Violet Shadows

20

In the breath of night, the streets were far tamer than any rancy day. They were standing over the old bridge, which was in the far end of the market's square, stretching from each end of the river. Christine watched the current flow from the shoulder of the mountain's groove beyond the townhouses before pouring into the ocean. Nicol was also absorbed, but his mind seemed to be on anything but the scenery. They were in the middle of the bridge, just small specs to the tide that lay.

There came a point when Christine began watching him, studying him as if she were an artist and he were a painting. But she was only looking at him as a character in the book. "Have you never actually fallen in love before?"

Nicol blanked, stirring from his thoughts. "Where is this coming from?"

Yes. Where was this coming from? It was no ordinary question. Christine knew of her situation, but beyond it all, she was a girl living in a book. There were things she did want to ask him, ask them. The characters that were somehow beings. When she read, she saw the characters. Saw them live out their adventures, murmuring their last breaths before dying or stealing kisses across pages. And yet, she had been so absorbed in her misery, so anxious of what was to come, that she'd forgotten that the curtain that used to divide those visions from reality had been lifted. She could ask what she willed. She could find out what she wanted.

And the first thing she wanted to ask him was about his life.

"Why not?" Christine said, intrigue tainting every word. "I'm sure there'd be a dozen girls swooning over you." There probably were.

"They are."

"So then I'm right. Why haven't you been with any of them?" Even if her question was impersonal, she wanted to know. And it wasn't as if he were a man, he was just a character. In What Wish So Haunted, no one was more beloved by the masses such as him, and no one was so unattainable. His heart was hoarded like gold. He did not allow himself to be with anyone. Not even one girlfriend—no, that was wrong. Not even one lover. Because boyfriends and girlfriends were called lovers in this world. Christine detested it this way. It made dating sound so gaudy, so formal and less appealing.

"Nonsense," He replied, his golden eyes watching the river. "I can't be with anyone because I'm the son of the Head of House Rumiere."

Christine reserved herself to watching the river as well. "That's not an answer." She said softly. It wasn't as if he was the only child, the heir to his High House. He had a fountain full of other siblings which is where the neglect tied in. The pressure didn't only weigh on him, but then what?

"I do not wish to make the wrong choice."

Christine blinked in surprise. "Do you mean when you have to choose a wife?" Marriage—of course. Because that's all that mattered in this spine-laced world. Matrimony that brought power. Succession through children, and opportunities through blood. "Having a lover is not about getting married, it's about trying things out. Seeing what sorts of things you like in a partner and don't like. It's supposed to be a casual affair, not a lifelong commitment."

Nicol said, "Is that why you've had hundreds of lovers?"

She stomached the low blow towards Roma. "We're not talking about me. We're talking about you."

A smile bloomed on his face. "Why are you so interested?"

She pulled the cloak tighter around her shoulders, having been unaccustomed to the nighttime chill. She spared a glance at him, cold and all. "Because you've done so many things and yet falling in love is not one of them."

He met her eyes, the silence filled by the laughter of children on the streets. "Truth be told, I've never been interested in it. I think it's a waste of time."