BOOK SIX:

Trials of Love

Love Must Be Tested

Up until now we have alluded to the two halves never being whole again. We have mentioned that once they found each other, they could not survive without the other. When Benoit sent Aurelie back to Paris in late May of 1832, he reminded her that he had learned once that Enjolras was lost without her love.

These things can be assumed upon, but not known until love has suffered through. It takes a trial to solidify what is believed in. Belief can be enough, but rarely in love.

We will hear the tale of their first glance upon a remembrance later at the barricade, but now we deal with their trial.

The secret became a problem six months after Aurelie had moved to Paris. King Louis Philippe was indeed becoming a King, though different than the kings prior. Instead of ruling with force and strength, he was trying to please both sides equally. New charters were written and revised weekly. The outcome left things even less fair than before and angered all sides until he finally gave into the side that buttered his bread, creating more problems than the people could stand.

While Aurelie's point had been proven the first night with these problems, Enjolras was taking things to the next level and demanding a republic now rather than believing in an easier transition. A new character had entered his secret society by the name of Marius Pontmercy, and their massive disagreements had solidified his arguments and his dedication to a democracy. He was more agitated than ever, and perhaps this played a part in what transpired.

You might assume that Aurelie became fed up with the secret imposed on her, and you would not be inaccurate. She was indeed tried by this. There were two extremes she had bounced between now and had not found the middle.

As a Baron's daughter, her family had hosted many dinner parties aimed to match her with a proper husband and tighten bonds between other families of status. Beautiful as she was, the highest of titles were thrown her way, yet she'd had no interest in all but one suitor, and that one was hardly at all. She was a devoted daughter to a point of fault and was prepared to do her duty, but her father did not recognize the daughter he loved when she was with these men. So off they went. Steadfast, opinionated and often times a handful, her father was waiting for the one she would fight with, not just curtsey and nod.

On the opposite side of the spectrum, Aurelie had now fallen deeply in love—a love that began with a fight, as her father had expected of her—and no dinner parties had been thrown. Parents were not shooing the lovers out for a walk alone or speaking of allegiances behind closed doors. She was in a new life now and did not expect it to be like the old.

Regardless, it must be admitted that for these first six months there were times Aurelie wished to hold his hand on the street or share a private meal in a public setting.

Be that as it may, it's the easy route to assume Aurelie threw a tantrum, demanding she be acknowledged instead of hidden. And was she any of the women who tailed Enjolras trying to catch his eye—those women he peered at with disdain—that would have been the case. These girls who whispered and giggled around Enjolras would have announced to all that they had claimed the leader.

Aurelie was no other woman.

On the other hand, Enjolras one evening behaved as such.

The second floor of the café was alive with more than just the Les Amis. Aurelie liked to spend her evenings here as often as she could without being perceived as a swooning girl. She was rather a devotee. A supporter. She could speak on dates: 1772, 1793, 1815. She could quote both Bonaparte and Voltaire. She had also reached a point where she knew the likes of these modern men in Cougourde and Les Halles. She could talk of life and death and the times between. The men loved having her, as she could stand on her own two feet and match their wits be it in debates or antics. They very much viewed her as one of them. An honorary member at the very least.

There were rare times their mistresses would be invited for a party instead of a men's club, and these were not Aurelie's favorite nights, but nights she could get away with spending more time with her brother's friends.

Her love's friends.

Her love.

Constantly worrying of how his actions might be perceived, Enjolras spent less time with her than the rest, but would indulge in a head-butting when views of the world were shared. And because the two were such fantastic orators, they were either watched like a street performance or left alone while the men shrugged, finding it rather impossible to compete against their eloquence.

This so happened to be one of the nights the men had brought women on their arms; any little plaything they had scrounged up for the evening to trifle and flirt with, perhaps coax into their beds. More wine was consumed on these sorts of nights and the atmosphere was always playful.

Save for the times Enjolras and Aurelie would inevitably unsheathe their cat claws and debate the newest legislation placed upon the citizens as King Louis Philippe tried to satisfy both sides of the castes.

"And you are going to sit there and tell me that you not only accept, but agree that our economic state is the result of crop failures? It is nothing but handfed crow to the masses so no fault is placed upon the government, instead their empty stomachs are the will of God. God has wished they starve and so it is so. You and I both have lived in the south, Aurelie!" Enjolras said while knocking his knuckles on the table between them.

"I am going to tell you like it is, Enjolras," Aurelie said calmly, having made no reaction to his outburst. Not even a blink. "It's a fact. It does not mean there is not corruption, because there most certainly is in abundance. Our lack of abundance has been in the food production, among many other excuses given. You cannot gloss over a fact because it does not suit your argument."

Enjolras gaped. "Food production as a convenient excuse is the entire point of my argument!" he cried, flinging his hands in the air. "We have seen a bad winter, as we have for four years, but that is not the only thing that breaks us. It's the excuse I will not tolerate. Kings are what put us into debt, not the people. Not hard winters and crop failures. Kings!"

They had not realized how close their heads were until Bossuet slammed his hands on the table between them, springing from nowhere. "For the love of God!" he yelled. "Can you not rest? I left this conversation thirty minutes ago and walk by to find you still in the middle of it! You have been at this for the better part of an hour. I can't even count the figures thrown about. I heard once a debt of thirty thousand livres, then the next twelve billion! Can you not see that those around you are debating the merits of love and alcohol rather than the crop failures?"

He clapped Enjolras on the back. "Take a break and breathe for once," he said, bringing his pitch down, then pointed toward the stairs. "Now there is a lonely little sparrow across the room. If you cannot find an interest within you, at least pretend for a night so we don't feel like fools who don't meet your standard."

Aurelie laughed. "Indeed, Enjolras," she said wickedly. "A lovely sparrow, at that. Leave your failed debate with me and grab a bottle of wine. You cannot win here, perhaps you can win there."

To punctuate this, she stole Bossuet's bottle and took a long swig while keeping her eyes locked on Enjolras, a sardonic smile able to be seen even with her lips against the rim.

He tried very hard to not look as aghast as he felt, as angered at the both of them, and attempted to recover from the fact that his love was pushing him to another woman, albeit a mocking dare.

"You see?" Bossuet said, then gripped Aurelie's hand. "Even the swan is shooing you away. I know not who has won this argument, but it is clear that you have lost the prize. Find another you stand a chance with."

He then kissed her hand and planted himself on the table between them, leaning down on his elbow to face Aurelie.

"And you believe you do?" Aurelie cried while tossing her head back in laughter.

"I believe that someday you'll recognize my charm and fall in love with me, even if it's still not tonight," he said while grinning mischievously.

Flicking her eyes to Enjolras, she smiled. "I have bad news for you, Bossuet. If it hasn't happened yet, I'd say you've lost this bet as much as you lose your coins to my brother. Is there any fortune that actually befalls you in this life or are you destined to tripping around?"

Gripping his heart, Bossuet pouted. "You wound me, Mam'selle!"

"You have charm," Aurelie said, patting his cheek in feigned pity. "Unfortunately it is wasted on me."

"Alas, it is mine to waste, and I have determination in abundance!"

Inflamed, Enjolras rose from his chair and planted himself beside Courfeyrac at the table beside this one.

"Ah, now that the general has left, let us delve into a debate of love. We can talk of the economy tomorrow. Enlighten me, Swan. Tell me what I do wrong and I will rectify it presently."

Aurelie, feeling a slight pity while still quite amused over Enjolras' annoyance, felt it necessary to aim something his way, though said with her eyes on Bossuet.

"Perhaps it's that I wish to talk of the economy, and that you've proven to be unable to charm you way through it!"

Bossuet leapt up and took the vacated chair. "Oh, but the economy is charming! Have you not noticed how alluring coins are? They sparkle when you have them and plead to be spent on wine and women! I have my wine, and it is here to share with a woman, so please, have another drink."

"You are absurd."

This was also aimed at Enjolras, as she could plainly see how low his brows had fallen, his jaw locked in place.

Wit was exchanged, as was the bottle until it was empty.

"As entertained as you've had me, Bossuet, I still say you are lost here in this territory," Aurelie said, rising from her chair. "I'm off to check on my brother, make sure those shiny coins are in his pocket and not Grantaire's. The swallow is still lonely; perhaps she can be charmed to the point of love, whereas I am as charmed as a queen to a court jester."

"One day," Bossuet said, lifting himself from the chair to purchase another bottle. "One day you will walk down the street, and it's just any other day. The birds sing, the clouds sail, the sun shines, and it will suddenly strike your heart that it belongs to me. You'll find me here with my wine, waiting."

"That or a bed," Aurelie said.

"That you've joined me in?" Bossuet pleaded.

Smiling, Aurelie said: "With a sparrow, Monsieur. When I've turned you down enough, you'll find that I am no swan. I am a crow."

"Never!" Bossuet yelled while raising his empty bottle in the air, having turned away at this, and those close enough who had caught bits of this spectacle began to point at him and laugh.

"You'll never win her, dear man. Give it up."

"I applaud your efforts!"

"Go with the economy next time!"

"She's as untouchable as Enjolras!"

Speckled throughout as Bossuet continued to walk, he would respond again by shouting: "Never!"

Having been talking to Courfeyrac and Prouvaire half-heartedly, Enjolras did not even excuse himself from the conversation as he rose and clutched Aurelie's arm before she got too far.

His mouth near her ear, he said sideways: "You will not do that again."

Floored, Aurelie could feel her face redden. No one was looking at them, and she whispered back: "You will not tell me what I can and cannot do."

Her arm was released and she continued on as though no words had been exchanged. But she was angry. Had she been baiting him? Without a doubt, she knew he was annoyed by Bossuet's advances. But if he didn't recognize where her heart rested, he was a fool who had not been paying attention. It was on him to make it stop, not her. All it would take is one word, one command, and no one would flirt with her as to not draw his ire. His friends may tease him for his love, but they would not go so far as to push a button with him by flirting with the woman at his side. She did not seek out attention, she only volleyed. In debates with him and flirtations with others.

But she was certainly fuming now as she made her way to Benoit and grabbed his shoulder. "And how are the dominos treating you?"

"Not all that well," Benoit said through his teeth as Bahorel snickered, scooping up the money while Grantaire threw his blocks down on the table dramatically.

Looking around at the four men, Aurelie boldly said, "Then you'll let me in to win it back."

This was about as improper as it got here, and many widened their eyes as she ripped a chair from a neighboring table and dragged it over. Drinking, flirting, teasing, politics; all these were permitted, but a woman joining the game surprised them all.

She did not care as she planted herself at the table. She came up with a handful of coins and slammed them on the table in front of her, then ripped the bottle from Grantaire and took a swig in the most unladylike fashion possible.

"Deal," she ordered Bahorel.

He did as he was bid.

And Then She is Gone

The pair did not speak to each other for three days. They both knew how explosive it would be, and both hoped that if some time passed it would downgrade from a thunderstorm to a downpour.

As Enjolras had started it, he was the first to break and slipped a note under her door that asked her to come to his apartment that night.

She did not.

This was in defiance of what he had said. And he knew it, so the letter that followed the next day read:

"I am not telling you what you can and cannot do."

She arrived that night just before sundown. The past days had been spent thinking about exactly how she would word her arguments and convincing herself that if he did not understand, she would leave. This would be the hardest thing she'd ever done, possibly harder than losing her former life as her world crumbled a few years back, as this would be a decision she would have to enforce. But she would not allow herself to be told what to do by any man, especially one who insisted on a secret.

"Aurelie," Enjolras said with a nod, trying to hide that he was losing his anger upon seeing her. "You look well tonight."

"I'm glad, for you look a mess," Aurelie said nonchalantly. How beautiful he was though, even with a hint of dark circles under his tired eyes. She sighed. "But I feel a mess, in no small part thanks to you."

Enjolras widened the door, a physical pain in his chest. He did not like that he had wounded her, despite how vehement he felt.

Once inside, he poured her a glass of wine, then one for himself. When they'd sat down at the table in the small kitchen, a large sip was taken by each as they prepared for the war. Finally tossing his shoulders back, predisposed, he said, "I do not like how you're spoken to."

This was the beginning and an ease in before telling her he did not like how she spoke back.

Aurelie knew this and flipped it to the root of the problem immediately. "Yet you blame me."

"Of course I blame you, for you sit there and allow it," Enjolras said.

It's important to note that this early on, their tone was the same carried in a debate of politics. Both holding their ground without emotion. But as debates heat up, emotion inevitably ends up involved when passionate over the topic, and both were just as passionate about each other as the state of the world, if not more.

Aurelie pursed her lips while looking up and to the right. "If you think that I will not play back in that sort of atmosphere, you do not know me at all. I will hold my ground the same way I always do. You should not expect me to turn red and run away."

"No," Enjolras agreed. "Instead of that, you play a game that you are hard to acquire, which you no doubt are, while leaving the possibility open."

"At exactly what point have I ever left the door open in regards to anyone?"

"There is such a thing as holding your ground and telling someone to go away," Enjolras responded. "But instead you flirt back."

"Remind me what I say, for I believe you're forgetting that I deny all advances."

"With the tone of a flirt!" Enjolras said, the first to raise a voice. "It's the tone that leaves the door open, not the words."

"So let me get this right, and by all means correct me if I'm wrong here," Aurelie said, leaning forward in earnest. She wanted to rise to get a head taller, but it would only result in him rising as well, so the action would nullify itself. "In the case of Saturday evening, you expected me to not laugh once and firmly state that I would have no part in this."

"I think that's a fair assessment."

Aurelie smiled viciously. "And then what?"

"However do you mean?"

She shrugged. "And then follow you to another table?"

"Perhaps."

"Alright," Aurelie responded, leaning back in her chair. "So let us take a look at how that would be perceived, because it seems to me that perception means everything to you when it comes to us. Bossuet flings himself between us and, teasingly, begins to flirt. I stand up, tell him to leave me alone, then follow you."

Before Enjolras could cut in, Aurelie continued. "So in your eyes, it is alright if I'm perceived as a lovesick puppy who follows you around like every other woman, but let's put that in reverse. If I get up first and you follow me, what then?"

"I don't believe I would follow you."

This was what did it. Aurelie rose with flair and shoved the chair into place at the table, then whisked up her wine glass, pointing at him with it.

"You are more in love with your double standard than you are with me," she accused, then took a sip of her wine.

It was not right that Enjolras was happy she had been the first to lose it, and he knew that, but felt so despite how wrong it was. It was the many debates he had won that had proven to him that when a party was losing, they ended up emotional and defensive.

"The air is alight," Enjolras said. "Unease fills us half a year after the July Revolution, and let me be honest with both humility and pride that I am turned to in the end. These men are sharp and tenacious. Many times I learn from them, we know this. But we need to face that appearances matter in this world. Many citizens are already fed up and rallying together. This location has been assumed as mine, and those around me expect me in the role of leadership."

"A rightful role," Aurelie said. "I'll agree with them as well as you. You can complain of this greatness, but you are a born leader."

It was a good tactic, because this placed Enjolras in a position where he would have to be humble.

"So let me ask," Enjolras said. "With this role placed upon me—"

"Oh, do not forget to give yourself some due credit," Aurelie said, rolling her eyes.

"Fair," he agreed. "With this role I willingly take, I must lead as an example of standards I expect. I do not aim to change them, but when the time comes to be serious, I expect intrepid men who can leave the booze and women behind. If their leader is not such, how much can I ask of them without losing all respect, ultimately resulting in drunkards who will run to the beds of their mistresses at the first sight of danger?"

"You are actually telling me that these intrepid men of yours, who are indeed brilliant and as riled up as yourself, will not uphold a standard when the time comes simply because their leader behaved as one of them before?"

"I am telling you that generals need a sense of idolatry from those they lead or they have no leg to stand upon."

Aurelie shrugged. "And what of this? This argument is not anything I don't believe in as well, as much as I just fed into what you had to say. The entire point of what you have said is moot when I agree. We are not debating the secret, we are talking of your ridiculous reactions when I uphold my end of the bargain."

Having her concede to this forced him to concede in return as a favor.

"You are upholding the bargain," he said. "A bargain I wish could be different, and in another time, it would have been. When I met you I did not believe the world would crumble again so quickly. I helped these leaders fight in July and I was celebrating our victory.

"What I will not ascent to is that my reactions are ridiculous," Enjolras continued and gestured for her to sit once more. She did as she was bid, having now calmed a twinge. "What I fail to understand is how a woman as strong as any of those men allows herself to be talked to in such a way in the first place, let alone while in love with someone else."

"So it's jealousy?"

"It is a question of your love, Aurelie," Enjolras said, refusing the word however accurate it may be. "I feel that if you loved me you would not be shooing me off to a lonely girl across the room to flirt with while you flirt out of my hearing."

"Why not have a little fun?" Aurelie asked. "Or do you not know how to behave when fun enters the equation?"

"It seems we have a different opinion on what fun is," he responded tartly. "I'd rather indulge Joly in talks of Poland than indulge a lonely girl in flirtations."

"As would I," Aurelie agreed. "And if I'm being honest, I would have hated seeing you flirt. It's the secret that allows such fun and disallows us the right to be angry when the other acts accordingly."

"And you called my earlier point moot," Enjolras said, his eyes widening. "Take that honesty to the next level, my love, and admit that it's the secret that bothers you."

"But none of this is about the secret!" Aurelie cried. "This is about how you rose and told me that I will not allow that to happen again. Well, I will allow it for two reasons: it keeps our secret and I rather enjoy having words of love spoken to me in a public forum."

"And you have just nullified that this is not about the secret, as you've now said you wish for these words of love to be in a public place."

Aurelie knew when she was caught and took a second to think. No more, as she did not want to let him know he had gotten the better of her.

"I enjoy the fun of it," she stated. "I accept that it will not happen from you. Again I must ask despite this how I have possibly left a door open for Bossuet. Are you intimidated?"

"Of course not!"

"Are you fearful that I may decide to follow him to his bed, as he takes so many mistresses to?"

"I couldn't imagine it," he said. "You're too strong."

She smiled. "Not strong enough, for you yourself have taken me as a mistress behind closed doors."

"No," he disagreed. "You are no mistress. You are my heartbeat and have never seen my bed, nor I yours."

"Precisely why I say that you should roll your eyes at your desperate friend and enjoy that I am in love with you. Perhaps you can even feel some pride that I am desired, yet you have won. Take it as a victory instead of fearing a loss, for you will not lose me."

"I cannot tolerate you flirting despite it," Enjolras stated firmly.

"Well, you'll have to," Aurelie said with a shrug.

"I will not," Enjolras said, taking this to a growl.

"Then I rectify my earlier statement," she responded. "I will not tolerate a man telling me what I can and cannot do, even if he completes my soul. So allow me to revise: you will have to tolerate it, for I will not stop until you have staked a claim, or you lose me."

"You would honestly walk away from this sort of power—the magnitude of what we feel—to flirt!"

At this, it was Enjolras who rose, and Aurelie did the same.

"You alone have the power to stop it," she said firmly. "You have two choices, and two only. You stand up and warn all those who come near me that you will not tolerate it because I am yours, or you shut up and deal with their advances because they do not know any better."

Widening his eyes, Enjolras was angry once more. This covered the emotion he did not want to feel:

Fear.

"I'll say this one more time," Enjolras said through his teeth. "I do not like how you are spoken to, but the problem is with your responses. The third choice—and yes, there is a third—is on you. You can stand up and walk away."

"Then I'll say this one more time," Aurelie fired back, also through barred teeth. "I don't want to. I enjoy it, it helps our secret, and I've made my choice. It's up to you."

"If you are looking for a man who will shout his love from the rooftops, cupid misfired the day we met," Enjolras yelled.

Wounded as she was, in the deepest pain she'd ever felt in her life, she smiled.

So be it. Let him see if it was a misfire. She was above games, but perhaps their love needed a test so he could figure himself out. Was it worth losing him over? No, not in the slightest. But he was insecure in love and needed to find out where he stood, because he had been hovering in the middle, which was now clear to Aurelie.

"Perhaps you're right," she said calmly. "Let's find out."

Enjolras stood there, stunned, as he watched Aurelie scoop up her purse and leave his apartment, unable to believe it was real.

But it was. She had left him. And he was devastated.

What Benoit Does For Love

It must be pointed out that, while Enjolras had not lived a charmed life by any means, he was not used to denial. It was easy for him to accept a hand that had been dealt, but fought against the cards removed. This would normally mean someone is spoiled, and perhaps he was a bit. He always commanded the ears of men with ease. He'd appreciated his hot meals growing up, the middle class wealth of his family. He'd received a good education with money he had worked hard for, which differentiated him from many who were considered 'spoiled', but he would have settled for nothing less. If he'd had to take hard labor despite his intelligence to pay for it, it would have been done with the same energy he put into every action he ever made.

There were times he didn't win an argument, and even this was accepted because he left these debates with a strengthened resolve. That was the entire point, after all. He was in law school and hungry to learn, hungry to practice arguments, hungry to give the people a voice in this world.

Because nothing had ever been handed to him, it was impossible for anything to be taken away. Spoiled insinuates that one gets all they want, and indeed he had, but it had all been earned.

But in love you are powerless. Love cannot be earned if it's not there, but it can be solidified if it is. He had not imagined once that it could be taken away, and the love of his life had done just that.

This is not to say Aurelie no longer loved Enjolras, it was very much the opposite. In absence, she loved him far more than she ever had because love was now teetering at the edge of a deep crevasse. She'd put the ball in his court, a gamble too great for even her strength to handle. There were too many times to count over the week that followed that she had considered giving it up and begging for mercy, accepting that he had control over her because love had gripped her too firmly.

It was only determination that kept her where she was. When you have nothing left to fight with, determination is all that can push back.

Again and again she'd ask herself: Is this worth it? Is it worth risking the loss of him over flirting with another man?! Absolutely without a doubt it was not!

But this was not about flirting. It had nothing to do with it at all. It was about proving her strength and where she would stand from here on out in their relationship. It was about him learning he could not order her. It was about him discovering how deep his love ran, and if it was not enough, she needed to learn that as well.

They had to match each other on equal footing, and that was the case for both parties. Enjolras would never settle for a weak woman who could not stand on her own two feet, Aurelie would never settle for a man who pushed her around. It was important that they solidify where the middle was or all was pointless.

It was agony for both parties.

Benoit was left helpless. The life in his sister would shoot piss and vinegar in one moment, then melt to listlessness in the next second. She would not speak of what was wrong, she never had with him. She kept her secrets close. But he knew inherently that it was Enjolras who had made her ill, as was proven at the café a few days after their war when Benoit had seen him as apathetic as Grantaire. Nothing could rile him, and believe us here when we say Benoit tried very hard. He pushed all buttons he had: the economy, the monarchy, the caste system, the refugees from Poland, the history of France, the wars fought, the necessity for a republic. He would say exactly the opposite of everything they believed in and Enjolras would just stare at him through his brows in annoyance with his chin firmly tucked low.

There were so many things wrong with this change. Benoit despised seeing his sister these days, despised what had become of her in this dark place her heart was now residing. But he had to take Enjolras into consideration as well. Brotherly instincts wanted to punch Enjolras in the jaw even if he had been in the right, and let us say here that it was equally possible in Benoit's eyes that his sister had done something ridiculous. But Enjolras consistently casual in pose, head hanging low as he'd eye the room in indignation, was equally as unacceptable as watching the life drain from Aurelie.

It would have been amusing to him if they were put side by side, as they both behaved exactly as the other in posture and attitude. Defiant, vacant and dispirited.

But he was not amused.

"Perhaps you should head to Marmande," Benoit said to Aurelie one night.

"And why would I do that?"

Benoit scoffed. "Because you're miserable here."

"Here is not what makes me miserable."

He tried again another night, this time with more anger laced in, as he was fed up.

"What exactly did you do?"

"I did what I must."

"And what was that?"

"I removed love from the equation," she said cryptically.

Another night, there was another exchange, this one desperate:

"Why don't you just go talk to him?"

"Who?"

"Enjolras."

"For what reason?"

"To correct whatever went wrong."

"It's out of my hands."

Exasperated by the two, Benoit avoided them both. He stopped prodding and drank, gambled, spent an evening with a girl named Petra, tried very hard to avoid the apartment he shared with his sister until she was well asleep.

"It's astounding how stubborn you are," he said to Aurelie two weeks after their war.

"You grew up with me," she retorted.

When he ran into Enjolras on his way home from his classes, something he'd been trying to avoid, he'd absolutely decided to take this to him. They could not match his anger at this point, and it was time to crack a whip and be done.

"It's astounding how stubborn you are," Benoit said by way of greeting.

"You know me better than that," Enjolras responded.

Just like his sister.

"Listen to me, Enjolras," Benoit said, gripping his elbow to be sure he'd stop and face him head on. Once eye contact was held for a second, Benoit shook his head. "I'm sending her to our cousin's."

And he meant it. It wasn't until he met Enjolras' eyes that he realized it needed to be done, but there were too many counting on him here. Yes, he wanted to lay him out for his sister's pain, but that didn't mean Benoit didn't love him like the rest. The city just wasn't big enough for two Enjolras'. Two Aurelie's.

As much pain as Enjolras had been in, this felt like a bolt of lightning through his chest. He'd never felt a loss of air, but here he could not breathe. Aurelie was his oxygen; he could not live without it.

But instead he scoffed.

"Good luck trying that," he said with a clever brow. He knew Aurelie wouldn't let anyone else make up her mind.

Benoit shrugged. "You know my sister, but not as well as I do," he responded with ease. "She may not like being told what to do, but she puts family over her happiness, always. If I tell her our cousins need her, that's all it will take to put her happiness aside. Not that she's happy right now. What you don't know is that we had men paraded around our house in Lavaur and she did as she was bid as a duty to our father. It was our father who sent them away, not her, and only because he knew this as well as I did. That she would always sacrifice for our family, and he would not force her into a marriage that would leave her miserable just out of duty."

Yes, Enjolras had been sobered.

"You," Benoit continued. "She came to life around you. She's always been impossible but she found her ground here. I don't know who started whatever this is . . . probably her if I'd venture to guess. But understand this: you want a secret because you want to appear strong, but with her in close proximity you'll never be strong again. We can't take it in a time like this. What is happening with you now is worse than your secret, so pick yourself up. She'll be gone by the end of the week."

With a shaking hand, Enjolras ran his fingers through the golden locks at his forehead, his palm pressed firmly against his skin. He turned. Hesitated. Back to Benoit. Turn once more. He paced like this three times, then reared his hand back.

He then punched Benoit in the jaw.

Benoit laughed as he rose, recovering from the blow and wiping his lip. He checked his thumb for blood, found a little smear, then licked it away from his lip.

"That's what I'm talking about," Benoit said through his chuckle, then punched Enjolras back. "And fair is fair. Figure it out or she's gone."

Enjolras was massaging his knuckles as he pursed his lips to the side in an exasperated smile, shaking his head and rolling his eyes. "I don't even know where to begin," he finally said.

"Tell me about it," Benoit agreed with a chuckle. "I've no doubt she's difficult to love. We men need an upper hand and she never allows one. Worse . . . I don't want her with you, yet there is no one more suited. You both scare me in exactly the same way and I haven't the faintest idea how you'll ever get through it. That's why I'm saying figure it out. If you love her as much as I do, you've won the prize of Paris." He paused, then shrugged. "And a large headache."

"She's no headache," Enjolras said fondly. "There is no one more perfect in this world."

Benoit gestured toward Saint-Michelle with his head. "Perhaps you should tell her that."

Enjolras began to laugh, the first sign of life from him in weeks. "I should not have hit you, brother."

"No, I deserved it," he responded with a grin. "The threat was hollow. Well, mostly. I hadn't decided yet. But her dedication to family was no lie. Think about giving her a reason to have a duty to you, you'll be the better for it. She'll be easier to handle, and you'll come back to life. I thought you rather incredible before, but didn't know the extent of it until after the two of you met. You breathe life to each other."

Enjolras clapped Benoit on the back and squeezed his shoulder before the two walked back to rue Saint-Martin. And along the way, Enjolras asked, "Tell me about her suitors so I know the men I'm up against."

And along the way, Enjolras decided what needed to be done.

The following night, Aurelie twirled her fork in the noodles on her plate while gazing sideways at the ceiling, her eyes hooded. It had begun as a roll of her eyes and paused halfway through the action, and Benoit began to laugh at her ridiculousness. After his boxing match with Enjolras yesterday, he was feeling quite a bit better. Well enough to enjoy her misery and make fun of it rather than feeling sick over her pain.

"You should see what I'm looking at," he said, then called out across the tavern, "Where can I find a mirror?"

"Leave me be," Aurelie said snidely. "I just finished a long shift here; you'll let me grip my annoyance and exhaustion without troubling everyone else. Why are we up here, by the way?"

She gazed around the room for the first time since she'd sat down. She was the only woman on the second floor, which happened on those rare occasions, but she certainly did not want to be here. Especially with Enjolras across the room scolding Grantaire about his bad habits.

The only reason she had even let Benoit drag her up here was because she hadn't seen him for a few days and she was interested in his state of mind. She'd hit the point where she accepted that nothing would change, but that didn't mean she wasn't heartsick. She would never be whole again.

"I believe it's worth seeing what you're missing out on," Benoit said, speaking of Enjolras but not saying it outright.

The eye roll finally completed its circle, and Benoit laughed again, unable to help himself. It had only been the last few days that she'd become melodramatic, something he'd never seen before from her. She was always so pulled together; a pillar of marble who could argue and laugh with the best of them while still maintaining the secrets of Mona Lisa.

"If that's that, I believe I'll take my leave, as I've seen it all."

With this, Aurelie rose, leaving a full plate and an empty glass of wine. She rolled her shoulders so she would carry herself with poise, regardless of how miserable she was. She noted to herself that she was losing it and decided to straighten herself out here and now. Her display in front of her brother was absurd, and it was no use anymore.

Just before the stairs, a hand caught her arm. When she turned and met Enjolras' eyes, they echoed a look of austerity.

Oh yes, he still managed to make her body tingle with a simple touch, and it devastated her.

Still she straightened further, if that was possible. But her brows had narrowed, tense against the enormous swell of despair. It was sheer torture.

Slowly, Enjolras slid his hold down to her hand and offered a pensive smile. He maneuvered himself beside her and turned to the room.

"My friends, I believe I have something worth sharing," he said proudly.

He'd caught their attention, always able to command it without a yell. Most of the room turned to him, all motions halting, bottles removed from mouths, brows raised.

Aurelie's heart began to palpitate and she stared at him in wonder. He met her eyes for only a second, but it was enough to communicate it all, everything he felt for her, his apologies, his undying love.

Bringing her other hand to his, she gripped it tightly at his side.

"No."

It was a whisper with an infinitesimal shake of her head. This was her concession. Her apology. Her undying love for him. None of it mattered anymore. She knew he was about to do it, it was no bluff, and the "no" was a plea.

Enjolras had decided quickly yesterday what his course of action would be, and he was stunned that she'd vetoed the promise he'd made to himself. Silently, he asked with his eyes if she was sure.

She was.

"Mam'selle Aurelie and I actually agreed on something," he said pointedly. "I believe we've found common ground after our many debates, and let it be known here and now that I was wrong and she won the argument."

He smiled at her as he shrugged, and it had worked. He had told this to her quite clearly with his statement, and the guise had the men toasting them, sick to death of their heated debates.

"Here here!"

"Let it be the first of many!"

"Enjolras, you're human after all!"

"If I had to hear of crop failures one more time I'd have hung myself from the window!"

The last was Bossuet.

It's important to explain that their hand holding was viewed as a handshake and nothing more. Two contenders offering congratulations and condolences. But to Aurelie and Enjolras, it was quite different.

And as the men turned back to their conversations—as Fueilly continued his passionate speech about Poland, as Joly shared a new thought on an experimental procedure, as Grantaire entertained three men with a story of a woman he'd been with the night before—as all of this took place, Enjolras leaned toward Aurelie's ear.

"Marry me," he said.

No, he had not thought long and hard about what he must do to make things right. Both ideas had struck him in seconds while walking with Benoit. He'd been ready to tell all, and he was now giving her a reason to stay. She was dedicated to family, and if she accepted, he would never have to question her dedication again.

A smile crept across Aurelie's face, the first in two weeks.

"I will."