BOOK ELEVEN:

Stars Align

Love Borne in a Glance

Aurelie arrived in a carriage wearing her burgundy travel attire, her trunk packed with fine clothing. With the death of her father, no one had been left but her cousin and his family on a farm in the south. She'd always hoped to further her education and to give her life more meaning. While a life lived had meaning, she wanted hers to be following the footsteps of her father and brother, not a milkmaid.

Benoit was overcome with joy when he'd seen her carriage, and embraced her tightly the second she had climbed out as he lifted her feet from the pavement, spinning her in a circle. "How happy I am that you are here," he exclaimed. "My dear sister, I can't wait to share my world here with you."

"And what a world it is," Aurelie said, looking around Place Saint Michel. She had expected different surroundings; higher living to go with his higher education. And still this place, for reason unknown, felt right. Something was in the air here that gave her elation, and it was more than just her brother.

"Let us take your things to our room," he said, hoisting a trunk to his shoulder. She followed him to a building behind a bustling café, up to the second floor where he opened a door.

This was nothing like what she'd grown up in, and she did not care. The life of privilege had meant nothing. Living for another day was a bore when you have it all. When you have nothing more to live for. Here, everyone lived for another day, but worked for the right to it.

"I'll leave you to change," Benoit said once her trunks had been deposited on the floor near a table. He left the room, closing the door behind him.

Aurelie gazed out the window and realized how inappropriate her dress would feel down on the streets. Everything she owned had embroidery and lace adorning the brightly colored garments. Everyone below was dirty and poor, though some stood out in the crowd. There was a woman and a man purchasing meats from a deli who had obviously come from elsewhere to buy. A blond man entered the café in a bright red jacket, looking rather resplendent. Otherwise everyone blended in to a sea of browns and greys, and she would strive to do the same.

Taking out a dress that had a purple corset, she held it up, scrutinizing the fabric and colors. The sheer above the corset was the color of bark on a tree, which seemed to blend with the dirty clothes below if no one knew better.

So picking up a knife on the table, she slit a hole in the sheer at the shoulder. Looking around the room, she found a match beside her brother's pipe. Lighting it, she held it to the corset and let it brown a patch at the stomach. Tossing it to the floor, she did not think of the money that had paid for this dress, only that it needed a different kind of attention paid.

After stomping it with her boots on the dirty floorboards, then scraping it across to let the fabric texture against the splinters, she raised it to admire her handiwork.

Here, she did not want to stand out. She was not a visitor. Here she a resident.

While the purple was still a little too bright for her newfound taste, she found she loved the dress more than she had when it had been made for it. Remembered how she'd thought the seamstress terrible, which she still believed; the seamstress had done far too good of a job. It was just now that it had become her favorite.

Benoit leaned against the brick wall outside, and he gasped as Aurelie walked out. He'd only recognized her hair, not her personage. He reached for the skirt and gripped a fistful of fabric. "Aurelie, what have you done?"

Pursing her lips, Aurelie looked down at the dusted skirt, how the fabric had threads pulling free. "I do not care to remember the life we lived, Benoit," she said, then shrugged. "Ma and Pa are lost now, and I'm home here with you."

A strange thing, Benoit thought. His sister was beautiful even in this state of dress. But she became more lovely with this action, because she'd noticed the world outside the safety of the walls they'd grown up in. It had taken him longer than a glance at it to understand, yet she knew of it in the first minutes.

Taking her hand, he said to her, "Let me take you to supper."

Aurelie laughed with delight. "You'll allow me to be seen with you in a dirty dress?"

"I love you more for it," he said, then kissed her cheek.

They walked into the Café Musain together. It was a lively scene: local drunkards doing what they knew best. Local thieves doing what they must. Local citizens trading their precious coins for a full belly. She'd arrived with what little money her family had left, which was far more than she'd need here, yet found she wanted none of it. She would earn her keep here. But tonight she would dine.

They spent an hour feasting, sipping their wine. A bottle later, Aurelie felt the drink in her brain and had transitioned from the proper manners she'd been taught as a lady into a girl who could laugh and scream with glee. She'd always had a wild and defiant streak to her, but had been scolded when it was overly present. In creating this new life, she could be who she had always been.

They shared memories of growing up in mockery, a life that had ended. She knew not what life she would lead now, and was exhilarated with the uncertainty.

"Come with me," Benoit said, rising and taking her hand. "This is not where I usually spend my time."

Aurelie stood as he gestured his head to the ceiling, then proceeded to follow him to the staircase. He turned around and took the first few backwards. "You'll meet my friends," he said with excitement and pride. "My classmates and comrades. We are the Les Amis de l'ABC!"

There was a spiral staircase, and shoes came into focus. The crowd was raucous, the men up here obviously filled with more drink than she'd consumed. And when trousers were level with her head, she noticed they were all men. This she was not accustomed to.

"Benoit," she hissed. Where she came from, supper was shared, then the women took to the drawing room while the men stayed behind to speak of things they could not share in front of the women. That didn't mean she wouldn't spy and think them absurd for not allowing her presence. "Should I even be up here?"

Benoit laughed loudly. "This is a different life, Aurelie. You'll hear far worse than anything said in the other room when you retired, it's time to get used to it now."

Aurelie gulped. She had entered foreign territory today, but it's easier change a presentation than to change a mind. Her hand taken by her brother, she finished the climb.

Every man here was Benoit's age, and there was little food, mostly empty plates. Bottles of wine sat on every table, some full, many polished off. Her eyes widened as she saw a man with dark unruly hair standing on top of a chair, reciting a love poem in mockery while pointing at a redhead below. She'd never seen anyone so taken with drink as he, and the men who surrounded him laughed so hard she thought they may pass out.

Benoit chuckled a growl in the back of his throat, noticing how Aurelie's eyes had popped, transfixed on Grantaire's escapades.

"Pay no attention to him," he said through his laugh, sucked in a snort. "You will love him the way one loves a lost puppy. He's entirely out of his mind until he sleeps."

"Benoit!" a balding man shouted, then rushed over to him and clapped his hand on her brother's back. He looked Aurelie over. "Who do you have on your arm?"

And that tone was teasing, the question insinuating more.

"My sister, Aurelie," he said proudly, though distancing himself with his tone so Bossuet didn't get the wrong impression. "This is Bossuet."

"Laigle," the Monsieur said, offering her his hand. He swayed slightly, though his eyes were trained in hers with intent. She'd had this effect on men, but felt free here to laugh about it publicly, which she did while placing her hand in his. "Bossuet is but a nickname."

"Monsieur," she said, bowing her head. The poor man was aged from his lack of hair, though only a few years older judging by his youthful face.

He grinned, smitten. Was able to pull her from the arm of her brother. "Come with me," he said as Benoit laughed through a roll of his eyes. His poor sister! "Share my wine."

"And his bed!" someone yelled, and Aurelie froze as though she'd run into a wall. It was only a moment before she realized this was teasing in the way men would, though was unfamiliar with this sort of vulgarity, and she turned around and laughed with the sublime shock of it all.

At the table, Aurelie was handed an empty goblet that was quickly filled.

"This is Aurelie, the sister of our Benoit!" Bossuet hollered over the table. All eyes turned to her, and she tilted her chin to her shoulder and curtsied playfully.

"Monsieurs," she said with a wide grin.

Courfeyrac had halted his discussion of the election with Enjolras and looked beyond him to see a beautiful girl beside Bossuet and Benoit.

Upon finding Courfeyrac's attention had been lost, Enjolras rolled his eyes with a sardonic grin and looked over his shoulder. His grin suddenly left his face as though he'd been slapped and his lips slightly parted. Slowly, he swiveled the rest of his body in line with his head until he faced the girl. She was laughing at Bossuet as she brought the goblet to her lips. Angels could not rival that laugh, and her golden hair and blue eyes were to be envied by heaven.

Her eyes then met his, and everything he'd ever believed to be true faded into the light of this woman. He'd heard of love, knew some poems and songs. Had seen his friends ooh and ahh over women, and he'd teased them for it. He'd roll his eyes and think them absurd.

It was the man in the red jacket, Aurelie realized. The blond curls she'd seen as she'd looked down at the street studying the attire to observe what she'd have to do to fit in here. She'd only seen his crown as he'd entered the café, and only now remembered how when her carriage had approached, she'd looked upon this wretched place knowing she was at home.

She now understood why. She'd died too young with the deaths of her parents; that life had ended. She'd lived in uncertainty, wondering when her new life would begin.

Here she was reborn, and it was realized through the eyes of this man. The man in the red jacket.

In a glance, she found the stories were true: Love can strike one breathless. God had taken longer to create the world than he could create love, and love she now knew was more magnanimous than the earth.

"A pleasure," she heard a voice in the background, bringing her back from the heavens into the world. Realized that a man was standing across the table with his hand out to her, and it was clear she'd missed the introduction.

"Yes," she said, though glanced at the man in the red jacket again. She would be hard pressed to stop, her soul gravitating toward him. "I'm sorry," she said, furrowing her brows. "I missed your name."

"Combeferre," he said, and she finally took the hand offered. It was kissed, and she released it with haste.

Despite all effort, Enjolras' brain was losing the war. He could look nowhere else, could not form a coherent thought. Couldn't begin to fathom how he'd lost himself. He no longer knew who he was, something he'd always been so sure of.

"Oi! Enjolras!" Bossuet yelled, and Enjolras snapped from his reverie with a shudder. Located Bossuet to the left of this girl. Bossuet's head was thrown back with a stupefied expression. "Benoit's sister! Can you fathom it!?"

"Oh, yes," Benoit said, rushing to Enjolras' side. He wildly gestured to Aurelie. He didn't think it odd that he felt as though he were introducing his sister to a king, because it was very much that. Enjolras was the embodiment of what every man strived to be.

Enjolras rose slowly, his mouth finally closing and only so he could swallow.

Benoit placed his hands on Enjolras' shoulders. "This is the man I wrote about," he said eagerly. He'd moved to Paris for college, but it was to Place Saint Michel he'd settled to be nearer to Enjolras. Though Enjolras had wealth, as did Benoit, they strived to surround themselves with what needed to be changed. Enjolras had shown him the world for what it was, giving him the most powerful of virtues: Conviction. "The one who aided in the July Revolution. Since then, he's been speaking to the people."

As if Enjolras could speak on the world now. He knew things. He knew of the world and how it should be. But if asked to speak of this moment in time, he would have no words.

So Aurelie had been in love with this man in the red coat before she'd seen him; it was only laying eyes upon him that her love had become realized. She'd loved him through the letters her brother had sent. How much Benoit respected him. She'd felt the passion in Benoit's words as he spoke of politics, things he had seen that were not right. And when they were attached with the preface of "Enjolras' says . . .", the ideals that followed had made her in love with the ghost who had originally spoke them.

Though she certainly had not imagined him to be as beautiful as this.

Enjolras rallied because he had to. He would not be perceived by his peers as weakened for a woman, however weakened he'd become. For all his disapproving looks he'd offered when his friends were in this position, he would take their jabs tenfold.

"Monsieur," Aurelie said, though it came out through breath only. It seemed that they had fallen in love, though she could not assume this upon him. She only knew she had, and that was enough.

"Aurelie," Enjolras said, bowing his head with respect and awe. He held his hand out, and the moment hers was curved over his fingers, he felt a connection of their souls; hers entering his and melding together. It could be no other way.

And he had yet to bring his lips to her hand. He'd never done so, never bestowed a kiss on any hand in his life. But there was an exigency for his lips to meet her skin, and he did so with a prayer upon them.

Benoit noticed something, could not pinpoint what it was because it was too impossible. But his eyes darted between them and the world hushed, though the room was actually quite loud. There was recognition nagging his brain, but was preposterous. The thought of Enjolras having been affected was only something joked about behind his back, and even then, with great respect that Enjolras never wavered.

When Enjolras' mouth turned to a pensive smile, Aurelie's world changed again. She wondered if everything would be in a state of metamorphosis from here out, as it seemed this man had the power to change her at every turn. It was dizzying the way this affected her. And she ducked her head to hide the grin that she would not allow him to see, was too embarrassed that her muscles were heading that way.

"Enjolras!" a voice called, but he did not recognize it. Her voice was the only sound he would hear. But he looked over to find Grantaire waving for his attention. "Join us in a game of Faro?"

Enjolras rolled his eyes. "And at what point have I joined you before?"

"Never!" Grantaire and those he sat with shouted, raising their bottles to the sky. "Benoit!" Grantaire attempted. "Give us your money, rich boy!"

Benoit laughed and leaned into his sister; she was quite fine on her own and always had been. "You won't mind if I leave you?" he asked, rarely ever missing an opportunity to gamble with Grantaire. Depending on his level of drink, it could land him very well off or quite poor, but they evened out in the end.

Enjolras hoped Benoit would go, and as Aurelie said, "Of course, my brother," the corner of his lip twitched. He fought that he wanted to smile.

Aurelie lifted her glass to her brother. "I will sit and sip my wine while you go lose us a fortune," she teased. "Please leave us our warm beds!"

Bossuet quickly pulled a chair from the table and gestured for her to sit with great theatrics. She laughed at this, and it did not go unnoticed that everyone in her proximity had lit up; it was that they only noticed it in themselves.

After a courtesy and a "Thank you, Monsieur," Aurelie sat and took a sip of her wine. She was on the corner, Enjolras at the head of the table. He swung his chair around; it had previously been facing the table behind them while he'd been debating with Courfeyrac.

"Tell me, Aurelie," Bossuet began. "How in the name of God are you related to that rather ordinary brother of yours?"

Aurelie's laugh was low, now in the mood to play like a man. Benoit was not close to ordinary in looks nor thought, but the compliment had been received in that form, and she was ready to fire back just as teasingly.

"God overcompensates."

Everyone around her laughed riotously.

"That he does!" Bossuet hollered, his eyes wide. She was a beauty and quick witted. "It seems when he's finished the first, he decides to one up himself, as is evident."

Aurelie eyed him levelly after sipping from her cup. "Now, you tell me, Monsieur. Have you any siblings?"

Bossuet nodded. "Aye, an older sister."

"I can see that God had little left for you," Aurelie fired.

This was when Enjolras chuckled in surprise as he saw every man at the table lean back in their chairs, laughing themselves red.

"You wouldn't believe that if you saw her. She is ghastly!" Bossuet said back, having now leaned forward on the table, taken by this woman who defied all logic and reasoning. She was spectacular!

"And what does that make you?" Combeferre asked, slapping Bossuet on the back.

Bossuet feigned a wound. "Why, the god of the sun. As the mam'selle said: God over compensates!"

"And then he perfects creation with Enjolras here," a red haired man said, pushing Enjolras from behind as he passed by, enough for Enjolras to lose his elbows on the table.

"Already lost your money, Joly?" Bossuet asked of him.

Joly slumped down at the far end of the table. "You, you're Benoit's sister?"

"I am."

"Then I'll do my begging to you, for I have too much pride to beg of him," Joly said, roughly grabbing his mug of ale and tossing it back. He slammed it on the table. "Get my money back, I beg of you, Mam'selle!"

"You're pathetic, my friend," Courfeyrac said, then turned his attention back to Aurelie. "Tell us what brings you here?"

Enjolras was noticing how all his friends were smitten by this woman. It made him feel less guilt for his awestruck state, but there was something else there.

Envy.

The ugliest of them all was rearing its monstrous head. They had her attention while he did not, yet felt he could not command it.

"The horrible truth of it? Or the lie that offers sunshine and rainbows?"

"Sunshine and rainbows exist?" Joly scoffed.

Aurelie had to force herself not to look to her right at the man who embodied both. But she could aim her words.

"They do, and they are no lie," she answered Joly. "I find them here, but that is only after the horrible truth. What brings me here is the death of our father."

Enjolras recognized a window when he saw one, and took this opportunity to enter the light.

"He was prisoner," he said austerely. "Benoit said he had been arrested here for treason."

The mood had become intensely somber with what Aurelie had called her horrible truth.

"He fought for Napoleon until 1811," Aurelie said with a firm nod, stating this with detachment from her emotions. "He joined General Lamarque at the Revolution in The United States. It was on his return that he began to fight back behind closed doors and speak against the sovereign of King Charles the Tenth, and his title was stripped. The lands were confiscated when he died a month ago."

Enjolras felt his rage boiling. "Had he lived another month, he would have been freed," he said under his breath. "And how do you feel about Louis Philippe?"

Aurelie eyed him levelly, and without hesitation said, "Lamarque declined a seat, we voted in another king. The three days in July meant nothing."

"You believe this?" Enjolras asked in surprise. He had been proud of July, proud of the people who had fought for a fresh start, and Lamarque had supported Louis Philippe.

Many debates had taken place, her father and brother having always been political. She'd been a part of quite a few with them. This was the first she'd spoken freely out of the confines of her former residence, and it was only because of the god before her.

"I believe we now live under a con of democracy with the name Constitutional Monarchy. The result? A dictatorship."

Enjolras was stunned by this, eyes widening, jaw forward. "It cannot be a dictatorship when it was a duke who was voted in."

Aurelie simply shrugged. He'd made her point for her.

"And therein lies the con," she said.

"You've got to be kidding me," Courfeyrac breathed, shaking his head in disbelief. "Are you real?"

"I mean what I say, yes Monsieur," Aurelie replied strongly. Fear was there, but fear did not change what she believed to be a fact, and if she was thrown out of here for speaking it, she would have done her father proud.

"Indeed you do," Courfeyrac said with a firm nod. "That's not what I'm questioning." He shot his eyes around the table, everyone having focused entirely on what was taking place. And he grinned. "Are you a woman arguing with our Enjolras, or am I in a dream? Even we struggle with our resolves around him."

It's worth explaining the table. Not one man sitting at it had taken their attention away from Aurelie, and Enjolras had simply entered her plain. Most were taken with her, Bossuet wanting to bed her, Enjolras falling madly in love at her every word. Courfeyrac had been listening with his clever ears, gaping as this girl freely stated a political opinion. Aurelie, for the first time in her life, felt free here in her new life, and she had much to say, despite any repercussion.

"I must say, I've never heard a woman speak of politics," Combeferre said. "It's astounding."

"One second," Enjolras said contemplatively, holding his hand in the air so they'd stop speaking of her so he could speak to her. "We may have voted in a duke, but he was not the natural succession of a monarchy."

"No, that was the little Duke of Bordeaux," Aurelie agreed. She leaned forward, placing a delicate hand on the table between them. "It doesn't strike you as odd that the deposition of King Charles with a revolution ended up with another King? There was a vote, no? The people try to break free of succession and find themselves once more in a system that allows it."

"Yet you say the three days in July were for nothing?"

Aurelie shook her head. "They were for everything," she stated passionately. "Charles limited the people, and they fired back. But he was the cause of his demise; it was the people who secured it. But we are three weeks out of our chamber having made Louis Philippe King, and while I see smiles and cheers, another monarch is still a failure. Tell me this: do you believe General Lamarque would have allowed himself to be called 'King'?"

Enjolras leaned ever further; they were getting closer and closer to each other through the heated discussion. "Be that as it may, we are now a monarchy to the people, not the territory. This is a liberal man, a man of the people. A brother of General Lamarque transcending blood. A country puts a monarch in front of me and I will show you a broken territory, but a republic can spring from a king like ours. Here I present you with hope! His ascension to the throne alone held no pomp and circumstance. The money will spread to the people rather than sucked into vaults, a free education for the masses is around the corner! Voices will be heard through this man. You are disillusioned out of grief."

Eyes round and wide, Aurelie breathed through flared nostrils. "You dare to tell me what fans my flame?" she cried, though not in a screech of an angry woman. It was an oddity that she felt such rage and love at once, when she should have slapped his face.

Enjolras realized what he had said. It was nothing he wouldn't have said to any of his friends, but this exquisite woman should not have been spoken to like that. Interestingly, he had forgotten during their debate that she was a woman he had fallen in love with the second they'd met eyes.

Impossibly, this made him love her all the more.

"Mam'selle . . ." he began, but he didn't know how to apologize for himself; he'd never had to before. "The two are unrelated. You have every right to be disillusioned in response to what you've seen. We all are with a history such as ours, but this is a glimmer of light."

"A very small one," Aurelie conceded with a gentle smile. To accentuate this, she touched her thumb and forefinger together to indicate exactly how miniscule it was.

"I am agog," Bossuet said, slowly shaking his head and staring at the two, having been dumbstruck for the past few minutes as their argument heated up. It was a cockfight with the feathers of peacocks. "Mam'selle, you may be giving Apollo a run for his money."

It was ineffable to Enjolras how astounded he was by Aurelie, and each second, even while silent, he was loving her a little more.

It didn't take too long to find mutual ground to stand upon once they got speaking of the future, holding the very same ideals with passion, and those around them could do nothing but listen intently and gaze at the two, unable to remove their eyes from the magnificent display.

Hours later, adieu's were bid, and Aurelie looked over at Enjolras until the very last second before he disappeared from eyesight down the stairs. Her brother accompanied her, having won a few francs, and once upstairs, they climbed into their beds and slept.

What Enjolras didn't know then was that she had started his war.

The Ease of the Word Love When Felt Completely

The following morning, Aurelie rose early at the noise of her brother shuffling through the room. It was a wonder that the second she'd become conscious, she was wide awake, so she sat up on the mattress without a stretch.

"I'm off to the clinic," Benoit said to her, then leaned down and kissed her forehead. "Café for supper?" Aurelie nodded at him and smiled sweetly. "If you feel like visiting me, ask for directions to Depuytrin's."

"I may."

Throwing herself down on the mattress once he'd shut the door, Aurelie stretched in reverie under the light of the sun through the windowpane. A muscle had knotted overnight by the strange lumps in the mattress, but she did not care. She'd never been alive until last night. Upholding the standards of her family had often times left her lonely and idle; it took this place of survival to give her meaning. She did not want to recognize that it seemed it had also taken Enjolras to make her whole here.

Though with her brother at work, she had no idea what she could spend her time doing.

It was then that a thought struck her, and in short order, she had sat rigid on the mattress, staring at her trunk. Her wardrobe was not apropos; all designed and sewn for her body by a seamstress. She'd made good work of her dress last night, but the bright pink ruffles and yellow silks would not do, no matter how annihilated at her hands.

In no time, she was dressed and had her hair up in pins. Because she could not carry her trunks, she began throwing her dresses into a suitcase that belonged to her brother, stuffed so full she needed to plant herself atop just to clasp it shut. All she'd saved were her undergarments and travelling clothes, one crème dress should she need something suitable for a fancy occasion. The rest of her belongings books and hobbies.

It was no small feat to carry the case, but she was strong and lugged it out to the street, sweat building on her brow and chest. The sun was cruel on this July morning, and France was funny with weather changes; it had rained the day before. This created a steam of humidity. But determination ran deep.

"Save a life, mam'selle?" a man begged, coaxing his hand in urgent circles, beckoning her to a shoddy shelter. She could hear the cries of a newborn and quickly dodged over to the tent. Inside, a woman cradled a child, tears streaming down her face.

"Oh, heavens!" Aurelie cried.

"'tis cholera, mam'selle!" she cried. "The doctor won't help without his due. Please, mam'selle, I beg of you. Save my child!"

Aurelie dug in her purse and counted her coins. She was easily able to offer enough for all the doctors in France with what she had upstairs, but she managed enough with what her purse contained, which was quite a lot. But it mattered little; she had a new life and no longer wanted what money her family had left. She would earn her keep, possibly proving to Enjolras that she had strength enough to stand on her own in these wretched slums.

While heading to break his fast, Enjolras spotted Aurelie exiting the tent with Monsignor Jondrette and he let out a loud "Augh" of exasperation. His heart had skipped a beat, and that was why he craved her company. But she would need a hand held in these first few days as to not be taken in by the thieves.

It was, of course, his duty to hold her hand.

In this world of greys and browns, a red jacket stands out in a crowd. His necktie did not knot, just crossed once down his chest over a white shirt, a vest left unbuttoned and barely visible under his jacket.

A red jacket stands out in a crowd, but Aurelie had looked nowhere else. And he was walking her way.

"Mam'selle."

"Monsieur."

"I have bad news for you," Enjolras said.

"And that is?"

"You have just been taken."

"Taken?"

"Yes. They are the Jondrette's, formerly Thenardier. Had to change their name when their inn went bankrupt, though they were always tricksters. Beware of them, they will rob without the trickery."

Aurelie thought she could outwit anyone, and could, as had been proven last night. But she was not accustomed to cons, and she began to laugh.

"Rats!"

Enjolras widened his eyes with a laugh he'd never given. "I tell you you've lost your money, and you simply say Rats?"

Aurelie shrugged. "What can I do? It's clear they live an unhappy life despite the worldly possessions they steal. No coins I give them can buy my happiness."

It was curious, this girl. He was astounded by her.

"What's that you carry?"

Aurelie lifted her case a bit. "Some things to sell."

"You need the money then?"

"Not at all. Only to buy a new life."

"Let me escort you?"

"It's clear to me now I need it."

"I don't believe you do," Enjolras disagreed. "But I have my Saturday free and would like nothing more than to get to know you."

"Are we going to fight again?" Aurelie challenged teasingly.

Enjolras laughed. "I'll be on my best behavior."

"Then you can show me a consignment shoppe?"

"It's a walk. Let me carry this for you."

He took the case from her, brushing against her hand. Wondered if her skin would always affect him, and thought he must return to his determination.

Tomorrow.

On the way, Enjolras pointed out places she could find what she'd need while living here. They walked by the university and he told her of the classes he shared with her brother, which transitioned into his studies. But he found himself caring far more about her experiences than his own, so he asked questions of her.

At the shop, Aurelie took the case and set it upon the floor. Once opened, she turned to the shop keeper. "Take what you wish, anything else I'll give to those on the street. Know that you can make a profit from all before you turn anything away."

She was paid well for the entire contents, and Enjolras watched her beautiful clothes—clothes she was born to wear yet would not—handed over to the shopkeeper without a look of despair on her face. He did not know a woman who didn't crave finer things.

"Did you keep anything?" he asked her.

"What I wear on my back, for the most part," she returned, taking the francs from the shopkeeper.

Brushing the fine silks in the shop, Enjolras said, "And what will you buy?"

Coins in her purse, Aurelie gathered up the empty case. "Nothing here," she said. "Is there a marketplace?"

"Yes," he responded, then gestured outwardly with both hands. "It's called the street. Anywhere on all boulevards, someone is selling or stealing, most at the same time."

"Then let us refill this case before we return," Aurelie said.

Enjolras could not understand her, she was an enigma. Well born women he'd known around the University would parade their finest around him; copies of exactly what she'd just sold off. He was well aware of the effect he had on women his age, but his eye had never been caught and he had submitted himself to bachelorhood long ago. He instead lived for a republic and dedicated all his love to his studies.

At the blankets spread on the pavement; at the little stands and tables; Aurelie purchased the most muted clothing she could find without trying any on. She would hold one up, turn to him and ask if it suited her. His response every time was that no, it did not, and she'd toss a few sous to the salesman and load it up in the suitcase. He wanted to add that she would be lovely in potato sacks, but would not let those words leave his mouth. He did not want to give her any ideas that would leave her purchasing burlap from the café.

It was a perfect day. The warmth of the sun was Heaven's approval of Aurelie's love, and to spend this glorious day creating her new life with Enjolras at her side was meant to be. If something looked as though it would fit, Aurelie bought it and would tailor it in her room once alone.

Benoit was just returning from work when he saw Aurelie and Enjolras together, also arriving after a day out. Enjolras was carrying his suitcase, though obviously done for Aurelie. And he peered at them strangely, wondering exactly how this had come to be.

"Oh, Benoit!" Aurelie cried as she spotted her brother. With a glance at Enjolras, she ran toward Benoit and embraced him. "How was your day?"

Eying Enjolras as he grew closer, he said, "Was any other day," without looking at his sister, instead studying Enjolras and unable to pin exactly why. "And you?"

"She was taken," Enjolras said, having caught up. He set the suitcase down on the pavement, gazed down at Aurelie, endeared by her, before catching himself in this gaze and straightening it out.

"Taken?"

"By the Jondrette's."

"Oh, no . . ." Benoit groaned, thinking he should have expected it with Aurelie's kindness.

"I felt a duty in making sure the rest of her day went without incident," Enjolras explained. "I made sure to escort her to the places she asked for."

Benoit rolled his eyes, thanking God Enjolras had been there while he worked. While Aurelie would be the first to match words, she was in a new element here and had been ignorant to the ways of the streets. He thanked Enjolras with his eyes and a nod before turning and asking, "Aurelie, honestly! How much?"

"A few sous," she admitted. "I gave them enough for a doctor."

"So a few francs, you mean," Benoit said, then narrowed his eyes. "A Gold Napoleon?"

Aurelie straightened her back. "You and I fought over who had more of a right to reject our inheritance. I was the one who ended up stuck with it, so I don't believe you get to say what comes of it."

Enjolras' tightened his lips so the laughter would not burst from him.

"There's so little left anyway," Aurelie said. "I sent nearly everything to our cousin, and we both know that will run out in short order with their afflictions. You and I agree we don't want it. If you're so worried, I made more than I gave selling off my clothes."

"You sold your clothes?" Benoit demanded.

She shrugged. "I bought new ones."

"Perhaps you can enlighten me, my friend," Enjolras said, sliding his hands into his pockets in amusement. "Your sister sold off all her gowns this morning and refilled this case with smocks."

Benoit sighed, this time with love for his sister. He looked down at the dress she'd ruined last night, again taken with how perceptive she was.

"She wishes to fit in here," explained Benoit. "She's begged for years to come live with me so she could learn through my books instead of my letters. It was only that Pa died and the land transferred to another lord that she was able to."

"I was who forced him to decline the money," Aurelie said. "He was only going to take it so I could continue to live, purchase a new piece of land, but that was a lonely life."

"As I said, she wanted to be here. She's smart, Enjolras."

"I found that," Enjolras agreed.

A glance of mutual adoration was shared, though neither knew fully to what extent the other felt.

The wonder was in Benoit as he further examined Enjolras, looking for a sign. Coming up empty, as he always had while trying to understand the emotions behind the man, he shrugged. Benoit had drawn the attention of many girls, had flirted incessantly with them in return. He had seen how Enjolras seemed ignorant to the women in love with him, and this was not what he had witnessed before. They were lost in each other here.

"It seems today I don't have her attention," Benoit noted with the raise of a brow, confounded by what he was witnessing.

It was then that he caught it. The tiniest muscle twitch at the corner of Enjolras' mouth. It was the most Enjolras would ever give in regards to anything but politics and philosophy, but relaying this hint had given him away. Benoit didn't know what to think. Enjolras was steel; strong, honorable, intellectual, and a pillar everyone he knew leaned upon. The idea of anyone penetrating this was absurd, yet Aurelie had.

He wasn't sure why he was fearful over this, as he could see no man more worthy of his sister than Enjolras. They were equally steadfast and often times intolerable. Likely the perfect pair, possibly able to temper the other. That, or inflame. But he worried for Aurelie if she ended up entwined with Enjolras; what an Enjolras with a mistress would be like, and if his sister could handle his unyielding devotion to his many causes.

But Aurelie was stronger than Benoit in many ways. She had always been clever, more intelligent than he could dream to be. She was wise beyond her years and witty to boot. She understood people and accepted them for who they were, not who she wanted them to be. And for this, it was Enjolras who should beg for her.

"Perhaps you could take her to Saint Genevieve before supper?" Benoit suggested, his mind made up. It was not his decision to make on where to steer them, and perhaps once alone without the purpose of selling and buying, they could figure themselves out as well, since neither seemed to know what to do.

"Are you tired?" Enjolras asked his friend, not wanting to appear eager. "You could take her."

Benoit shook his head a few times as he grinned. "I believe Grantaire may need money for his wine tonight after what I took from him. I'll be off to find him for a deal."

Aurelie's heart raced, and she bid her brother farewell once her suitcase had been swept up by him. Told him she'd meet him at the Café in an hour. And then she was alone with Enjolras, save for the many who lived on the street.

Never in her life had she felt this way for any man, and she was not herself. Her girlfriends had swooned over her suitors while she found herself bored. In this state of love, she did not know herself.

Everyone they walked by seemed honored to be in his presence, or maybe that was just Aurelie assigning her own emotions on those they passed. But he nodded at those he walked by as they'd offer him a smile. It was nice to be out for a leisurely walk rather than aided in destinations, and their pace was slower than before. This was casual, and still her feet would not meet the pavement.

At the church grounds, she stared up at the spires in awe, marveling over how a man could create a structure such as this. Aurelie waited for him to explain the architecture, but when he didn't after a minute, she looked over at him to see his eyes on her rather than the cathedral.

"I have been loving you a little more since this morning," he said to her, bewildered and lost. It didn't even surprise him that he'd said this aloud, a testament to the overwhelming truth of it. It had been the first thing he'd said in the last minute as he'd looked upon her while she gazed at the heavens. And the first thing that had entered his head when she met his eyes.

Aurelie gently smiled, as though this had been expected. She did not feel abashed or embarrassed or frightened. Boys had sworn their love to her before, and one man in particular had been arranged in an agreement of marriage when she was younger. She had cared for none, only done her duty as a lady to remain cordial and proper.

This time was quite different. She felt as if this could go no other way than it had. Her heart danced over these words, but her head said that this was home.

"I believe I have, as well," she said without hesitation.

Enjolras imperceptibly shook his head. "It wasn't until I saw you that I thought myself capable of love," he said. "And now I know I have loved you since the day I was born."

She did not leave his eyes. This was no game, this was a proclamation. "You were felt when I arrived yesterday," she told him, tilting her head to the side in wonder. "As we drew close, I knew I was home. You were seen entering the café by me out my window: your red jacket and gold crown. But it was when you met my eyes that I understood why these things had been noted. Impossibly, I am very much in love with you, Monsieur, and I don't foresee a time when that is not so."

Glancing down with purpose only, Enjolras took her hand in his. "How can it have only been a day? Can we fall so in love so fast?"

"I don't believe we get a say in that at all," Aurelie told him. The hand that held hers held her heart, and from this moment on she would devote it wholly to him. "Honestly, if we had any say I would have slapped your face last night."

Enjolras laughed: knew this to be true, as were he able to control his love, he would have put a stop to it the second he'd found himself wanting. "I've never believed it until now, but you have made me a believer, Aurelie. And in only one day of knowing you, I can make the promise now without any doubt that I will love you until my last breath, and that breath will be taken with your name on my lips."

What Aurelie did not know as she replayed their first twenty-four hours was that right now, at the barricade, as she recalled every detail, Enjolras sat on the chair remembering the same, and each recollection occurred in sync with hers.

"I have been loving him a little more since this morning," she whispered to Marius, repeating the words Enjolras had spoken in front of the monastery. "Impossibly, I have loved him a little more every day since my eyes first rested in his."