When Spring Died

Chapter Ten

No sooner had she reached his side than did Étienne snag her by the wrist and tug her behind one of the immense marble pillars. The seclusion was welcome. Ivette could already sense the makings of another painful fight. After nearly a week of keeping her distance from him, of course their first encounter would be one of disdain, picking up on the same sour note they'd left off on.

"Well?" Étienne said once they came to a stop.

"Well, what?" Ivette retorted cooly, breaking free from his ironclad grip.

"Haven't you anything to say to me?"

She lifted her chin. "I could ask you the same. Don't I deserve an answer too?"

He crossed his arms. He wore a deep green tailcoat with silver accents that drew out the flecks of sage in his eyes. But Ivette couldn't focus on how he looked. She was too annoyed, too frustrated.

"Who was that?" He jerked his chin in the direction of the dance floor, where spinning couples still reveled in the spiraling melodies from the orchestra. If she hadn't known any better, Ivette could've sworn the look that crossed his face was one of pure jealousy. She did a double take. Étienne, jealous? Nothing could have suited him poorer.

"I don't know what you're talking about."

He scoffed. "That's a pathetic answer. Who was he?"

"Étienne, please, not here. There are too many people," she muttered.

"Are there? That didn't seem to concern you when were dancing, so--"

Her head snapped up. "What right have you to belittle me for who I dance with?"

"I have every right! You couldn't wait for me?"

"I did, for as long as I possibly could, but you never showed." She moved closer to him. "I needed you tonight more than ever, and you weren't there. If I can't rely on you, then who else do I have?"

"That devil in the black mask seemed to suit you just fine," Étienne snapped, paling considerably.

His malice staggered Ivette. That he blamed her above all else hurt her far more than his unwillingness to take fault in the slightest. It stung worse because his irritation went so much deeper than just seeing her dance tonight. It was one of a hundred grievances, she supposed, but it was one that finally tipped the scale against her.

"I have done nothing to deserve such scorn from you," Ivette retorted, frosty with ignominy.

"And conversely do I deserve how much you've removed yourself from me? Just because you are queen and have certain liberties does not give you the right, no, the entitlement to abuse how I feel, especially not in the manner you have since your return from the cathedral."

So that was it.

She wondered then if he believed it her intention to make him jealous and flaunt her choices in his face as mercilessly as she was able. It couldn't have been the furthest thing from her mind. Not once in her life had she even harbored the notion.

"You weren't there for the first waltz," she said quietly. "And that 'devil in the black mask,' as you say, was."

"The first waltz?" He laughed without smiling afterward, embittered beyond compare. "In Vesna's name, Ivette, if that's all you can think of then I'll dance with you now and have done with it! The gods only know how much neither of us wants to be in the other's company!!"

Hot tears pricked at her eyes, and she wished her corset didn't squeeze the air from her lungs the way it did. If only he knew how much she wanted to always be with him, how empty and afraid she felt when he wasn't by her side. Didn't he feel the same way? Wasn't that love?