Page 25 of Vanish

CHAPTER12

Lucien stood awkwardly in his bedroom doorway, seeming unable to summon enough courage to cross the threshold. We’d begun our second courtship with an argument about where he should sleep—he insisted on returning to the library settee where he’d passed the night before, whereas I encouraged him to spend the night in his room since he so desperately needed sound rest.

His exhaustion had deepened as the day progressed, magnified by the stress from today’s meeting as well as his restless sleep brought by his uncomfortable accommodations the night before. Yet my victory at his eventual reluctant surrender was short-lived now that he stood paralyzed at the door.

He stared helplessly into the room faintly illuminated by the single candle left by the servant who had prepared his bed before he glanced at me with the look of a lost child. “I don’t think I can do it after all. I’m not so dishonorable as to invite an unmarried maiden into my room, especially so early in our courtship.”

I frowned, puzzled at why he would characterize this as “early” considering we’d been engaged for years and in love for quite some time now, but responded to his concerns. “Technically you didn’t invite me—I followed you.”

The impropriety had been necessary. Our connection already felt fragile; I was afraid too much time spent apart would sever it completely, leaving me at the curse’s mercy. I grazed his arm, and though I doubt he felt it, the movement was enough to draw his wide-eyed panic.

“Please, Lucien. I’m afraid to be alone.”

With a tentative nod and steadying breath he inched into the room. His destination wasn’t his grand four-poster but the wardrobe, where he pulled out not his bedclothes but a stack of blankets and a pillow, which he used to set up a makeshift bed a conscientious distance from his own.

“There’s no need to go to the trouble; I can’t sleep in this state.” But he ignored my hasty insistences and added an extra blanket.

“It’s not any trouble at all, Lisette.”

The sentiment stirred my heart, as did hearing my name on his lips. As a woman of title I was rarely referred to by my given name, and even Father avoided addressing me directly as much as possible. I mulled over his words, marveling. I always had the sense I was nothingbuttrouble, that my very existence was an inconvenience to everyone around me. “It’s not?”

Crimson stained his cheeks as he determinedly averted his gaze. Bashfulness wasn’t an emotion I would have expected from the confident prince, but the endearing, relatable trait created another thread that bound us together.

“But I don’t need to sleep.”

Even with this argument his preparations didn’t falter. “I won’t be able to sleep comfortably if you have no place to rest during the night.” He gave the pillow one last fluff before settling across the blankets he’d just arranged.

My brow furrowed. “Isn’t that bed mine?”

He finally glanced up, his look aghast. “What honorable gentleman forces his fiancée to spend the night on thefloor?”

“But—” My protests were in vain. I watched helplessly as he slipped fully dressed beneath the blankets laid across the floor and propped himself on his elbow with an expectant look. I tentatively obeyed his silent plea and settled on the edge of his four-poster as best I could, but rather than being enfolded by the duvet’s soft creases, I floated several inches above the mattress.

I frowned. “I’m not even touching the bed, meaning the floor wouldn’t be uncomfortable for me.”

Such logic did little to persuade him. He searched my uncooperative expression before sighing. “Regardless, it’s the gesture that means something. You’re worth serving, Lisette.” Without another word he lay down with his back facing me, effectively ending our conversation. Within moments the sounds of his heavy breathing filled the darkness.

Night settled around us. I measured the passing time with each of his measured breaths, my mind alternating between reviewing what we’d learned about the curse, worrying about the problem with Thorndale, and savoring the memories of Lucien’s sweet words as he insisted I had worth, a concept I couldn’t remember anyone telling me before. Aira had shown me true care, but the reigning monarchs’ cruelty—along with the quiet distance maintained by my older brother who scarcely seemed to notice my existence—had stripped away any confidence I might have otherwise had.

After an hour had drifted by I sensed a shift in the darkness, similar to the sensation I’d experienced yesterday in the library. The veil separating me from the invisible force seemed thinner beneath the cloak of night when the shadows grew more pronounced than during the day, allowing hidden things to be brought to light.

The presence was gradually growing stronger. Curious and uneasy, I took in the room, but other than Lucien’s sleeping presence I appeared entirely alone. Yet sounds extended beyond my sight, wisps of wind that gradually shifted into whispers against my consciousness, a symphony of muted voices. I searched through each note filling the night until the familiar one I thought I’d noticed the night before rose above the rest to form words—garbled at first, save for my name.

“Lisette…”

I didn’t immediately recognize that the muffled voice belonged to my vanished handmaiden; even once I did, I wondered if it was nothing more than another unfulfilled longing to find some semblance in the chaos around me.

I took in the dark room once more. Though I still didn’t see anyone I could sense someone nearby, a heaviness upon the air. The curtains fluttered in a nonexistent breeze, as if someone had brushed past them…even though I couldn’t see any kind of figure.

“Can you hear me, Lisette?”

The voice steadily grew louder, sounding as if it drifted—not from the other side of a closed door, but from within the room. The stronger it became, the more I could feel the tingling sensation of the presence accompanying it, creeping closer until it paused directly beside me.

A soft breeze caressed my ear, the air displaced as if someone leaned in; this time the whisper cradling my name was unmistakably that of my handmaiden.

I tilted my body towards where I thought I sensed her. “Aira?”

Her name reached across the divide created by the lack of the sight separating us. Slowly, like ripples in a previously still pond, she came into focus…but only for a flickering moment before disappearing again. I lurched forward.

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