Summer 1853

Central Caucasus

Erik

"Say Spasibo," I told Christine quietly.

She looked at me, her arms full of her new dresses. The Russian woman, looking very tired and worn, waited impatiently for us to leave her shop.

"It means thank you," I explained.

Christine nodded and looked back to the woman. "Spasibo," Christine said, the word thickly accented but intelligible.

The Russian smiled tiredly at Christine and nodded. While Christine turned away to converse with her husband, I quietly handed the woman more money. Although I would never admit it, I was grateful for the fact that she had accepted my impossible demands. Three dresses in less than two days…There was no doubt she had not slept, and the fact that there were five tired-looking younger girls leaving the shop gave inclination that she had used all of her resources. However, she took the money without comment and slipped it into a little purse tied to the waistband of her plain dress.

I turned to watch as Christine examined the new dresses appreciatively. Her husband gazed at her moodily, dark circles under his eyes. He had certainly declined in health and mood over the past few weeks. I knew why – and I didn't feel the least bit guilty about it.

"Are you going to show us the opera house now, Erik?" Christine asked excitedly, looking back toward me. "You promised yesterday that you would."

I nodded. I was interested in seeing the opera house as well. It was a shame that Paris did not have its own opera house. A city plagued by so much war and unrest still managed to erect a particularly fine building devoted to a wonderful art. Paris should have been embarrassed and ashamed.

"Perhaps there will be a performance this evening," Christine sighed wistfully. "Wouldn't it be wonderful if we attended? Raoul? Don't you agree?"

He merely nodded somewhat unconvincingly.

I swept around the couple and reached for the door, my eyes flicking outside the tiny, cramped window. Immediately, I stopped and whirled around.

"Lie down now!" I hissed quietly.

"What?" Christine said fearfully. "What is – ?"

"Do as I tell you!" I spat. "Now!"

Christine dragged her husband to the floor, looking at me fearfully. I looked to see the Russian woman watching us with pure confusion.

"Woman!" I barked in Russian. "On the floor! Immediately!"

She didn't obey at first, but I pulled out a knife, and she was on the hard, wooden floor as well, trembling against a bolt of heavy wool.

I looked back outside the window, creeping closer to look. What I had seen had chilled and angered me. Mirza Taqui Khan…leading a procession of Persian men through the streets, all looking angry and tired.

Nadir was with them…

I gave a bitter smile. The poor, foolish daroga.

But I couldn't dwell on my friend. My love was currently in danger, huddled in a second-rate shop on the floor, unaware as to why.

I turned around and watched the three on the floor, all staring at me with wide, frightened eyes – the women, anyway. Chagny was glaring. I held the knife out to him.

"Don't let the shopkeeper leave," I said. "I will return shortly."

Chagny didn't take the knife, so I tossed it to the ground beside him. "I'm warning you," I said lowly. "If she leaves, you will put us all in danger."

Without another word, I was out of the shop, stalking along the streets. Taqui Khan and his men had disappeared, but I knew better than to assume that they were gone.

How quickly the tables turned! It was quite sad, really. Taqui Khan had wanted me gone from the moment I set foot on Persian soil, and now he was chasing me across an entire continent. I almost felt humorously sorry for him, but I hated him too much.

I made it to the inn with no incident. Swiftly, I went to the room I had purchased, picked the lock (as Chagny had the key), and entered, looking around. Their small satchel was open at the foot of the bed, clothing and other things scattered around. I grabbed a handful and began stuffing everything back into the bag, working with an almost panicked frenzy. Of course I hadn't wanted to leave Christine alone with only her foolish husband to protect her, but it wasn't as if I could have counted upon him to return to the inn, pack their belongings, and come back unnoticed! I would simply have to rely on my speed to ensure Christine's safety. Quickly, everything was packed in the bag – admittedly haphazardly – and I scanned out the window before leaving.

There was no sign of Taqui Khan that I could see, but I made my way carefully outside, worried that he would somehow be at the inn, knowing I was there. No matter how much I paid, people would always talk if given the proper incentive. All one had to do was offer a few well-chosen threats, perhaps brandish a weapon, or offer an exorbitant amount of money. The secrets would come spilling. I should have known – I'd been on both ends before.

And so I couldn't trust the overly-pompous innkeeper's promise to remain silent. We had to leave Tiflis as soon as possible. A twinge of regret came, though: I never got to see the opera house.

Quickly, I gathered the horses from the stable at the inn and saddled them up. Oberon whinnied when I pulled a bit too tightly at a strap, and I stroked him absentmindedly, muttering an apology. The mare – whom Christine had christened Titania, much to my amusement and skepticism – waited patiently while I saddled it up. I said a few words to it in Persian, and they followed me out of the stables and into the crowded streets.

There was no possible way to hide now. Oberon was a huge horse, high-spirited and distrustful. I had to keep very close to him, occasionally feeling him nudge me in hopes of reassurance. I hated it, but I had to tie them up outside the shop, fearing that Oberon would go mad and attack a passerby that came a bit too close. The mare, though trusting of me, would follow anyone who pulled on its reins.

To my relief, all three were sitting in the exact same spots as when I had left. The shopkeeper was threading a rosary, muttering a prayer under her breath. The knife was untouched by Chagny's side.

"Come," I said simply. "We are leaving."

"Erik, what's happening?" Christine asked.

"Not now," I said. "Get up. We must leave immediately."

Chagny pulled her to her feet and left the shop. I saw them mount their mare from the window. Carefully, I stowed the knife away in its proper place. After seeing the Russian woman still on the floor, I took a small diamond from my concealed pocket and tossed it at her feet. That woman had gotten quite a small fortune from me! If she didn't close down her shop and live her days out comfortably, I would be most surprised.

"You would honor us with your silence," I said coldly. I left.

After swinging up onto Oberon, I led them out of the city, taking small, unused roads, glancing around anxiously, my eyes scanning faces, clothing, anything at all to alert me.

As soon as we were out of the city, I led Oberon into a gallop, hearing the mare behind me follow suit. We rode for a very long time, and I did not relent until I felt sweat glazing Oberon's flesh. I pulled him to a stop and led the small party over to a shaded area next to a stream, about a half of a mile away from the main highway.

Quickly, I leapt off of the horse and pulled the saddle from its back, along with the bridle and reins. Oberon walked a few paces away and dropped to his back, getting rid of the sensation of the saddle. He then wandered over to the stream and I, content that he was taken care of, turned to watch as Chagny helped Christine to the ground before tugging off the saddle from his own mare.

Christine came over to me as I took off my hat and sat down, my limbs groaning with pain.

"Will you tell us what happened?" she asked timidly. "We've waited hours for your answer."

I sighed and spread out my hands defenselessly. "We were nearly found," I said. "Mirza Taqui Khan and his men were in Tiflis."

"What do you mean?" she said. Her brow was furrowed in a most inquisitive way. It was charming.

I then remembered that Christine hadn't been told that I was to be followed. Chagny had promised that he wouldn't tell, and I certainly hadn't told her.

Chagny, finished with his task, came over to stand by Christine. I did not much like sitting while he was still standing, and so I stood up as well, feeling a bit better about my height advantage.

"How many men were there?" he asked.

"Twelve, I believe," I said. "Taqui Khan is leading them."

"They were in Tiflis?" Chagny questioned. "How could they have caught up to us so quickly?"

"They obviously have not had many…delays," I said, remembering all of the days we had wasted. "It is their unified goal to capture us, and they will not return to Persia until they do so."

"What – what do you mean?" Christine interrupted, looking from her husband and back to me with an expression of confusion. When I did not answer, she looked toward Chagny and touched his arm slightly. "Raoul?" she asked shakily. "What is he talking about?"

Chagny looked down to Christine and said calmly, "Erik killed the shah's mother. Now men are chasing him, and they will probably kill us if they find us."

My entire frame stiffened, and I looked toward Chagny with murderous hatred. He glanced at me and said bitterly,

"What? Surely you didn't think we didn't know! Christine, Erik has lied to you more than you know."

Christine's blue eyes were full of horror. I momentarily let myself be swayed by them, but I looked back to Chagny and instantly allowed my mind to fill with loathing and anger.

"Yes, it's true. I killed her," I said, my voice laced with deadly calm. "It was no sin. That woman was the devil incarnate, and the world is a better place without her."

"How could you, Erik?" Christine whispered, trembling. "How could you kill a poor, defenseless woman?"

I looked at her incredulously. Suddenly, I began to laugh. I laughed so hard that I doubled over, and my eyes filled with tears. I had not laughed like this in years, but it did not make me feel better. The laugh was humorless and twisted. I straightened with a gasping breath to find Christine still staring at me.

"If you actually understood what you were saying," I said breathlessly, "you would laugh as well." I was silent for a moment. "But perhaps I should help you understand, Madame…Yes, you should know."

"What are you saying?" Chagny demanded. "Don't you dare say anything to her!"

I ignored him and watched Christine, her lovely features tightened with worry and fear. I said softly, "That night…the night of the fantastical 'party' – the Persian ball – you fell ill. Do you remember?"

She nodded slightly.

"Well, I should inform you that it wasn't an accident, like your naïve little mind thought! There was foolishly-concealed poison in your drink. If I had arrived a minute later, you would have been dead! And do you want to know who ordered your execution? The same 'poor, defenseless woman' you so protect! If I hadn't killed her, she would have tried again! Again and again until you were dead! I saved your life by taking hers. You should be thanking me!"

I laughed again. Christine, with a small moan of horror, fell to the ground, burying her face in her hands. Chagny sat alongside her, wrapping his arms around her shaking frame. It ignited a new flame of jealousy, and I stalked away, disgusted by myself – disgusted by Christine and Chagny.

I stayed away for several hours, allowing time for my anger to simmer and then disappear. Although I admitted it grudgingly, I knew that, eventually, I would have had to tell Christine that I had murdered the khanum. It wasn't the way I had wanted, but she knew now…She knew more than I had ever wanted her to know. When they were returned to Paris, her lingering thoughts of me would consist of words like murderer, thief, liar, insane…A far cry from what I had wished mere months ago.

When I returned to the little area, I found something that twisted my stomach cruelly. Chagny was asleep, his head in Christine's lap, her small fingers stroking his hair absentmindedly as she gazed off with a dreamy look in her eye. Her other hand was resting on the small protrusion on her stomach. It certainly didn't take me long to guess what she was thinking of.

She looked up and smiled at me, though it was very forced and weak. I watched while her finger pressed itself to her rosy lips, and she motioned to Chagny.

"He's very tired," she whispered, brushing away some of his hair from his forehead. I had a brief moment of insanity in which I envisioned myself in Chagny's place, feeling Christine's fingers on my bare face, stroking the skin, her eyes gazing down at me with love. It was cruel – and it was beautiful.

For a moment, I held my breath, and then I said quietly, "Christine…That was not the way in which I wanted you to find out."

Her brow furrowed, and she gently twisted a lock of Chagny's hair between her fingers.

"Are you – are you even sorry about this?" she said, sounding as if she didn't want to know the answer.

"I am sorry that you are hurt by my actions," I said. "But I did what I thought was best. I did it to save your life."

She looked at me for a moment, as if trying to decide something, and I resisted the urge to squirm under her clear gaze. It was always so pure. She didn't judge or mock or criticize. She simply looked, as if trying to discover an answer.

"I am grateful for your concern about my wellbeing," she said. "But the way you go about it…That is a very hard thing to accept, Erik."

"I'm not asking you to," I said stiffly. "I will only tell you that you did not get a very accurate perspective on the Persian courts. I shielded you as best I could, and it obviously was more damaging than I originally thought. If you thought that we could have left Persia with the khanum alive, you are wrong. It was in the best interest for everyone."

She paled a little. "The end does not justify the means," she said, her voice shaking. "I would rather have her alive and you innocent."

"Yes, well, I much prefer you alive," I said snappishly. There was a deep silence, and I felt embarrassed.

"Erik, do you…" She hesitated and then continued. "Do you really think I would have been killed?"

"I do not think – I know," I said shortly.

"Why?" she asked. My heart skipped a beat and then began to pump furiously. "Why would she want to poison me?"

"Many reasons, mostly political," I lied. "It was no personal grudge against you." Oh, but it was. It was a very personal grudge. "You're too young to understand the complexities of politics. Just know that the khanum was an extremely powerful, corrupt figurehead in the court."

She shivered a little. "Well, I suppose that I should be glad that we left when we did, even if it was rather…hurried." As she raised her gaze to meet mine, she managed to brighten a little. "I shall be so glad to see France again! It will be so wonderful. Don't you think so?"

I made a noncommittal noise and said, "I do not think I'll be staying there long."

"Oh," she said. She looked a little disheartened and then said softly, "That is too bad. I should have liked to continue seeing you and visiting with you."

I caught words on my lips before they came bursting out. I was close to promising that I would stay in France if she wanted – I would stay beside her if only a whimsical wish. However, I (thankfully) controlled myself enough to realize that that was not something to say aloud. She continued, much to my tortured delight.

"I do hope you get to meet my son," she said, smiling a little. My mood fell instantly. "You have saved his life as well, and I think it would be wonderful if he knew you. Don't you agree?"

I was silent for a few moments. "We must leave," I said stiffly. "We've stayed here far too long."

Christine blinked, surprised at my sudden change, and said, "Oh – I hope I didn't offend you, Erik."

"Of course you didn't."

For a moment, she held my gaze, her eyes soft, and she said, "Thank you for everything you've done." She then bent over to press her undoubtedly soft lips against Chagny's cheek. "Raoul," she said gently. "Raoul, wake up." Again, her lips fell on his skin.

I couldn't bear it anymore, and so I turned away, closing my eyes tightly. I never knew my jealousy could increase, but every day I saw them together it did. Soon, I realized, I would become quite dangerous. I could only hope that the French borders were soon.