"Raoul, where's Ki?" Margeret Catherine Giry de Chagney whispered into the darkness of the autumn night.
He groaned. The Vicomte was not a night person; he hated to have his rest disturbed. It was rare that he got a full night's sleep, especially with their five-month-old son sleeping in their bedroom. "In his cradle, where else would he be, Meg?"
"I don't know. He should've been awake long ago." Meg had only been Countess de Chagney for five months, and often forgot about her husband's issues with sleep. "I'd better check on him." She slid out of bed, her dressing gown of gauzy silk barely covering her legs. Raoul could hear her tiptoe over to the cradle, heard her soft cry of, "Oh, dear God!"
"Meg?" he was alert now. He hurriedly lit a candle and stumbled out of bed. The small stub illuminated the empty cradle.
"Where's my baby?" Meg screamed, turning wide eyes on her husband. "Raoul, where's Ki?" Her golden hair was disheveled, her limbs quaking with both cold and maternal fear. "Where's my baby?"
"Shh, the whole opera house will here you."
"I don't care! Where's my baby, where's Ki?"
"Hush, dear, your mother probably has him."
"No, she's away. KI!" she screamed maniacally. Raoul stumbled after her, calling her name, willing her to come back...