When Spring Died

Chapter Six

The dead flower sat on the piano, immobile and useless, the only witness to the music Ivette played on the ivory keys. A dark thunderous song resounded through the empty room. When Ivette played, it felt like she walked on a thin rope over a ravine, with clear skies above and a raging, brackish river below. Mistakes weren't just intolerable. They were unthinkable. The songs she played had to be unbroken, unmarred by dissonant chords and choppy phrasing.

She didn't hear the sound of quiet footsteps behind her, so lost to the world was she.

A pair of hands brushed against her shoulders. A kiss was pressed against the base of her neck where her hair swept up in a twisted knot. Ivette's fingers froze mid-arpeggio, striking a sour flat key.

"Don't stop, mon ange," Étienne whispered in her ear. His breath was as cold as his lips against her skin. "Go on."

She tried to remember where she'd left off, but her mind went hopelessly blank. Even if she'd remembered her place, there was no point continuing, for with Étienne's arrival, all her expression faded, the rhythm of the music lost. She turned in her seat to face him. She hadn't seen Étienne since her return.

Before she could say a word, he brought his hands down to cup her cheeks, bent low, and kissed her.

"I'm relieved to know you're safely returned to Marseille," he said, pulling away. "But I've been wondering why you would not see me sooner. Surely you haven't been that busy."

Despite the kiss, Ivette remained remarkably coherent. "I haven't."

Étienne's eyes narrowed a little, and when he bent down to kiss her again, Ivette realized he knew exactly why she hadn't seen him. Now he only stalled for time.
She tugged away from him and stood up. A few kisses from him would not make her forgive his actions so readily.

"Father Desjardins told me he wrote to you regarding the cathedral's state. Is that true?"

"You can't blame him."

"Is it true?"

Étienne sighed, knowing there was no talking his way out of it. "Yes, it's true." He hurried on when Ivette opened her mouth to say something else. "But you must understand, mon ange. I did it to help you. I alone have seen how weary you are. I feared that whatever would be amiss with the cathedral would only upset you. Father Desjardins shared those sentiments, and you shouldn't fault either of us for acting in your best interests."

"I can, actually," Ivette replied, taking the foxglove in hand. "Do you see this, Étienne? This is but an inkling of what Frantsiya's future will be. Do you know why?"

Her fiancé fidgeted and looked away from the blackened flower uncomfortably. "No," he said.

"Because despite everything you told me, your proclamations of Vesna blessing us no matter what I did, you were wrong. Vesna's blessing is gone, her favor upon us taken with it. I've seen with my own eyes the way her statue is crumbling at the cathedral. You see here now the beginnings of our end. This does not concern only me, but my entire kingdom--our kingdom. I believe I am justifiably upset with you. So much time has been lost where I knew nothing of Vesna's disappearance."

Étienne's next words lashed out with too much defense in his tone. "How was I to know that? Father Desjardins's letters merely spoke of an ill foreboding that he wanted to prevent you from taking upon your shoulders, not...not..." He broke off, pale and livid with shock.

"A goddess's absence? It's alarming, isn't it? Imagine how much closer I could be to finding a solution had either you or Father Desjardins disclosed this to me earlier."