Chapter Five
Cynara
The hotel in San Remo was delightful. I must confess, it was such a relief to be off the tiny airship and be able to move about. The suite assigned me was most commodious, with an attached bath that was nearly as elegant as the one in the Comte’s chateau. The first thing I did was take a long, luxurious bath, and then sit in front of my dressing table to brush out my hair as it dried.
Henri entered without knocking or even announcing himself as a civilized person would do. I jumped when I noticed his reflection in the mirror behind mine. My mind had been elsewhere, which excused me from hearing his approach. I gasped in surprise and whirled around, leaning against the small dressing table as I willed my heart to calm down. It was only Henri. Dark, moody, dangerous. But still Henri. I frowned in an attempt to hide my shock and grabbed the silver fan, which matched my dress to perfection.
“How may I help you?” I asked.
He didn’t answer, and I didn’t care for the gleam in his eye as he examined my appearance. I’d been present at the highest galas and social functions Paris had to offer for the past three years. So I knew what I was doing when it came to preparing for the little Mardi Gras ball here in San Remo. Henri was simply admiring the effect. At least, this is what I tried to tell myself. I sighed at his silence and began to move past him to the door when he grabbed me by the waist. Henri pulled me to him, breathing in my perfume as if I were still his lover and not his prisoner.
However, I had not forgotten that fact. I stiffened beneath his touch, snapping the fan against my side as I tried to pull away. “Release me, Henri.”
He ignored me, pulling me even closer to him until I was pressed against his chest. I closed my eyes, trying to ignore the memories of our torrid past together brought on by his familiar scent of tobacco and cologne. Henri was my enemy. The man who had been too much of a coward to dispose of me himself, leaving his Witchfinders to do his dirty work for him.
Yet my body ignored these thoughts. My dark desires betrayed me. I relaxed with a sigh.
When he finally spoke, it was to whisper a vow against my exposed neck. “Your life is mine to take, Cynara. And you will die the moment I decide upon how to do it.”
His words were too much like the cold waters I’d been forced to endure in the laboratory at Claremont Manor. I lifted my head, meeting his eyes, as I replied with a tone that matched the sudden chill in the air.
“And your life is mine. Though I can promise you only this, Henri. You will die long before I ever will.”
***
The ballroom was filled when I arrived on Henri’s arm. I at once set about charming the strangers who surrounded us. After all, one never knew when such meetings could be useful in the future. But I was still angry with Henri. Or perhaps livid would be a better description. I could not forget the harsh promises binding us together, one to the other. I cursed him for being a distraction on this evening, which held such promise. After my captivity at Claremont, and being forced into this horrid mission for the Witchfinder, I felt nothing but envy for the well-dressed men and women intent on passing the night in the haze only good spirits could offer.
“Monsieur d’Estes, Mademoiselle des Jardin, over here.” Our captain pushed her way through the crowd with Simon close behind. Lady Abigail had outdone herself tonight, pulling her thick auburn hair to the top of her head to expose her slender shoulders. Her rich amber gown was simple, yet it added to her allure. I could understand Simon’s attraction to this amazing woman. She was a beauty.
However, I did not miss the gleam in Simon’s eye as he caught sight of me, and I’ll admit I wasted no time to relieve myself of Henri’s arm.
“Why, Mr. Thorne!” I gave him my hand and smiled as he bowed over it. “You do look—oh, what is the word you British use? Smacking?”
He laughed at my attempt. “Smashing, Mademoiselle. Smashing.”
“That is the very word.” I looked him over, barely hearing his own compliments toward myself. Simon was tall. Extremely handsome, with his golden eyes and bright red hair. His suit fit his lean frame to perfection. I was just getting ready to respond when I heard Lady Abigail call to Henri over the crowd.
“Why, thank you, monsieur. Simon was able to secure us a table. Let us get out of this dreadful sea of lace and satin, shall we?”
Henri agreed and took her arm.
Simon offered me his. He leaned in, speaking louder than normal so that I could make him out over the orchestra set up across the ballroom. “Are you well, mademoiselle? Is your suite to your liking?”
“I am quite well.” I tilted my head and smiled at him. “And of course! Though I will admit it is strange to have such a large amount of space again. I am not quite sure what to do with it all.”
Simon released me as we stopped at the table he had secured for us. It was close enough to the floor that I could feel the air from dancers circling in time to the waltz. I soon grew bored with the clamor of conversation at our table as more people joined us, friends and acquaintances of Lady Abigail or Simon, but I never once let it show. Instead, I joined in on their chatter as if I had known these étrangers for years instead of mere minutes. We kept the conversation light while I caught up on the scandals I missed during my weeks of imprisonment.
Indeed, I was sharing a particularly amusing story concerning a gala thrown last spring by the nouveau riche crowd in Paris when Henri asked to be excused. The others were laughing, distracting Abigail, so he slipped away without any trouble. But as I finished my tale involving a rogue servant and the daughter of a Parisian official, I kept glancing at him. He approached a woman dressed in vivid red—a color no respectable person would wear—and the two of them disappeared into the shadows.
“Mademoiselle, would you allow me the pleasure?” Simon bowed and extended his hand. It took only a second for me to accept his invitation, swallowing the last bit of my wine as I stood. He led me out onto the dance floor in the middle of the waltz, so I laughed as he swept me up into the motions and we began to swirl in time with the others. I tilted my head back, examining the mirth with a smile.
“I will admit, I am surprised, my dear Simon. I was not expecting to dance tonight.”
“I’m surprised you accepted the invitation from me, mademoiselle. Every man who has stopped by our table would love to be in my current position. Yet, you’ve ignored them all.”
“And be guilty of incivility? Never! Besides,” I laughed, shifting my speed as the music increased. “I have become quite fond of you, and in such a short time. I doubt I would refuse you anything.”
Simon tightened his hold around my waist, and my heart pounded as I was suddenly aware of how close we were. How strong he seemed. The light friendship I’d taken comfort in these past few days shifted within mere seconds to an electrical charge, and it startled me. My dancing partner noticed the change around us as well, for he loosened the pressure of his hand. But he kept me close to him, far closer than was required by the simple Five-Step Waltz.
These celebrations were supposed to filled with gaiety, so when Simon broke our silence by making jokes about our fellow dancers, I fell in step with him. It was lovely, having this time with him. Though I couldn’t help but notice Henri had returned after his disappearance with the trollop. And he was watching every move we made.
So I threw myself into the evening, enjoying the wines as they poured and the dances with Simon when he asked. It had been quite some time since I’d been privy to such an occasion, and I’d be damned if I allowed Henri to spoil it for me.
***
The sun was blinding, striking against the snowy-white expanse of table cloth between Henri and me. Lady Abigail had landed us in San Remo the day before, and she was busy making the necessary contacts to ensure we continued on our way to our next stop, the city of Alexandria in Egypt.
I suppose I should have been pleased. After our last episode together, Henri had returned to his former self, save for the cold undercurrent beneath his words whenever he spoke to me in private. He was reading the morning papers out loud, an article detailing the events scheduled for the Mardi Gras celebration beginning that very evening. From the look in his dark eyes, I could tell he wanted to attend. Nothing like easy liquor and easier women to make Henri happy
I ignored the waiter bringing food to the table, focusing instead on sipping juice to aid in relieving my headache from the night before. As I was prone to do, I had partaken too much of the excellent wine, as well as the dancing, which had reminded me of better, happier days. And despite my healing abilities, I was paying for my indulgence this morning.
I shifted my attention to Henri as he snapped the newspaper closed and examined me critically.
“You’re pale, my darling.” He spoke French, and I felt my heart swell at the sound of my native tongue, quite the loveliest in all the world, and the endearment he had used for me so often. “Did you enjoy yourself last night?”
“Indeed, I did.” I raised the glass, took another sip as aching stars shimmered behind my eyes. “Though it is quite bright this morning.”
“I suppose it is, at that.” He rustled the paper, and I could clearly see his irritation. “I trust Monsieur Thorne enjoyed himself as well?”
His voice was ice, and I was curious at the sudden change. It was true that we had attended the festivities the night before, and Simon and I had certainly danced together a number of times. But this was indeed only because both Henri and Lady Abigail had begged to be excused; they had spent their time with their heads together, discussing I knew not what.
I could think of no ready response to Henri’s question. “He seemed to.” I shrugged.
I jumped when he slammed the newspaper against the table, hard enough to rattle the plates and silver. Henri glowered in his fit of temper, so frequent these days; he seized my wrist and jerked me toward him. “You belong to me, Cynara. As does the fortune you insist on hiding from me. If I so much as see you speak with your Monsieur Thorne again, I will have him killed.”
“Henri! You would not dare such a thing!”
“I mean every word. Don’t think for a second I am going to let someone else come in and take what is mine by birth and by right.”
I felt the heat of my anger rising up to my face as I jerked my arm free from his grasp. “You have become the most unreasonable—”
Henri sat back suddenly, the easy expression returning to his face so quickly that for a moment, I was sure I had imagined the whole event.
I rubbed my wrist then pushed back my chair and stood. “I have no master, monsieur, and no claim has been placed upon me or mine. I will thank you to remember that.” I left him then, but turned in doorway and said, “As for Sim—as for Monsieur Thorne, if I were you, I would choose my threats with care. His mistress may take offense at them, and I think she may well be a dangerous woman.”
I swept from the room, nodding to the Lady Abigail who had appeared in the hall. At first she did not even seem to see me, then she raised an eyebrow and nodded before continuing toward the sun room.
When I reached my chambers I shut the curtains to the gleaming ocean below, welcoming the dimness. I needed time to think. To decide what I should do. France was so close; I could see her lovely flag beckoning me home. I could dispose of Henri this very day and escape to Paris this very evening.
Yet despite the harm he had done me, despite my desire to see him dead, I could not ignore the sharp pain that filled my heart at the thought of not seeing him again. His dark moods aside, I couldn’t release myself from him. Not yet. Not until my heart promised not to shatter if he were no more.
I hated myself for this weakness. Yet it was there nonetheless, and I could not ignore it. I knew he didn’t truly love me. The fact that he had sent the Witchfinders after me was proof of that. My own foolish nature had insisted on believing the charm in his former words and the softness in his past caresses. So much so that it had become much too easy to discard the violence he was intent on committing.
But I knew I would have to let him go. Henri had once charmed himself into my heart and my bed. I was clinging to that past, to the faint memory of love in my loveless life. I kept hoping for him to shift back—even if briefly—from the monster he’d become to the man I had once known. But I knew he would not. Henri was my opium. My addiction. One I wasn’t sure I would be able to cure myself of.
I threw myself across the bed, gritting my teeth against the pounding in my head as I willed myself to sleep. The rest eluded me as my mind refused to release the memories of my time with Henri in Paris. Memories of him holding me, dance after dance, and refusing to let another man take his place by my side. I sat up suddenly. I had an idea, and my laughter filled the air at the images.
If Henri was indeed insistent on being jealous, perhaps I could show him my words regarding his ridiculous claims were truth. I would come and I would go, I would dance and I would love, as I saw fit.
I would be sure to keep my promises to the Witchfinder, if only so I could live my life in peace. But I would enjoy my time in San Remo, and I would enlist the help of the one person Henri had tried to ban me from seeing.
Simon.
***
I had arranged for us to meet after midnight, long after Henri and Lady Abigail retired for the evening. I checked the mirror in my room one last time, gave a few quick adjustments to the green-and-white dress I had ordered the previous day and placed the silvery-feathered mask on my face. Moments later I slipped from my room. Others, as elegantly dressed and masked, passed me in the hallway, all no doubt heading out into the streets for celebration. I stopped when I came upon the corner of the lobby where I had requested Simon meet me. At no time during our day had he given any inclination he was going to join me that evening. Yet I knew if I had gotten this far with my plans, he hadn’t shared them with anyone else.
“Mademoiselle, you look enchanting!”
I turned and could not help but admire the effect of his white suit on his long frame. “Et tu aussi, monsieur.”
Simon bowed over my hand then tucked it in the crook of his arm; we made our way into the night air.
“Thank you for coming with me, Simon.”
His free hand pressed against his chest and he laughed. “Well, when I received your invitation for this evening, I knew I had to come along. An obligation, if you will, to ensure your safety.
“Obligation?” I laughed out loud. “Then I understand your participation had nothing to do with an opportunity to show off your wonderful costume?”
“Oh, not at all.” Simon smiled down at me. “But I do thank you for it.”
His tone was jovial but before I could pursue my teasing of him, the noise in the streets began in earnest. Music from the orchestra set up on the square floated toward the sea as the patrons surrounding us were shouting and drinking in earnest. Simon twirled me around once on the street, and we were swept up in the madness of the night.
Wines of every kind were forced upon us, and we took them all too readily. Even in the glow of the gas lamps, I could tell when the spirits began to go to Simon’s head. His accent became stronger, more slurred, while his cheeks flushed beneath his mask. I will admit, I was enjoying the wines too much, and his company even more. I began to stumble with others worse in their drink than I.
I tightened my grip on Simon’s, but only to keep myself upright, that was true. Strangely, though, an apprehension began to fill me as the night wore on. I felt as if something heavy had been placed upon my shoulders, or as if my corset were squeezing the very air from my lungs. Several hours had passed since we had first begun to mingle and dance in the streets, when at last my fear became so strong I had to swallow back a scream.
Fortunately, drunk though he was, Simon took notice of my distress. He pushed us through those much worse than ourselves until we came upon an empty promenade overlooking the sea. With a gentle touch he helped me onto a stone bench closest to the sea wall. I smiled my thanks, taking a sip of the wine in my hand, before he sat down beside me.
“I must be honest with you, Simon. There is more than one reason I asked you to come with me tonight,” I began with some care.
He chuckled, taking another sip from the glass in his hand before turning to me. “Ah, the ulterior motive. And here I was certain it was because we enjoy each other’s company so.”
I couldn’t help myself; I laughed at him. His hideously green silk top hat sat askew on his head, and the top knot of his necktie was loose. Even in the shifting light around us I could see the humor in his eyes through his mask. I reached up, brushed his cheek with my finger and smiled as the blush bloomed upon it.
“Has anyone told you how extraordinary your eyes are, mon ami?”
Often my words slipped out before I could hold them back, and this time was no exception. I noted how the flush on his skin seemed to darken and how quick he was to seize my hand before I could pull it away. Simon leaned closer, and my breath caught against the back of my throat as those golden eyes examined me.
“The same could be said about your own, mademoiselle. Tell me, Cynara, are you truly a witch? I simply cannot believe it.”
I sipped the ruby liquid in my own glass, tilting my head as I considered the question. Yet such considerations escaped me. My mind had become shifty. Fuzzy.
Instead, I responded with a giggle. “I am. Truly.”
“Then tell me of your history. Nothing about your dastardly Henri, mind you, for I do not care for him. Tell me everything else.”
Perhaps it was the wine that broke down my barriers. Or perhaps it was the kindness radiating off Simon, still with my free hand in his. In either case, I drained my glass and began: “I was not born into wealth, mon ami. My parents were both servants on an estate outside of Paris.” I felt my memories take me; it was almost as if I were a child again. “It was a good life then. I was loved and well cared for. But life changes. It shifts when you least expect it. I was ten when my parents were sent away, and I with them.”
I shuddered as the pain, so frequent in my nightmares, resurfaced. Indeed, I feared the truth of my words was tainted by those same dreams as I told him of my childhood and of how my parents were arrested for crimes they did not commit. His hand tightened around my own as I described their deaths.
“I had heard they were scheduled to die in the town’s center. It was the first time I had ever laid eyes upon a guillotine. I was a child—alone, afraid. My world had been ripped away from me on the day of their arrests, and I was determined to follow them whatever happened. I saw them, bound, jeered at by the crowd…and I ran up the steps of the platform. A guard threw me back with the threat I would be next if I failed to behave.” I paused. “The blade fell twice, and I was an orphan.”
Simon had grown pale now, the flush gone from his face.
I shivered against the winds picking up around us before I continued. “I spent the next four years on the streets of Paris. I survived as any urchin would. I begged from those who would take pity on me. Slept in the unattended basements of shops. As I grew older, my beauty became more pronounced, as did my talent for picking pockets. Stealing became easier. That is how I met my benefactor.” I could not help but smile at the memory. “Monsieur le Comte caught me as I tried to charm him away from his wallet, and took me home with him. He was a good man, Simon. Very good. He taught me how to become a lady. How to be who I am today. He…he perished some two years ago, and I have not been the same since.”
“This comte, he was Henri’s uncle?”
I nodded. “Actually, Henri’s mother’s uncle. The comte, he never married, never had any children, at least to my knowledge. And truly, I was surprised he continued to take care of me so well. That day he caught me with my hand in his pocket, he could have beaten me for my thievery and turned me over to the gendarmes, and be right in doing so. Instead he saved me.”
I pulled my hand from Simon’s grasp and stood up, moving shakily away from the bench to lean against the waist-high stone wall protecting us from the drop to the sea below. Simon stayed where he was for only a moment before joining me.
“I have told my histoire and bared my soul,” I said as cheerfully as my dark memories would allow, “so do tell me about your own. You did promise to share your history with Lady Abigail, did you not?”
I smiled up at him from my spot on the balcony wall. Simon had opened his mouth to reply when his response was cut off, suddenly, by a strange shifting of the ground beneath us. Another, and yet another movement, as though the very earth itself had paused its journey then started up again with a stuttering motion.
For an instant there was nothing but heavy silence in the air. Then screams and the crashing of bricks and stones replaced the silence.
Again the earth moved beneath me. My balance deserted me, and I gasped as I fell against my companion. My dearest friend, dare I say my only friend, was quicker to recover than I. Simon grabbed me and held me tight; we huddled against what little protection the low wall could offer.
“Earthquake!” Simon shouted, but it was hard to hear him as the shaking grew ever worse.
I clung to him and a thought came unbidden. He’s protecting me. Just as Jean-Pierre would do, did do, for so long…
I lost myself to the image of the beloved face, the beloved name calming me through my fear.
I grabbed the lapels of Simon’s coat and forced a kiss upon him with a passion that I had shared with no other since Comte Jean-Pierre des Jardin’s death almost two years before. To my surprise Simon returned my kiss with an enthusiasm I had not expected. I knew he loved his Lady Abigail. I knew I should resist both my desires and his own. But it felt so good to be wrapped in his strong arms, his tender mouth pressed gently yet eagerly against mine. I tasted the wine we had both drunk, smelled the faint odor of clean linen and warm maleness, and I was lost.
At once, as if from nowhere, I found myself enthralled, delirious, mesmerized by the strange feeling of Simon’s warm body against me, reveling in the softness of his lips. He was tender. Slow. As he tightened his grip on my waist, I fought back the desire rushing through me. It was wrong. Dangerous.
And absolutely delicious.
And so, during that most unexpected of embraces, the world roared in its destruction and pulled us down with it into darkness and utter despair.
***
I hissed in Simon’s ear. “Simon, by all the gods above, stay still! Silence, I beg!”
His eyelids began to flutter, and relief to see him alive filled me with joy.
When I had awakened I found we were not in the damaged streets of my last memory, but chained to a wall in a dank stone room smelling of decay. A man with a scarred face leered in at me through a grating in the heavy door; he disappeared before I could interrogate him.
Simon was sprawled unconscious in a pile of damp hay. He must have broken one leg and perhaps the other. As to whether this had happened in the earthquake or since, I had no way of knowing. At once, I used my powers to knit Simon’s bones back together and though they had healed before I dared try to wake him, I knew he must still be quite weak.
I rattled my chains and blessed the Lady I had been near enough to touch him and cure him.
Another poor soul, whimpering softly though he did not speak, was not so lucky as I; he was chained in the dark corner farthest from us. Though I felt pity for him, there was nothing I could do. Perhaps when we found a way out of this place we could take him with us. But at this moment, my focus was only on our escape.
Simon, poor boy, could be little or no help at all, at least for a time.
“What did you say, madame?” A man’s coarse voice echoed through the room.
I looked up to see the guard had returned to watch, and this time he had a companion. From what I could gather through their improper and broken Italian, we had been snatched from the earthquake’s rubble by bandits who were intent on picking the bodies clean of their riches as they had relieved us of ours. As soon as I’d recovered my senses, I had realized my jewels were gone, and Simon’s valuables as well. But since we were alive, it seemed they believed we could perhaps be ransomed.
“Nothing more than a prayer, monsieur.” I stood and wiped my hands in vain against my filthy skirt. “This man is in need of a doctor. He will die if he does not see one soon. And I can assure you your master will not receive any payment for the dead.”
“Oh, but she deceives you!” The man who shared our plight cackled in his madness, shaking the chains holding him in the shadows. “A devil’s woman, she is! Healed that man. His bones were broken, and now they are whole! Magic. I have seen it!”
The guard opened the cage door and made his careful way across the uneven floor. I winced as he delivered a sharp kick to Simon’s ribs. My companion had been silent until that moment, but now he groaned and let loose a string of curses. Simon rolled over on his side, gasping for breath, and glared at the man before turning his focus to me. The same relief I had felt before appeared in his face. He struggled to rise but fell back flat against his pile of straw.
“Lies!” I shouted.
The guard whirled in my direction, and I turned my head away as he raised his fist in my direction. But the blow I expected never came. I faced him once more and saw his wrist in Simon’s grasp.
“I wouldn’t do that, sir,” Simon said, his voice as light as if he were asking the time. “I would see your actions as a grave insult and be forced to act.”
“Release him.” Another man, just as ragged as the guard, stood at the open door with a pistol aimed directly at Simon’s head. “Now.”
Simon dropped the man’s arm and moved to stand by my side, his own chains rattling. I could see he was full of questions, but I couldn’t answer them. Not now. I took his hand, squeezing it once to beg his patience. The guard retreated toward his companion, his rapid speech detailing the events. The man continued to aim his weapon at us, but his expression became more interested.
“A healer, is she? Indeed. We’ll take her to the padrone. He will tell us what to do.” The bandit grinned as he gestured to me with his weapon. “Come with us, my lovely.”
“This is most irregular, gentlemen,” Simon began.
The guard faced my friend. I held my breath as I watched him strike fiercely out at Simon, knocking him to the rough floor.
“Stop, I pray you!” I shouted. “I will accompany you willingly. Give me only a moment, s’il vous plait, and I will join you.” I knelt next to Simon. “I will negotiate our release, mon ange, do not fear. Only trust me.”
It was all I could manage before the brute in the cell grabbed my arms and shoved me into the rough grasp of the second bandit who waited with impatience.
I followed them quietly, though I examined with interest their crude weapons. Each of them had long knives. But the second bandit carried a gun such as I had never seen before. And it rested loosely in his belt.
If only I can get my hands on it…
I stopped when one pushed open a door hanging crooked on its hinges. It opened with a despairing creak. Three men were in the small room, one far bigger and somewhat older than the others; his head was covered with a mop of white curls. All sat at a table filled with what could only be the spoils stolen from the victims of the earthquake. On top lay my emerald necklace, its chain twisted amidst other trinkets that dulled in comparison. I resisted the urge to reach out and snatch it as my guards began to explain why they had brought me, each tripping over the other’s words in their desire to speak. I tore my gaze away when the man sitting between them raised his hand.
Silence fell.
“What is the meaning of this, fratello mio?” asked the white-haired man. “I would have sent for the woman if I were in need of her. Take her back to her cell.”
“She is a healer, padrone! A healer! Proof of her power was witnessed only a few minutes before.”
“Explain,” he rapped.
The two men kept interrupting each other as they told what they had seen in the cell.
I waited until they had finished before I spoke. “Monsieur, if you are in need of a healer, I will offer my services to you. But only if you will ensure our release.”
Their leader stood and moved around the table, motioning for his men to back away from me as he approached. He circled me once before stopping just before me. “A bargain, then?” He laughed, raising the gun from his hip. It was different than the ones carried by his other man. This one was bronze, with crystals inset in the metal.
Given any other circumstance, I would have admired it. Now, as he raised it and pressed it against my heart, I refused to acknowledge it.
“You have no say in the matters here, madame. Nor shall you attempt to negotiate with the likes of men. You will remain here with us. My decision is final.”
“Are you mad? I will do no such thing.”
“Perhaps you believe this now, mia bellezza. But you will come to accept your new fate in time.”
I pulled myself up to my full height, glaring at him. “I am not afraid of you. And you cannot keep us here against our will. Now, as I was saying, I will be more than happy to assist your men, but we will not be subject to these abuses.”
The bandit raised the gun, firing it once into the ceiling. I was so startled by the closeness of it that he received a brief cry from me that I cried out. He then grabbed my wrists and restrained them with a chain that had hung from his belt.
The horrible man lifted me up and threw me into the corner of the room. “She is too useful. Too valuable to sell for gold. We shall keep her. And my lovely one,” the bandit leaned in so close that I could smell his stinking garlic breath, “you will fear us. You will be very much afraid.”