Page 78 of The Beautiful Ones

Adrian’s gaze shifted to me.

“Her heart will continue to beat. She will hunger, sleep and wake. Time will touch her, though not as it touches you. She may leave us if she wishes, but she cannot return to the girl she was this morning. No road permits that.”

Cécile pressed her free hand to her throat.

“And my voice?”

“Is yours.”

“Will you make it easy again?”

“No.”

The answer startled both of us.

Adrian lowered his hand without withdrawing the offer.

“What I gave you before was borrowed ease. It taught you the danger of mistaking fluency for freedom. If you travel with us, your words may still catch. They may fail when you most desire them. We will wait.”

Cécile’s eyes filled.

“Always?”

“As long as the word requires.”

She drew one slow breath and placed her hand in his.

Nothing miraculous happened.

No frost climbed her skin. No silver voice poured from her throat. Her brown eyes remained brown, wet with grief and red at the rims. Adrian simply closed his fingers around hers and waited while she gathered the words she had chosen.

“I w-will go.”

The blue fire bowed in the broken windows.

“Cécile!”

Madame Lebon stood upon the terrace with a square rosewood casket clutched against her breast. Smoke had darkened one side of her gown, and the diamonds she had gone to retrieve glittered through the open lid. Behind her, the music room burned with a light so blue that the pianoforte appeared black against it.

“Come away from him,” she ordered.

Cécile did not release Adrian.

“Come away from the house.”

“They murdered your father.”

“Father murdered first.”

Madame Lebon descended one step. “And you would reward them by joining them?”

“I am not a reward.”

The sentence came slowly, broken in two places, but not one of us looked away.

Her mother’s face tightened.

“You are confused. You are grieving. Give me your hand, and we will find Lucien. The Georges will shelter us until your father’s attorneys restore what can be restored.”