Christine clung to Erik's sleeve as they made their way through the palace, heading deeper and deeper into the Queen's wing. Christine was afraid. Erik had explained that the Queen was both unpredictable and intensely merciless; the only pattern to her behavior was that she was always searching for new ways to humiliate and torture those that displeased her.
What tortures were there in store for Christine? Erik glanced down at the girl who walked by his side, and thought of the dead courtesan from only hours before.
Never again!
His adoration of Christine was a weakness; the girl would be so easy for the Queen to exploit that she might as well have a target painted over her chest. Erik didn't think that the Queen would kill Christine so soon- from her twisted perspective, wouldn't it be better to use the girl to draw out his torture? Allow enough time for him to become more attached? In a way, Erik hoped so. If he had more time, he would be able to come up with a plan of escape.
Christine was silent as they swept through the corridors- no more comments on the beautifully detailed murals, and Erik was thankful. Earlier he had worried that she might find his scene- he would not have been able to make her understand the painting.
Together they reached the entrance to the grand hall. Erik paused before the doors and turned Christine to face him. "Christine, you must listen to me. Appearances here are paramount, do you understand? If you do not behave as a slave, submissive and timid, they will see through this ruse. When we enter, keep your eyes on the floor and do not look up or speak unless I address you,"
Christine nodded, and folded her hands before her. She bowed her head, nearly touching her chin to her chest. Erik nodded and touched her shoulder in a gesture of reassurance. "Very good,"
This is what they needed to do to survive. Erik started to open the door and thought better of it. He turned to her again, "Christine… if the Queen orders me to…hurt you, in any way, or touch you, I will not be able to refuse her. I've refused her many times before, but I don't know what she will do to you if I refuse this time. I don't want to hurt you, but the woman has a sick mind. If she commands that I should touch you or…take you, I will have to obey, if only so that you and I can escape later on with our bodies still intact…I'm so sorry for all of this…can you understand?"
Her entire frame was trembling, but Christine made an attempt at a brave smile. He set his hand at the small of her back and guided her inside the Queen's hall. Erik's sharp eyes quickly assessed the factors waiting for them.
The only occupants were Trapoi, Kuma, Tumal and five of his fellow eunuch harem guards. The Queen sat, languishing on her throne; her usual expression of contempt was lit with curiosity once she observed Christine walking in slowly behind Erik.
If anything happened, Erik knew that his lasso wouldn't be able to catch the nine occupants at once. He wished for this to be a quick exchange- he would thank the Queen for her "generosity" in providing him with Christine, he would take a few of her taunts and insults, but he wanted nothing more. God, if she asked him to demonstrate what he and Christine had done the night before…
Well, Erik had other weapons than his lasso.
The two of them moved before the Queen's golden throne. Christine kept her eyes on the floor, but Erik sensed that she was just as worried as he- the Queen was, after all, the woman who had ordered Christine's capture and sentence of sexual slavery to Erik. The Queen would carry no sympathy or mercy for Christine's tears or longings for her home.
He wanted to reach to her and take hold her hand but he dared not touch her before the Queen.
Erik's eyes remained trained on his mistress. She was looking at Christine; her eyes were hard, intense. She raised a dark hand to her veiled mouth; the snake was studying the foreign girl with such penetration that Erik feared she would see right through their ploy
The hating eyes shifted to his own.
"It seems you've tamed this little island girl, Erik." Her voice had only been as icy once before, years ago when she'd told him of his sentence as her personal slave.
He stood straighter, "She was most satisfactory, my Queen. I thank you for your generosity, my reward was everything that you promised."
"It pleases me to hear that, Erik. Trapoi and Kuma have been most enlightening about how much value you put into the girl. Tell me, do you know much of her life before she was brought to Tejar?" The Queen asked.
"She has told me some things, mistress."
The Queen settled further into her throne. "Yes, she told you of the little house by the sea, did she not? And of her family, such as it is. Some distant ancestors in Sweden, none of whom even know of the girl's existence. No siblings, her mother died shortly after giving birth, her father is dead as well…but there is one who misses her. I suppose that she's told you nothing of her fiancé?"
Erik staggered back a step as if he'd been speared through the chest. He turned to look at Christine; he wished to demand answers from her and had expected to see her own shocked reaction, but her posture remained submissive. No, she hadn't understood the exchange. All she could hear were foreign words that meant nothing to her ears.
He turned back to the Queen. She wore a triumphant smile. "Yes, Erik. Her fiancé. She has not mentioned him, I see. Well, allow me. He is tall, perhaps as tall as you. Wealthy, I daresay that he resides on that pathetic little sandbar only to remain with her. And they do remain together- I've had my scouts keep watch over her for weeks; they made several reports where her young man has stayed overnight. He is handsome, Erik! You did not think that he would be old, or ugly or poor, did you? No! The man is a young golden god- I was tempted to capture him as well and use him for my own enjoyment."
Erik said nothing; he could only feel jealousy and disbelief spread through his mind. It could all be a lie- the Queen's next attempt to taunt and manipulate his emotions. Christine had not mentioned…but perhaps there was a reason that she had not…
He didn't want to think of it, but Christine might not be the innocent he'd immediately thought her to be. Perhaps she'd only given him her false trust in the hopes that he would deliver her back into this young man's arms!
"The sheet you bled upon was a clever ploy, my pet corpse, but useless. She is no virgin! I see that you knew nothing of her man, Erik. The two of you have much to discuss on the topic of Raoul de Chagny,"
At the mention of his name, even in a foreign tongue, Christine forgot her submissive pose and raised her head. Before Erik could stop her, Christine had spoken. "Raoul? What have you done with him? Is he here?"
The Queen ordered nothing to her guards- usually when a slave spoke out of turn, there would be immediate reprimand, either a lashing or a strike across their impudent mouth. She ordered nothing; the Queen only smiled and dismissed them from her hall.
Christine didn't understand what had happened in the hall. The Queen was everything Erik had warned her of; beneath her truly stunning surface, Christine sensed her controlled, vicious nature. How could a woman who had everything be so cruel?
The Queen had been dressed in fine silk robes, the color so stunningly emerald that she must have been clad in true jewels. A matching veil cloaked her face, only revealing her eyes. The two black orbs had gazed upon Christine, and she had felt exposed; even more so than when she met the eyes of Erik. The Queen had stared at her for several long moments before looking over to the man meant to be her master.
She hadn't understood a word of what they'd said to each other…until the Queen had mentioned a very familiar name: Raoul de Chagny.
Christine knew that it was a fatal mistake the moment she'd opened her mouth, but she hadn't been able to stop herself. The words had burst forth in reflex. She hadn't known what horrible thing to expect; she had heard so many awful reports of the Arabian people, from their ridiculous customs to the way they treat their women. Christine now knew the truth to those rumors as completely true. She had been kidnapped, stolen like an object from her home and given to a stranger to be used as a slave for his pleasure.
Christine loathed Tejar with all her heart. She loathed the Queen and the men in this place, so cut off from the rest of the world with their backwards culture. When she heard Raoul's name, she hadn't been able to control her reaction. If Raoul was here, she would have demanded to see him. She would have spoken with him, touched him, and then died inside, for, if Raoul had been captured, then there would have been no one to realize that they were gone. Once Meg and her mother realized that they had disappeared, the trail would be days cold and all hope would vanish.
But…there was still Erik.
Christine didn't know how to feel about him yet. He claimed that he wouldn't hurt her, and so far he had proven himself. He hadn't laid a hand on her in anger or carnal demand. Heat rose to her face as they walked down the corridor from the hall. He hadn't spoken a word since the Queen's dismissal.
Erik hadn't touched her; he had cut his own hand to protect her. And, he spoke French. She hadn't expected to find anyone who she would be able to communicate with, and here Erik was without even a trace of foreign accent. He had been a great comfort in the few hours they had known each other. He'd explained things to her, using no flowery words- he told her the reason that she'd been brought to Tejar, but in the same breath he'd promised no harm would befall her, so long as she wore his ring.
The ring.
Christine glanced down at her hand. The gold band had not moved from her fourth finger since Erik had given it to her that morning. She had thought the ring only as a symbol of his possession, a sort of visual warning against any man that might approach her. As time went on, and she spent more time with Erik, Christine began to realize that to him it meant much more.
Before giving her the ring, he'd told her that if she wore it, she would be "wed as his wife". She had assumed a metaphor. Did Erik now consider her to be a true wife? Would he expect her to be a wife in the full sense of the word? Lay with him, attend to his sexual whims?
Christine had no idea, but her thoughts wouldn't allow her to stop questioning. Why had Erik refused to take her right from the start? She didn't want to dwell on her own helplessness, but Erik was a man, in a place where women were little more than objects to be bought and disposed of whenever the man wished. It would have been easy for him to just take her body, yet he hadn't.
Why?
He could have done anything he wanted to her, and he'd done nothing but treat her as a guest rather than as the prisoner she was. And the way he'd behaved when he'd given her the ring!
"You wear my ring, my wife…"He'd seemed so moved that she would accept it from him; she'd heard the emotion in his voice. A joy so raw that it had brought tears to his eyes!
He'd mentioned that he hadn't dreamed a woman would ever wear his ring- had he never expected to marry? Her thoughts turned to the logical conclusion: his mask. At first, she had thought he wore it to protect his identity from her, but then, they were in a foreign country, so why would he bother to hide? She was certain they had never met before.
Christine decided that she would still refrain from questioning him about the mask- no matter what he'd promised her, they were still in a dangerous place, where Christine had nothing. If she lost Erik's protection, she could be handed off to the next man, or killed. She dared not risk losing him.
The mask was strange, and Erik was stranger still, but in the end it was of no consequence. She followed him up several staircases back to his room and waited silently as he unlocked the secret door. It wasn't until he'd spoken that Christine realized she'd kept her submissive slave posture for the entire walk back to his rooms in the Tower.
He turned to her, his voice so cold that it sent chills down her spine. "Drop the act, you never fooled anyone,"
He opened the door and she hurriedly stepped into his room, Erik following close behind. Christine went farther into the space, so unnerved by Erik's anger that she braced herself for a physical attack. "It seems you understood a few words from the Queen. Raoul de Chagny. Who is he?!" Erik demanded. His words were clipped and brutal, forcing her full honesty in answer.
"He- he is a friend from home, when she said his name I was afraid that he had been forced here too," Christine said. She brought her hands to her chest, suddenly conscious of just how little her top covered. She hated how exposed Erik was making her feel, how vulnerable!
The tiger paced hisroom, resentful anger coloring his posture and words. He was jealous and hating every second of it. "Oh, yes, you're trapped here. It must be unbearable to be with me, you wish for your golden boy to come save you. Raoul de Chagny! How handsome he must be, how noble! Tell me, my bride, what kind of "friend" is he to you?"
"What the hell are you talking about?" Christine demanded, her own tempter was beginning to rise.
Erik was advancing on her, his fists clenched at his sides. She raised her arms in front of her, defensively. It was pathetic; Christine didn't know what she could do if he decided that he wanted to hurt her, she was strong, but Erik was a fully-grown man, what could she possibly do to him?
He moved directly before her and took hold of her upraised wrists. His grip was firm, tight. Christine glanced down at his hands. The skin was pale and scarred; his fingers were very long and thin. Erik bent to bring his masked face level to her.
The amber eyes glowed angrily at her. "You know what I want to know, it's what I have every right to know. Raoul de Chagny, what was he to you, Christine? Was he merely… a friend, or had you taken him as your lover?"
His voice caressed the last word with mad, seductive hatred. Erik tightened his grip on her wrists, enough that she wanted to cry out. "Tell me," he breathed against her ear. "Your husband only wishes to know the truth- I gave you my promise that I would not hurt you, Christine. Tell me…"
Christine didn't know what to do- the gentle Erik had gone, and so had the enraged man of moments before. In his place was a strange, ethereal voice. The coaxing words entered her mind, slipping past the barriers of her psyche. He was somehow dismantling her from within, Christine knew it, but the amber eyes held her, and she was unable to refuse answers to his question.
Erik held her in his thrall with both his eyes and voice- he could have done anything to her, had her do anything for him, but he only wished to know if her heart belonged to another man…
"Tell me now, Christine, was Raoul de Chagny your lover…?"
Erik released her wrists and began to stroke up and down the length of her bare arms. Her skin was so warm and soft under his hands. He brought his body closer to hers, a mockery of intimacy between lovers. Erik held her in a powerful trance, and didn't intend to release her until he knew. The trance only grew stronger as the moments went by, and Christine was too drained to craft any more lies.
"Yes," she breathed against him.
Christine thought she heard a low, wounded moan, but it seemed so far away…the amber eyes became bright with tears, but his gaze did not waver. Erik kept his hold over her mind with an iron fist.
"When?"
This was no longer about his jealousy- Erik would ask her, because he no longer trusted what she told him. Christine had never mentioned a man that would miss her on the island! She hadn't breathed a word of a husband, a fiancé or any close friend!
"Almost one year ago, on my 20th birthday," Christine said. Her own eyes had gone glassy; her expression was blank as she answered him. The voice with which she answered was flat, and spoke only truth.
Christine's past tore him apart, but Erik had to know if her heart still beat within Raoul's chest. He'd had a small hope that she could begin to trust him, and in time come to love him- he would have been forever grateful, even if her affection was only a mild itch in her heart, and not the burning passion that he now held within his own.
His voice was a whisper against her ear. "Was it only that one time?"
"Yes," was her whispered reply.
The girl had surprises at every turn. "Why only once?"
"We realized the mistake we had made, and never made love again,"
"Made love…you loved him, this Raoul?" Erik asked. He prayed for her indifference to Raoul, even hatred. If she still loved him, Erik would have no choice but to keep his promise and bring her home- bring her back to this Raoul, and be forced to watch the two of them kiss upon reuniting. The thought twisted his heart.
"We thought we were in love, we were wrong."
There was a long pause before his next question. "Christine, how do you feel about your Raoul now?"
"I do love him, he is one of my closest friends."
"And…how do you feel about Erik?"
"Erik is strange but has been so kind. I think I can trust him, I need him to bring me home."
So, that's all I am to her- a ticket back home. Could I ever be anything else to her? It's only been a day, just a mere few hours! Yes, she doesn't love this Raoul, she only wants to return home- and I will go with her, I will bring her back home and we can build a life together! A life of art and music, there is so much I could show her, so much to teach her. I can give her everything, while she can only give me my one greatest wish…
Erik broke eye contact with Christine and stepped away from her. She remained entranced for a few moments, but Erik watched as she blinked rapidly and shook her head to sweep away the confusion.
The emeralds were clear again, and she looked at him. "What just happened?" she asked as she blinked rapidly.
Erik smirked to himself behind the mask. He had learned early on that his voice was a great manipulative tool; he'd used it to draw animals near when he was younger and wanted a friend. It was how he'd befriended the fox that he'd once kept as a pet. When combined with his eyes, he was on a level with master hypnotists. The Queen often delighted at forcing him to hypnotize enemies into killing themselves before the court. For her, it meant endless entertainment, while Erik's self-loathing only grew.
Erik had stroked Christine's arms only because he knew that she would not have allowed it otherwise. He shouldn't have done that, he knew it was wrong to take advantage of her while she had been under his spell, but he had needed a way to soothe the both of them.
He shrugged. "I'm sorry, Christine. I believe that the heat is getting to you; perhaps you should lie down for a little while. You go rest on the divan, I'll bring you a glass of water," Erik took her hand and directed her towards the velvet fainting couch that rested against the far wall of his room, beside the desk.
He poured a glass for her and glanced at the small table that was beside the bedroom door. There was a parcel resting atop its glass surface. Erik set the crystal pitcher aside and went to find what was inside. Every so often, when one of his suits would wear out, another would be sent to him. This parcel was smaller than those that held his clothes.
Erik only glanced inside at the white material within and decided that the contents had not been intended for him at all. Every one of the servants knew that he was never to wear any color other than only the boldest of blacks. It had been an order from the Queen herself- she had created such a stunning character out of Erik to ward off her enemies that certain measures were taken to keep up the pretense.
"There is a fresh garment here for you," he held it out for her. "You can change in the closet,"
Christine took the parcel from him and headed off into the closet while Erik set her water on the desk beside the divan and then poured himself a glass. The day had worn on him as well; receiving the gift of a wife had been a dream far beyond reach for so many years, and now the reality of his deepest longings was only steps away.
Erik heard the closet door open and he turned- then he stopped.
The late afternoon light was filtering in through the window slats, painting Christine in stripes of shadow and sun. The garment delivered by the servants was a gown designed for seduction. It might have been another cruel trick devised by the Queen to have her wear such a thing, but Erik didn't care.
It might have been Fate repaying him for hypnotizing Christine, for Erik was now trapped in thrall just as she had been.
The gown was sheer white gossamer, so thin and delicate that Erik feared it would blow from her body at the slightest of winds. Flowers of lace cupped Christine's generous breasts, while the rest of the gown fell open to reveal the naked skin of her stomach and legs. Her femininity was shielded from his eyes by lace undergarments. The gown was indecent, ethereal- meant to tempt a man by a combination of gentle innocence and exposed wantonness.
He felt the blood drain from his face and collect in his loins. Erik had been tempted by her before: when he'd first seen her asleep in his bed just that morning, when she had come alive and smiled in the garden, but this…!
There had once been a time when Erik had made himself believe that he was beyond the temptations and longings for human companionship- he'd written himself off as no longer part of the race, and humans were simply pawns used for personal gain.
What a fool he had been!
He was a man, despite all appearances, and he had longed for a friend most of his life; a friend, a companion…no man is an island, Erik knew this, no matter how badly he wished to fight the truth.
The lush green of Christine's eyes held him, and her full lips quivered into a false smile. She seemed upset, but was trying to hide it. His hands ached to reach out to her, to touch her hair and face, her body… Don't do it, Erik…
Erik cleared his throat with a great amount of effort. "Ah, Christine, go ahead and rest on the divan. Your water is there. I think I'll go out for a bit, just to speak with some of my servants, and then I'll-"
Christine flew across the room, "No, Erik! Please no, don't leave me here alone, anything could happen to me while you're gone! Those men might come back, what if she sends someone here to hurt me?"
Erik was taken aback by the forceful return of her fear. She clutched at the lapels of his suit, her hands like iron. He took a step back and pulled her hands from his jacket. He had to calm her. "If you wish, Christine, I will stay. Go to the divan and rest yourself. I understand everything that you've gone through today- waking to find yourself here in this strange place, I know what a shock it has been to you. Please, you need to rest," Erik guided her to the sofa and gently forced her to sit.
He stepped back and watched in strange amusement as she arranged the long wings of the gown around her. Christine hated showing so much of her body to him, but she said nothing of it. She trusted Erik not to touch her.
Christine took a deep breath and moved her black waves over one shoulder to ease the heat on her neck and back. The water was sipped, and the body relaxed. She closed her eyes briefly and took several deep breaths.
Erik settled into one of the chairs across from her. He leaned back and tried not to be obvious in watching her. He knew that the mask was a question in her mind, and he would have to answer her soon.
"Erik,"
"Yes?"
"What do you do here?"
"Do you mean, as an occupation?"
"Yes- I want to know the reason that you're in Tejar," Christine stated plainly.
Erik touched his dark hair. Where to start?
"Originally, I came here from Paris, hired on by the emir as an architect for the royal court. I designed the additions to this palace and many of the more functional buildings throughout this country. That fountain in the garden, I designed it."
Christine smiled, "It's beautiful, Erik. We don't have things like that where I'm from. The island is a simple place, too simple I think. But, if you are an architect, why does the Queen seem to hate you?"
Erik sat down in a chair across from her. "She does hate me. It's been five years since she enslaved me."
Christine started up from the divan, "You're a slave, Erik? But, they allow you your own room and servants- you walk the palace freely!"
He raised a hand in a gesture for her to calm herself. "I am still the court architect and chief designer, Christine. I am still a magician and artist…but it's been five years since she enslaved me into her private service. You see, the emir was not the only child of our Queen. There was a daughter. A beautiful, bright child. Are you shocked? It surprised me as well, to find that a girl so wonderful had come from such a wicked, vile womb…"
Christine leaned forward and took Erik's hand. He laced their fingers and she did not object.
"I was preparing for the girl's 15th birthday celebration. A fireworks display. There were no fireworks here, and so I had to create my own. There was…an accident in the laboratory that I'd used to create these wonderful displays. She had gone searching for me in the little lab room, she was there when it happened- all the factors pointed to her having tinkered with the chemicals. Nazahah, the princess, the Little Sultana…she was terribly burned. I was able to save her from the fire, but she was so horribly damaged from the blast and debris…"
Erik paused. It was not in his nature to relive such horrible memories over and over again. He had few happy memories to cling to, and a library of misery in his mind. Christine slid off the divan and knelt on the floor before him. She gripped his hand tighter; she put a reassuring hand on his knee. Christine could feel the muscles of his leg tense under her hand- it pleased her, in a way. "Please, Erik, tell me,"
Erik swallowed the lump in his throat and forged ahead. The girl only wanted to know why he was hated so, what terrible thing he had done to deserve the Queen's endless torture. He had not withheld from her yet, and he could not start now if he wished to gain her trust, and someday, perhaps her love.
"Her face and body were burned so badly, but she was alive, just barely. Nazahah had lost her sight and was in constant, horrible pain. The emir had brought in doctors from all over the world, but none could restore her to full health- they could only ease the pain, which was a blessing. I never left her bedside, I watched over her for weeks, but nothing I did was of much help. She died holding the Queen's hand."
Christine's eyes shined with unshed tears. "Oh Erik, I'm so sorry…"
"It's not your fault. It was my own. I should have been more careful; it must have slipped my mind on that day. I hadn't locked the door to the lab. I should have been there, not painting for the harem. I was distracted- there was a courtesan I'd met in the gardens, I'd come to care for her. I just wanted her to have a drawing of mine, I just wasn't thinking…"
The courtesan he'd met had barely spoken to him at all on that one occasion in the garden, but because she had looked at him with curiosity instead of fear, Erik had instantly become attached. Foolish, foolish…once it was recognized that the girl drew his attention, she had been killed. Even before she'd had legitimate reason, the Queen had enjoyed her subtle tortures.
Christine rose from her kneeling position before Erik and put her arms around his shoulders. "Erik, listen to me. It was not your fault-"
"It makes no difference. Her death is on my hands, and the Queen has enslaved me as the punishment for allowing the death of her only daughter. She was a hateful woman before, but in her eyes I have stolen her only happiness- she is mad with sick rage and power. Since the death of our princess it has been a myriad of death- my lynch has claimed many lives, Christine. The Queen allows me to live only as her Death Angel, by breaking the necks of traitors and open enemies. By crafting torture chambers and brewing poisons…I am the monster of Tejar, Christine…I am sorry,"
Christine didn't know what she could say. There were no words to respond to all that he had just told her! He had killed- broken the necks of countless people just to save his own. She couldn't move, her arms remained around him, her face hidden from his view. He could not see her shock and revulsion at all he'd told her. A tear slipped from her face and landed on the cheek of his mask.
In her arms, she held a killer, a master of death!
Erik pulled himself free of her now numb embrace. "Yes, I am a murderer. I will not lie to you. Blood coats my hands, the blood of other killers, the blood of rapists and I know, the blood of innocents. The Queen is as mad as she is beautiful- nothing pleases her more than to watch me torture and kill."
Erik laughed bitterly and gripped Christine's hands in his. "She taunts me with anything she can think of, she only gave you to me because she knew that I would be tempted by you. You are beautiful, and we share a language that no one in the entire palace can understand. I will not lie. I desire you, Christine. My God, what man wouldn't? Do you know that you are the only woman who has ever slept in my bed?"
Christine shook her head- she couldn't understand why Erik was telling her any of this. "Erik, what are you talking about? If you were the court architect-"
"I am still the court designer!" Erik leapt up from his chair and began to pace erratically. "I am a slave only to the Queen- my power within the courts as a magician and artist has only diminished in her eyes. She can torture me all she likes, it doesn't matter! You cannot kill what is already dead!"
"Erik, stop it! What on earth are you talking about? You aren't making any sense!" Christine cried.
Her outburst caught his attention. "Oh! Christine, I am sorry! I never meant to tell you any of this, my God, what you must think of me…I am sorry. I've just never had anyone to talk to, you see. How pathetic I am, I should never have said anything. But now you know why the Queen hates me- I killed her daughter."
Christine reached up and put her hands out to cup his masked face in her hands. "But it wasn't your fault!"
"The Queen cares not, nor will she ever. I am the target at which she directs her furious grief. Every time she has a nightmare, or even a daydream of Nazahah, I am called to her hall for some new torture, some new humiliation. I will not let her corrupt you, Christine," Erik turned to her and retook her hands into his shaking grip.
"I will not let her hurt you. I have an idea of when we can make our escape. I won't have my last actions be those of cowardice or guilty compliance. I will bring you home, Christine, if it is the last thing I do!"
