Pressing his lips to the top of her head, he said, “Distract me, ma lisse. Tell me about your day.”
She said slowly, “Zari—-”
“The soul seer?”
“Yes.” She paused. “She had a vision about me.”
He stilled. “And?”
She remembered how Zari had gone pale, her voice becoming toneless as she whispered disjointedly of things that had happened or were yet to happen.
BLUE.
The color of the ocean, its crashing waves a distant sound—-
The color of silk, tainted with evil and tarnished dreams—-
The color of your dying, haunted eyes—-
Don’t fall.
Don’t fall.
Don’t fall.
The person close to you is not to be trusted.
“Milady?”
Straightening in his lap, Soleil pushed all thoughts away. “She warned me against death, but…” Her shoulders lifted in a shrug. “With the kind of life I lead, death is always a possibility.
Ilie was frowning. “You must not disregard her warning so lightly, ma lisse. Soul seers have the knack of sensing danger that have tremendously ill consequences if they were to take place.”
“I can’t worry about what I don’t know, milord. I can only take precautions, and I have been doing that, always. Too many people’s lives depend on me, and I am aware of this.”
The marquis gazed at her broodingly. “Promise me this, at least. You will always let me know when you leave for an operation.”
“If you’re going to stop me from working,” she began hotly.
“I wish to merely ascertain I am near enough to be of help if it is necessary that I intervene.” Forestalling her argument, he went on to say, “I solemnly vow as well that I will only intervene when your life is expressly threatened.”
They stared at each other, but it was Soleil who backed down first, her pragmatic side winning. “Fine.” Having the marquis on her side would mean having an additional ace up her sleeve, and what right-minded soldier would argue against that?
He smirked.
“Stop looking smug.”
The carriage had slowed down then, preventing the marquis from replying. When the coachman opened the door, Ilie jumped down and offered his hand to help her out. He waited until her fingers were in his hold before saying, “I forgot to tell you.”
“What is it?”
This is a party of otherworlders.
WHAT?
As expected, she immediately tried to spin around and climb back into the carriage, causing Ilie to chuckle even as he tightened his grip on her hand. Pulling her forcibly to him, he told her, You will be fine. Just do not let them know you are one of the Trois Belle Lames.
She said uneasily, It’s not like they would know anything about that—-
Oh, trust me, they know, he said drily. But don’t take my word for it.
You’re just trying to scare me.
You’ll see. With a smile, he pulled her closer to him as they walked forward. But for now, let us enjoy the evening. A pair of footmen swiftly threw the ivory-coated double doors open to let them pass, and as they descended the sweeping staircase leading to the ballroom, she saw everyone turn towards them.
Her knees under her skirt threatened to give out, but the marquis, as if sensing the sudden drop in her composure, tightened his hold on her.
You are with me, ma lisse. Do not forget that. I pity anyone who tries to harm one strand on your lovely head.
She was about to reply when she noticed something strangely familiar. Glancing up, she saw an orchestra playing from the balcony, mostly mermen – it was easy to recognize them by their glistening skins.
And they were playing her song, she realized. La Vie En Rose, the How I Met Your Mother version.
Her head snapped towards Ilie.
This is supposed to calm you, yes?
It’s also supposed to be what I’m listening to when I’m about to fight.
As the marquis drew her to the dance floor, he murmured words that Soleil would never have even thought someone like him would care to know.
Dance, when you’re broken open.
Dance, if you’ve torn the bandage off.
Dance in the middle of the fighting.
Dance in your blood.
Dance when you’re perfectly free.
When Ilie glanced down at his heartkeeper, he almost, almost smiled. She was looking at him with stars in her eyes, something that he hadn’t been able to accomplish despite being a marquis with incomparable wealth or a half-demon whose power few beings on earth would ever match.
Fleur was right, he thought. His beautiful, brave Soleil was a hopeless romantic.
And…he liked it that way.
Even if it meant having to be endlessly ribbed by the duke and the rest of the Galere, even if it meant having to memorize all the fucking poems in the world—-
He would do it, if in exchange he would be able to keep this woman looking at him the way she was looking at him now…for eternity.
Chapter Seven
After the dance, the marquis began introducing her to the otherworlders, and with every introduction, his words became more and more outrageous.