questions raced through her mind.
“Bellinor will take care of it,” he whispered against her lips as he pulled away, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.
She narrowed her eyes, but bit her tongue, knowing she would get no more out of him.
At least for now. But she could see something in his expression that concerned her, his smile not as genuine as she had come to expect.
She hugged him, feeling the comfort of his embrace despite the artifice of normalcy, the tumble into the void shaking her to her core.
Isabelle ate dinner with Bellinor and Rul, the same as always, nibbling away at small plates of food as the men conversed. There was a peculiar energy in the room, like a rain cloud was hovering just overhead, though no one seemed willing to explain anything.
She observed them closely, noticing how they both filled every moment of silence without really saying anything at all. She responded simply when they brought her into the conversation, but as dessert had rolled around, she left her macarons uneaten on the porcelain plate.
“Did you feel the tremor?” she asked, eyes focused on Bellinor.
He turned to her with furrowed brows, a frown etched into his handsome blue face.
“I did,” he said, with no further explanation.
“Well? Rul said you’d take care of it. What does that mean?”
Bellinor delivered a fierce glare Rul’s way before softening his gaze on her once again.
“Don’t concern your pretty little head with that, my dear.”
Before she could argue, there was a loud clatter, and she jerked around to see a servant with its hands at its sides, the silver tray that had carried the desserts on the ground at its feet.
Something that could certainly be seen as an accident, but these weren’t normal servants.
They were automatons created from le Voile.
She had never seen one so much as spill a drop of wine, let alone create such a commotion.
When she whirled back to the table, Bellinor’s face was a mask of fury; if someone could kill with a look, then the servant would have been dead right then and there.
Rul was wide-eyed, with that same uncomfortable smile he’d been wearing since the tremor, like something terrible was moments away from happening and he wanted to spare her the worry.
“Get out,” Bellinor hissed, and the servant seemed to awaken, grabbing the tray and hurrying from the room.
Everyone was silent for a long moment, as if Bellinor and Rul were trying to come up with some sort of excuse for the bizarre behavior, but Isabelle was quicker.
“What is going on?” she asked, standing and pressing her palms to the table.
She stared Bellinor down, trying to hold steady as she awaited an answer. A creeping sensation tingled her nerves, a deep-seated dread coming to life after she’d been lulled into complacency.
“Take her to her room,” Bellinor said, the order directed at Rul, though he continued to meet her gaze.
Rul stood, coming around and placing his hands on her waist, but she shook out of his grasp, backing up to the wall until her arms pressed to the cool stone.
She had no hope of fighting them off, but their strange reactions frightened her, their unwillingness to answer her questions raising her alarms.
Had she imagined everything? The tenderness and care they seemed to show her? Rul saying he loved her? Goddess, had it all been a trick?
What were they trying to hide?
“Please, just tell me what’s happening,” she begged, glancing between the two as Bellinor stood, approaching her from one side while Rul did the same from the other.
“You need to trust us,” Bellinor said, extending a hand, which she refused to take.
“No! Tell me what’s going on, right now!” she yelled, her voice echoing up to the high ceiling.
Bellinor grabbed her arms, and she struggled, to no avail, Rul coming up behind her and hugging her tight.
“Sleep, Isabelle,” Bellinor whispered. “It’s for your own good. We will keep you safe.”
Her eyelids grew heavy, her body slumping into Rul’s as the room went dark.