Thank you everyone for reading along!

Enjoy!

Christine

Chapter 31

The Letter

I was exhausted.

I didn't wake up once in the night - I was like a newborn babe, undisturbed and content. Erik, all through the ride home, had been in a silent state of euphoria. I don't think he noticed my father's discomfort, or he surely would have been taken down from his emotional flight. I didn't say a word about it, and neither did my father, for Erik's sake. He'd just been reunited with his brother. A thief - a master one, apparently - he was nonetheless important to Erik.

To his credit, Vincenzo did, in fact, notice his unease. He had addressed it, toward the end of the meeting within the tavern.

His eyes had sparkled in the lamplight, the glow reflecting in his brown, nearly black irises. The emotion there had been strong enough to make me believe that those eyes were the source of the light, that he was lit from within. "I didn't want to be a thief when I came to Paris."

We waited for him to continue.

"I hadn't wanted to be a thief in Venice, either - but it was pushed upon me by Giovanni. Just as it was pushed upon you." He nodded to Erik. "Oh, we didn't hate it, did we? But it hadn't been my first choice. When I was a child, I'd dreamed of being a doctor; not that it would have been a true possibility, given my..." He gestured to his face, to his skin. His ethnicity. "But then my people, my clan, were killed. My mother died. And I became one of the volpi. Worse things could have happened to me.

"When I arrived in Paris, I tried to find honest work. I tried for physical labor, for factory work...anything I could find." He smiled ruefully. "No one would hire me. They didn't want to hire a gypsy." He said the last word with pointed disgust. "So, what? Was I supposed to starve? Just so that I could avoid being labeled a 'thieving gypsy', as I was labeled in Venice? I value my life more than I value the opinion of a gadjo."

He spat that last word too.

"If a gadjo, a white man, becomes a thief, they say he is merely a bad one of the bunch. If any of my people do the same, they say that it is to be expected. Tell me how this is fair? Tell me." A pause. "You can't. Because you know it is not. So no, I will not play by every single one of their rules if it means a single slip-up causes distrust, if it means that I will be feared and looked down upon and die in the street even if I abide by every social and national law. No, I will become what they say I am, and they will see just how much their hatred hurts them. They will see the pain they caused handed right back to them on a stolen silver platter."

I had ended the night liking Vincenzo more than I thought I would. I'd been a nervous wreck at first, yes, but now, I wanted to get to know him as Erik's brother.

I'd told Erik this upon closing the door to our bedroom.

In response, his mouth was upon mine in seconds, his touch hot and yearning. He'd then joined his body with mine for the second time this week. We'd cuddled and kissed for the moments after, between wakefulness and sleep. We'd drifted in each other's arms. And not a single nightmare to be found the entire night.

That coupling, along with the events of the evening, had left me drained of energy, and I ended up sleeping until nearly noon.

I awoke to find Erik gone, his side of the bed lit by morning light but cold to the touch, pristinely made. He'd been gone for a while.

I shifted to sit, and at the movement, I heard a soft meow, then watched as the cream-and-black colored face of Ayesha appeared before me, having hopped from somewhere beneath the bed. She sat by my legs and blinked her ice-blue eyes slowly, purring. I reached out a hand to pet her behind the ears, and she leaned into the touch. Her diamond collar swung very lightly at her neck.

"Where is your Papa, Ayesha?" I asked her softly.

She licked my fingers and purred even louder, as if to say, "Forget him; you're awake now to stroke me. Don't you dare stop."

I did stop.

I moved my hand away and turned to get up. Her paw swiped at my wrist in protest, but I dodged it expertly, ignoring her. I was too tired still to change - I was presently naked and didn't want to put on clothes yet - so I'd see Erik and my father later when I was more awake. For now, I would spend my time drawing.

I'd draw Vincenzo and Erik embracing in the Cat's Eye Tavern. I'd draw the look of love and relief and disbelief in my husband's eyes.

When I approached my drawing desk, however, I saw a letter there with my name on it, in Erik's lovely, curving handwriting.

I opened it.

My darling-

You are the first and last face that I see every day, and for that, I am beyond grateful. I love you with my entire heart, mind, body, and soul - and I hope that you feel that love every moment of every day.

I kissed you this morning, but you didn't awaken. I couldn't when your face was so peaceful and lovely. You are my angel. You give me love and support and patience, even when I surely don't deserve it. You are ethereal, a thing sent by the heavens. I worship you, Christine.

By the time you do wake, I will not be home - unless you sleep the entire day, for which I am sure you deserve your rest. I have gone to meet with Franklin to discuss finalized plans for my second performance tomorrow night, then will meet with Vincenzo briefly. I should be home by dinner.

P.S.

Something Vincenzo mentioned last night has stuck with me. When he embraced me that last time, outside the carriage, he whispered in my ear: "My soul has been with you every day and night, for every second."

You said you'd seen him in the chamber. I still believe this was an effect of the heat.

But hearing him say that gives me pause.

Please be patient with me - it wasn't until I met you that I began believing in miracles. I need to get used to expecting and trusting in the impossible.

- Your doting, slavishly in love husband (and your absolute most favorite person in the world)

Erik