Protection

Chapter Twelve

Her heart raced. Her knees buckled. 

    They had came for him that morning, finding him with her. And they laughed and taunted and thirsted so violently for blood. How evil they were, she thought.

 But she watched from the crowd, and realizing with terror she could be next. She could next follow her parents and her Adrien into the mist. She did not know what happened when one died. She wondered if it would hurt. She wondered if Adrien would awake in heaven or in hell.

   "Hell," her conscience whispered, and she bowed her face as her tears fell.

She had known it was wrong when it happened. But she had loved him so, and they knew it was their last night together.

   A sob rose in Alayna's throat, and she covered her mouth. They would say ugly things if they saw her crying. And she didn't want them to see her weakness. They preyed on weakness. They fed off of it, and when they fed, it only made them hungrier. What a mangy pack of dogs they were.

    She knew it was bad but she despised them anyway. Mama wasn't there anymore to offer instruction and comfort- and Adrien was leaving.

    Her heart tore.

They led him up to the guillotine.

Her hands came down and she prayed that God would deliver them. Perhaps someone would rescue her darling. Perhaps he would not be forced to die a criminal's death.

   He searched for her, face fearful- he was afraid, but oh, so brave and handsome. She wished she had the heart he did. Though she did not. She was weak and the Revolutionaries preyed on people like her. She would die like everyone else.

   There was no place to go. No person to shield her. No fortress from the clutches of hate. No comfort from the miserable, deadly macabre.

   "J'taime," she croaked, her heart heavy. If he had to leave, she wanted him gone. She didn't want him to suffer any- how she loved him.

  It wasn't fair. It certainly wasn't just- she hated the Revolution so much, and the things it had done.

  Alayna went to the window.

Ellie played around her feet, tugging at the fringe on the bottom of the bedskirt.

She remembered the day perfectly. She remembered that night even more clearly. Somehow, she had walked away with everyone else. She didn't remember even thinking, or how she got out- but the next thing she knew, she was in a dark alley and she was shivering and she saw them there.

 "Nous prendrons bien soin de la France, Gustave. Et vous aussi."

Air caught in her throat. The Gustave?

"Que faites-vous?" the man whispered.

But they did not answer. The horror of the day had just been too much-

The plunge of the dagger was a sick ripping noise- she screamed before she could do anything else.

 Alayna swallowed.

And then he had died.

She glanced at the small wall clock, and saw that it was a quarter after four. Alex had told her to be ready to go to the theatre at five. She didn't have too long to ready herself- but she was certain she could do something with herself.

  The mirror was her enemy. Somedays, she hated the reflection. She hated seeing herself. If she stared too long, she began to see her mother. And if she saw her mother, she remembered her sin and felt guilty.

   Mama would have been so disappointed. But her disappointment was not as great as her wrath would have been. Papa might have understood why she had done it- but Mama would have labeled her as a harlot.

   And yet, their animosity had been veiled. Everyone had thought they were the best of friends, mother and daughter. But it hadn't been so.

    She turned away from the mirror, feeling sick, her fisted hands trembling. The last thing she wanted was to have to make polite conversation with someone she didn't know. She didn't wish to speak to a maid. She did not want to see Alex or anybody else.

   But he had already reserved seats in a box, and she knew better than to squander time or money.

So, Alayna dressed herself for the first time in four years. Her dress was made of chocolate brown velvet, a fine outfit for an evening in the theatre. From the hem to the knee were a series of intricate gold embroidered flowers and feathery designs, and along the very bottom, complicated zig-zags. It had a train, which she loved, and had a loop at the trimming so she could carry it through the mud. She loved the empire waist it had- she felt pretty in it.

   "Alayna, are you ready to go?" Alex asked from outside her door.

"Yes."

 She stepped out, and there he was. Dressed dashingly.

  "You look nice," he said.

"Thank you." She tapped her fan in the palm of her hand, breathing hard. She could hear him breathe too.

    "We should go."

"Yes. We should."

But they didn't move. He stared at her and she stared at him.

 Wouldn't it be pretty to tell Alex?

She swallowed her tears, and blinked the wet of her eyes away.

  "Alayna."

She looked at him through her lashes.

He inhaled. Her heart flopped.

 "Sterling begged me to let him meet you before anyone else." Alex grinned. "But he's too much of a kitten to ask if he could escort you to the Christmas party."

   "Sterling?" she asked, and her heart played with the idea of disappointment.

"Yes, he's a dear friend of mine."

"I thought you were going to escort me," she stated.

"Of course, I will be there. But he's a good man, often a pansy, but a good man." He laughed. "Come on, sweetheart, take a chance."

  "Ch-chance?"

He shook his head. "I think you of all people should know that it's best to do something once, even if it's going to hurt you in the end. Even if it doesn't last."

   "What do you know of me?" she snarled.

"Smooth your feathers," he told her. "I know you alright."

 She gave him that. She didn't want to argue; not that day.

 "Anyway, Alayna. Just go with him. He doesn't bite and he's a perfect gentleman."

She did not know who to trust. She did not want to go. She was afraid of Vachon and she was afraid of everyone she did not know. Anyone could kill her.

    "I'm not sure," she said softly.

 "He'll tell you how lovely your dress is, and how pretty your hair looks. And how lightly you glide on the dance floor."

   She smiled. "I haven't waltzed in years."

 "Perhaps I shall help refresh your memory sometime this week. Now come on, dear, let's get to the theatre."

She sighed, and followed behind him.