Thirty-Six ◑ The Farewell

“Yes,” Lucille said in a strangled voice. “Please send him up. Thanks.”

“Okay,” Robert replied, then hung up.

Right. So what was she supposed to do now? What was Dimitri even doing here? Why would he suddenly act like a normal human being when he could just float his way up to their suite and surprise her in her bedroom like a proper god?

So many questions, so little time.

Lucille got to work the very second she put down the phone. Her head was spinning with nerves. A part of her wanted to go to the bathroom to freshen up and perhaps look irresistible, but another part of her wanted to wake Agnes up so they could escape through the window.

During her dilemma, Agnes thankfully slept through. In the end, Lucille compromised by opening the windows in the living room and running a brush through her hair.

Then, she positioned herself in front of the elevator like a dog expecting its owner.

Good Lord, her hands were trembling. Snippets of her infamous Arkham Manor flashback were playing in her head. That had been the last time she’d seen Dimitri too. She didn’t want to skirt around the topic today, though. This might just be the perfect time to—

The elevator doors slid open with its usual bell ring, and out came Dimitri, wearing a rain spattered black coat with his usual all-black garments underneath.

Lucille held her breath. She wanted to bolt, but she forced herself to reach over him just as he opened his mouth. “Don’t talk,” she whispered. “Let’s talk in the balcony. I don’t want to disturb Agnes.”

Dimitri’s gaze swept over to Agnes’s curled up form and nodded briefly.

She took the lead and headed to the kitchen, where the entrance to the balcony was. His footsteps were unusually light, which meant that he’d taken her request seriously, but she could still hear them amplified in her head. Her entire arm was now shaking, and she had to move really close to the balcony door just to hide the fact that she was a wreck.

It didn’t get any better when they got outside. It was another gloomy day, and the air was terribly cold. The clouds were thick and gray, scattering thin raindrops across the maze of buildings.

The trumpet creepers that she and Agnes had coiled up over the wooden braces overhead were swaying in the breeze, touching the top of Dimitri’s wavy hair and pulling some of the locks out of place. An urge to fix it struck her, so she shoved her hands in her pockets.

But that didn’t change the fact that she had no idea what to say.

Fortunately, Dimitri was functioning properly. With no formalities whatsoever, he asked, “Have you tried opening the vault in your bedroom?”

“Yeah, but I. . . .” Lucille trailed off. “Do you know why I can’t open it?”

“You can’t open it because Keiran changed the code,” he replied simply. When her eyes flashed, he continued, “He’s under the impression that someone would try to steal from. He says you should've locked it with your magic, but you never listen. Now hold out your arm and I will give you the code.”

She obeyed. Dimitri took her wrist and ran her palm across her forearm, pausing with a frown at her bracelet. He continued, nonetheless, and a new combination of numbers and letters appeared on her skin like a fresh tattoo. It didn't hurt, but it wasn't exactly comfortable either.

She didn't know what caused the heat: was it his palm or the branding?

Either way, she just asked, “Why would anyone want to steal from it?”

“The candle is your life and you've made thousands of enemies.” His tone was flat, tight. “Now, if you’ll excuse me—"

“Wait.” She decided to take her chance. While he was still here. While she was still here. “I’ve been wanting to talk to you.”

“Alright.” Dimitri’s eyes were a cold shade of brown in the scattered light of the cloudy morning. “Then talk.”

Lucille leaned against the railing, running a finger along an Astilbe bloom and playing for time. “I’ve been having visions. Lots of them. Usually they appear when I’m asleep, but back at the ball, I had one. It was vivid.” She paused, taking a deep breath. “I was wondering if you could tell me a few things—”

“You know I can’t do that,” Dimitri interrupted. “I can’t tell you about your past, and it's quite aggravating that you keep asking for it.”

“My candle is melting anyway,” she pointed out, drowning the sudden flair of her temper. “It’s inevitable. I’ll remember one way or another.”

“Then just wait for it.” He sounded as disinterested as ever. “Why hasten it? Like you said, you’ll remember anyway. Don’t put me in a compromising position for something you will get soon. Keiran is already mad at me for always showing up, so please don't add to it.”

She should be glad that he was in his businesslike mood, but she wasn’t. She didn’t like how detached he was being. She didn’t like the tired look in his eyes, especially when he was making it seem like he was tired of her. It stabbed at her pride, grated her heart.

Before she knew it, her defenses were already rising to attention.

“It’s my past,” she said through gritted teeth. “I have the right to know.”

Dimitri exhaled sharply. “We keep going around this particular circle. I know it’s your past, and you deserve to know, but it’s not going to come from me or my brother. We’re not keeping it a secret because we want to oppress you like you think, but we’re doing it to protect you—”

“From who?” Lucille demanded. “From you?”

He shook his head. “Lucille, just stop this—”

“No!” Her voice rang out in the open. She couldn’t take this anymore. She advanced towards him, her chest was heaving up and down. “I won’t stop, not when you’re the one I see in these flashbacks. Not when you’re the one I think I have married, the one who betrayed me in the end.”

Dimitri blanched. He opened his mouth, but no word came out. For some reason, his hesitation was more painful to watch than an actual confession.

To Lucille’s horror, tears began to flow down her cheeks. She wiped at them aggressively.

“Are you that man?” she asked, pleaded for the answer. “Are you my husband? Because I'm confused. You're here and you're great but when I see you in those memories . . . it just hurts.”

“I don't know what you're talking about,” he said, his voice barely audible.

“Tell me,” she insisted, “Is that the reason why you're always here? Is that the reason why you're apologizing to me? What happened to me? To us?”

The questions hovered above them, lower than the vines, pressing against their heads like a dead weight. Dimitri looked away from her, angling his face so that his expression was hidden. But even so, she could tell that he was hardly showing any emotion.

She despised that, hated it with a burning conviction. She expected him to rage and defend himself, perhaps even hoped that he'd do exactly that.

Because that would mean he was just a god, right? That would mean he wasn't the man she'd loved thousands of years ago. That would mean he wasn't the man who'd caused her to spiral and do unspeakable things for love.

But he was quiet. He was relenting.

And it broke her heart.

“I want to leave it in the past where it belongs, but it haunts me every time I open my eyes in the morning,” Lucille continued bitterly. “It hurts so much and it’s so terrible that sometimes I can’t even get up. I just want this to be over. I don’t like what you and Keiran turned me into. It took a long time for me to realize that, but I just want to move on, to a life I created for myself, with the man who genuinely cares about me.”

Dimitri lifted his gaze, but he wasn’t really looking at her. Not quite. It was as though he was seeing through her. It was as though he was seeing something else, maybe even someone else. It was as though none of them were truly in there, just like in her visions, where it felt like they were taking the place of two different people.

For a moment she thought he'd kiss her. Perhaps she even hoped he would, although it would complicate everything more. She looked up at him, drawing her breath in, waiting. Anticipating.

But he looked away.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I really am. I want to tell you, but I just . . . can’t. I’ve tried, though. I really have tried.”

Lucille wrapped her arms around herself, hanging her head as more tears leaked out of her eyes. The pain in her heart was nearly physical now.

"If freedom is what you want, I will do my best to give it to you," Dimitri continued. "I’ll tell Keiran to let you go, and after that I’ll do the same too.”