Adelaide

Chapter XXIII

Adelaide DuPont

'You must be more in love with Paris than with me,' James deduced one evening while we rested against each other, watching the Eiffel Tower glimmering in the distance from our secluded stretch of rooftop. Even then, I was far from oblivious to the gleam of spite flaring within his words. I knew his undertones and insinuations too well to miss it. 'Don't be ridiculous, James. The sight is much better with you beside me.' He kissed my temple at that, clearly pleased.

I only manage a few restless hours of sleep, despite the long day of traveling. Just as I'm dozing off for the third time, padded footsteps and the creaking of wooden floorboards jolt me awake once again. I could have dreamed the sound; either way, I don't trust this place. With all its grandeur, who knows what kinds of people or things lurk in the dark corners. This vacation house is no less expensive than my parents' multiple residences across Europe. I personally admire its openness, as my family's abodes overflow with valuable artifacts that surely belong in some museum or library.

Quietly to avoid waking the other girls sleeping elsewhere on the second floor, I slip on shoes and step out to the corridor in my nighttime clothing in search of the noisemaker. A draft whispers down the passage, and I follow the revitalizing scent of fresh air to a large paned window that opens out to a narrow balcony. Only after my eyes adjust to the uncanny lighting do I notice the dark figure standing alone outside. I'd recognize that silhouette anywhere: Emerald.

"Can't sleep either?"

"I guess not," he responds, but he doesn't turn to face me and his voice whisks away on a cool western breeze.

I choose to interpret his quietness as an indirect welcome to lean my forearms against the railing and stare across the starry horizon by his side. Even when I step forward, he doesn't glance over or greet me with one of his characteristically affectionate smiles. Something much heavier haunts his countenance in this dim city, and the nighttime darkens his amber eyes into a comely soil-brown as he watches lights reflect and dance across the surface of the river. He balances a smoldering gauloises between two fingers, while the other three trace absentmindedly over the petite lilies engraved across the lid of his pocket watch, which rests haphazardly on the balcony railing, as if from the familiar floral pattern he draws something like comfort.

The cigarette surprises me, and I'm unsure how to react to this habit. Of course, each of the four was someone before Soventi, and wordlessly they shrouded these identities within themselves at the school, sheltering their undiluted character from the peculiar repetition coursing through its walls. A return to the person he needed to be in order to cope with the real world is only natural. I glance over to him carefully, studying the pearlescent way his dark eyes reflect the city lights and the moon.

"It feels so strange to be here without my parents," he remarks abruptly, breaking the silence, "Nothing distracts me from their absence under this sky; it's consuming — even still, after two years have passed and the world continues to spin as it should."

"My parents were often away for business or parties. I was lonely as a little girl, but I at least had the reassurance that they would return," I offer, resting a careful hand over his free one and letting my gaze trail up to his curly sable hair, "Coming back here — I can't even imagine how you're feeling. You've preserved memories within this place, the same as your pocket watch."

My entire life is so different from one year ago, but Emerald is right: nothing changed in Paris. Everything here remains the same, as if I never even left. Familiar skyscrapers and buildings illuminate the sky just as before. In response to my mention of his watch, Emerald places his cigarette between his teeth to slip the lovely engraved heirloom back into his pocket without disturbing my touch. His skin always feels more warm than James' but less fiery than Julian's, in a comforting sort of way.