Chapter 11

Present Day

All at once, her bones felt hollow and filled to the brim. Emptied of their marrow. Replaced with dull, leaden aches.

Or was it her veins, knotted as wires and parsimoniously spitting blood where it should have flowed freely?

Or was it her lungs?

Her stomach and liver?

Or was she just outrageously bored?

Chiara spent most days in silk dressing gowns, ghosting about the mansion in a constant state of wait. One more hour until he came home. One more day. One more week. Counting, counting, counting down the minutes that made up her very small life of waiting, waiting, waiting for Illumi.

In the mornings, at the dressing table, Amane would brush her hair while she picked through breakfast – cherries from heavy silver bowls, croissants on heavy porcelain plates. Medicines with her tea, never with coffee. (Coffee wasn't allowed. Kikyo had gotten it into her mind that caffeine stunted the chance of pregnancy.) Afterwards, without bothering to get dressed, Chiara would go inside. Sit in the forest. Pluck at the grass. Sometimes, if Mike came sniffing, she'd throw a ball for him or would scratch behind his ears, entertained by the wag of his matted tail and the meek whimpers that escaped him.

Illumi insisted Chiara only play with Mike if a butler or another family member was around – He's a guard dog, he always said, not a lapdog. You could get hurt.

Most afternoons, she would have dancing lessons with Kalluto. She'd teach him certain movements, small sections of choreography, and then would let him move around as he pleased while she played the shamisen. It was the only instrument the Zoldycks had in the mansion. Illumi had promised they'd get more: a harp, like the one Tadashi had always played; a violin, like Datari's.

Lunch – too many greens, too much meat, Chiara pushing it all around her plate in bland hungerlessness. The butlers would prompt her to eat, like adults would a child. Open wide, Chiara-sama, one more big mouthful. They'd be the ones to get in trouble if she didn't put on weight – worse still, if she lost more. She didn't think she particularly cared. Then there would be more medicine – she had stopped asking what sorts. She didn't particularly care.

After lunch, more wandering. Up and down the corridors in search of Silva or Zeno or Kalluto, knowing they'd be nowhere to be found at this hour. She'd go back to the bedroom. She'd gorge herself on boxes of expensive chocolates until she was too sick to keep it all down.

She'd vomit, and would dread Kikyo's finding out.

She'd lie on top of the bedsheets, surrounded by the gifts Illumi sent and brought from wherever in the world he went.

Hoping hopelessly to catch some whiff of him, she'd hold his pillow to her face.

Wanting to feel something, she'd fumble her fingers between her legs and feel nothing.

Nothing besides angry and lonely – angry that Illumi could leave her behind, forget about her after years of promising they'd be together always. Lonely without him. Guilty, too – because even when he was gone, he still took such good care of her. Loved her. And who was she to ask for more?

There'd be dinner, where she'd sit as close to Silva as she could get and as far away from Milluki as possible, and would do her best to speak more than she ate – they couldn't watch the contents of her plate, her chewing, her swallowing if her mouth was already occupied. Though nowadays, if Kikyo could help it, the conversation always turned to babies. And babies always turned to pregnancy. And pregnancy always turned to Chiara's weight and Chiara's health and Chiara's glaring inadequacy as a Zoldyck wife.

"You'll never be able to be of any use to us like this," Kikyo would say. "You really should eat something, my sweetest Chi-Chi."

"Or don't you appreciate what you're given?" Milluki would add.

And Chiara didn't bother saying anything for herself, so it was always – always – Silva who stopped them.

Insatiable as he was though, Milluki would catch her in hallways. Would corner her and poke his stubby fingers at her and would glare in a way that made Chiara feel filthy. "Maybe this is why Illu-nii is gone so much more, nowadays," he would say, sneering. "You're so haggard, it's disgusting. I bet he can't even stand to look at you like this, let alone touch you." Close enough for the smell of sweat to burn Chiara's nostrils. For her to see the oily, bulging texture of Milluki's skin. "That's right. He probably hasn't fucked you in months."

In the mirror, there were half-moons of black-purple beneath her eyes.

The smell of sickness.

Spiking hipbones that couldn't possibly give Illumi children.

Chiara believed Milluki when he said Illumi was probably disgusted by her. Disappointed with her.

Like she was a tattered, tired doll – too frail to be a mother, too drained to do anything about it, too useless to be a real Zoldyck. She was disgusted and disappointed herself. Yet, the family kept her. Illumi always came home eventually. And when he did, the happiness of it – the sheer relief – was almost painful. A shard of sunlight through Chiara's heart. An ecstasy piercing itself through the walls of her skull. It only made her want him more. The longer she waited, the less she felt she could wait any longer.

Night after night, when Tsubone returned to prepare her for bed, Chiara would ask, "Has anyone heard from him? Does anyone know when he'll be back?"

Always a little more desperate than she wanted to seem.

Tonight, brushing and untangling Chiara's hair as she always did, Tsubone said, "He has already dispatched his target, Chiara-sama. However, he has indicated that he has some other business at Heaven's Arena to attend to before coming home. He should be arriving there in the next few days."

"Heaven's Arena?"

"It hosts competitions for martial artists."

"No. I know what it is. But why is Illumi there? He's not participating is he? That would be silly. Nobody there would stand a chance."

"He received information that Killua-sama is partaking in the competition."

"Oh."

Tsubone frowned into the mirror. "He sends his love."

Would he know if she sent all her love in return? Would he be able to tell how much she wanted him to come back? Would it matter? Reflection waxy as a corpse and small as a child, Chiara smiled at Tsubone. "Heaven's Arena isn't so far away, correct?" she asked. "It's only a day or so by airship, maybe. Right?"

"Yes. That is correct, Chiara-sama."

"I see. Just on the other side of the continent. He's so close." Chiara lowered her gaze, blinked at herself in the mirror. Her face: tired, bored, useless. Wanting and waiting for her husband with the same bleak yearning as a beggar who'd been given bones. So close. Illumi was so close. At the thought, Chiara felt her smile twitch uncertainly – a little excitedly. She stood from the dressing table. "Please pass me my gown, Tsubone. I need to speak to Grandfather."

"Perhaps it would be best for you to wait until tomorrow morning, Chiara-sama?"

"No. Now. My gown, please."

Some nights, before bed, Chiara would have coffee with Zeno (their secret) and they would play chess or checkers or go. Of everyone in the family, he allowed her to get away with the most. He didn't ever ask about babies. He didn't bother her about her weight and her medicines and her doctor's orders. He gave her chocolates and told her interesting stories about his assassin work. Much as Chiara tried not to bother him, she relished her few hours a week with Zeno – really, it was perhaps the only time she wasn't inundated with painful, intrusive thoughts of Illumi.

Illumi, Illumi, Illumi!

She scurried across the mansion to Zeno's room, holding her breath and concealing her presence for fear of running into Kikyo or Milluki – to see them now, to listen to their onslaughts, would shatter the thin determination that drove her forward. Not good enough. He probably hasn't fucked you in months. Not good enough. Prove that you deserve to be a Zoldyck. She didn't know if she could prove that. But at least, being with Illumi refreshed her resolve to try harder. She would eat. She would get stronger. She'd be of use if she could just see Illumi. Maybe then, if she got a little better, a little less haggard, he'd want to see her too. Wouldn't send his love through the butlers while paying all his attention to Killua. Stupid, ungrateful, undeserving Killua.

Two knocks on Zeno's door. He told her to come in.

"Chiara," Zeno said, perched at his desk and twisting to face her. "I wasn't expecting you."

"Yes, I know. I'm sorry, Grandfather. Do you have just a second?"

"What is it?"

"I need to go to Heaven's Arena."

"Huh?" He raised an eyebrow at her and stood, came close. Bare feet tapping on the floor. Hands behind his back. "For what reason?"

"Illumi's there. I want to see him."

"Tired of waiting, then?"

Chiara smiled. "A little."

"Silva was supposed to arrange for you to join Illumi on one his jobs, no?"

"Yes, but…" feeling her mouth twist unhappily, she shrugged, "I don't think anything's come of that. Illumi would never allow it."

With the slightest sliver of a smirk, Zeno chuckled. "Then why did you bother asking in the first place?"

"Wanted to see what Illumi would do. But now I want to go for real ~ a butler can come with me. I'll go straight to Heaven's Arena and–"

"And you've come to me, because you know nobody can tell you no if I say yes?"

Chiara smiled again, and nodded with a sneaking delight.

Zeno sighed. "You only just got over your most recent attack," he said, a little apologetically. "And though you've recovered adequately, your health is a precarious thing. Your husband will be quite furious with me if I let you go. Your mother-in-law too – she's probably listening in on this conversation as we speak."

"But it's not far, Grandfather," Chiara said. "And you've said yourself it would be good if I could get out. I'm so bored nowadays…" she regretted the way her voice quavered like a child's, half-playful and half-sullen. She touched a fingertip to her temple thoughtfully. "It'll only be for a few days. Even hours, if need be. Quick, quick! And as I said, I can bring a butler along. Maybe even Tsubone or Gotoh, if you can spare one of them. Or both! I can take both! That'll give Lumi even less reason to complain. And if I can go, then I'll–"

Dismissive – or conceding – Zeno waved his hand. "Go ahead, Granddaughter. Do what you will."

"Huh?" Chiara blinked in surprise. "So easy?"

"As long as you take Canary and Amane with you."

"Why them?"

"Because I say so. Call it a girl's trip. You did those sorts of things with your mothers and sister, didn't you?"

Chiara tried very hard not to think of Mommy and Mamma and Datari. "Not too often."

"Ah. Well, anyway – when did you plan on leaving?"

"Right now. I asked Tsubone to pack my bags."

Zeno smirked again, shook his head. "My, my. You haven't thought this through as much as I thought you would have. Illumi's only supposed to be arriving at Heaven's Arena in the next few days." He raised his eyebrow sharply. "What will you do if you arrive before him?"

Chiara hummed. "Ah!" she raised a finger to show her deliberation. "I'll go shopping! That's what you do on girl's trips, isn't it? For clothing and shoes and things."

A smile. A knowing, throaty laugh. "Excellent," Zeno said. "You may take my card, for the event of emergency shopping. I will give it to Amane and have her prepare a car. Understand though, you will have to deal with the backlash. I won't have anything more to do with it."

"That's fine!" Chiara spun away and was about to rush back to the bedroom. Then she stopped. Turned back to whisper, "Besides Illumi, you're my favourite Zoldyck, Grandfather. Just by the way."

She didn't wait for his reply.