Chapter Three: Dolore

"Bella!"

Arabella turned from the stew she was stirring outside the tsera and hurried in to find her grandmother lying at a complete angle across the double-wide cot Erik had left behind when he left to find himself. Tsifia's hair was much more gray and white than it had been back then. More lines were etched deeply into her face, and just now it was twisted in agony and her skin was soaked in sweat. Bella had never seen anyone age so quickly. Only a few years ago, Tsifia could practically have passed for Arabella's mother.

"What are you doing, bunica?" Arabella demanded. "You shouldn't be getting up."

"I have work to do!" Tsifia announced. "Get me my dicklo. And my gray dress with the yellow embroidery."

"Bunica, you aren't well enough to work." Bella stated soothingly, trying to straighten out her grandmothers' body so it lie straight on only one half of the cot. Bella had been sharing the bed with her grandmother for a long time. "Please, just lie back down nicely. I'll get you something for the pain."

For over a year, Tsifia had been suffering strange moods and memory problems, intensifying headaches and sudden loss of bodily functions. It had started slowly, but it did not take long to figure out there was something terribly wrong with her grandmother. It was a terrifying thing to watch, not knowing exactly what was wrong with her. As of late, Tsifia could barely leave the cot to take care of her body's needs when she was lucid … and she was barely ever really lucid. Even times when she might have been able to think straight were marred by the enormous amounts of pain her head was constantly in. No concoction Bella or anyone else could come up with eased it by much; and they couldn't afford a doctor. Most doctors wouldn't even come to help a gypsy...

"I want whiskey!" her grandmother demanded.

Tsifia had never drunk much alcohol before that Arabella knew of. This was an almost entirely new request.

"I'll see what I can manage." she promised. "Close your eyes, Bunica. Get some rest."

She stroked Tsifia's hair out of her sweaty face until the old woman's eyes dropped shut in exhaustion. Then she stood up, knowing her grandmother would not be out long. The continuous low moans of agony were a recognized signal of that.

Arabella had long since gotten rid of the tsera that she and Erik had shared in the beginning of their marriage. After about fourteen months of living on her own, another couple from the tribe had finally given birth to their first child, and Arabella had gifted them the small abode in order to help the girl escape her overbearing mother-in-law.

That was one of the things Arabella had been trying to explain to Erik the night before he left. In her culture, a married gypsy couple always lived with the groom's parents for roughly the first year. Until they bore their first child, they were never considered officially husband and wife. She was sure that such a consideration was dropped after a long time of simply being unable to bare a healthy child – as Tsifia and her husband had once suffered such a fate before the birth of their only daughter. But … Bella and Erik had been married for mere weeks. Not even really months.

She hadn't been trying to insult his gaje background at all. But she'd seen he was already too upset to try and speak sensibly to him.

Giving away the tent had also also saved the new parents money, since a tsera was no cheap thing, and the tribe had fallen on harder times since Erik's departure. It helped Bella feel helpful in a community where her role had grown increasingly tenuous, even as she finally realized it was possible to be more-or-less embraced by her tribe. She danced sometimes, but it felt as if that part of her life were well over and done with.

It had ended almost entirely on the day her husband had walked away to find himself. Dancing to her own tambourine, castanets, or even the music of another tribe member … just wasn't the same. The joy, the muse, was gone.

Finding herself had been a cruel joke. As a gypsy she had grown up in a secretive and practically isolated community, raised by a father who kept her as far from their practices and love as possible. Only once her father had been banished had she really understood it was his fault that she was not raised by the tribe as a whole. His fault that she was not embraced. By the time she'd come to this realization, though, she had already conceived a bastard of incest, married a gaje mullo, and even been abandoned by him. It did not encourage a good reputation. It was just funny how her greatest reason for feeling ostracized all her youth – her half-breed status – had absolutely nothing to do with the reasons her tribe looked down on her.

No one was outright cruel. But some people snubbed her. They did not help her as easily as they would help others. Even though Anton would speak to her of moving on and finding another tribe in the East so that she might find another husband, she would have been looked down on even more for doing that. For breaking the vows that seemed to have been broken on her. She also would have been sneered at for abandoning her own tribe.

There was no room for growth and discovering who you really were when nothing in your life greatly changed. Instead of dancing, she started taking over her grandmothers' work. She made salves and poultices, elixirs and protective necklaces. Some of them were very real curatives, but most of them were only as real as a handful of slivers from The Cross sold in nearly every large city by greedy prophesying zealots.

She also read palms, tarot cards, and tea leaves. This was just as false as many items she sold; but sometimes she thought she was genuinely channeling a power her grandmother had always insisted she was born with. It didn't feel so devious when she spoke purely on intuition and could read the hands, clothes, and body language of those she took as customers.

When she wasn't running that small business, she took care of tribe children. Once her grandmother needed round-the-clock care, the only way Bella could survive and earn any kind of community food or money was to watch the toddlers and infants of her neighbors while they went out and did the hard work for the day. It could be trying, dealing with sometimes five or six little ones while also trying to care for her grandmother. But even the smallest of the toddlers dearly loved Tsifia and were often willing to help in what little ways they could. It lightened the burden, unless the children were ill as well. That happened often enough, considering how even benign contagions spread through playmates.

The only chance she'd had for any kind of change was the previous summer; when another Romany from another tribe - one hers had encountered at the meeting grounds - began to pay attention to her. He was a knife thrower in a much larger group that managed itself as a circus, and he seemed taken by her at once. He was older, rough, good-looking, and massively charming.

Dangerously so. Bella had been drawn in by him in spite of herself, but she'd never forgotten that she was a married woman who loved her husband very much in spite of his absence. She allowed a little playful flirtation with the man, and he'd taught her how to properly wield a blade; even how to throw one. But because she had not been terribly interested in doing anything further with him, he'd easily said goodbye to her when the time came and never looked back. It had been the verge of a scandal, but because all of Arabella's interactions with the man had been entirely public, no one had a reason to start real rumors.

It had been incredibly difficult to let herself be drawn to him at all. The knife thrower – who's name had been Gustave – had reminded Arabella a great deal of Adnah. How Adnah had liked to chase gaje skirts around, no doubt leaving bastards all over the European countryside. It hadn't been so offensive with Gustave, but she had still been on edge in spite of his appeal. She'd also convinced herself early on that although she might enjoy their flirtations, he probably had no interest in anything other than bedding her. Everything he did with her felt like a slow but inexorable seduction doomed to leave her ruined and again alone. Even if that wasn't true, and Gustave had wanted to genuinely marry her due to real affection … she couldn't get beyond the thought that he was just looking to use her. That he couldn't really want her.

Arabella stepped only a few feet away from the tsera, looking around anxiously for a neighbor who she might ask to fetch her some strong alcohol to knock out some of Tsifia's pain. Luckily for her, Anton was passing by and saw her frantic eyes.

"How is she?" he asked, changing his course towards the main bonfires of the night and walking in her direction instead.

"Not good." Bella cleared the horrid lump that never seemed to entirely leave her throat as of late. "She's asking for whiskey."

Anton sighed, shaking his head.

"I'll see what I can find." he promised. "I wish we could afford some medicine."

"From the doctor in this village?" Bella scoffed, referring to the nearest community where they had set up this time. "He'd quite literally charge you a leg. Probably even a life – or several."

They had found out very quickly that the village they'd chosen to temporarily settle near was very hostile towards gypsies. They'd been forced to move further and further away twice to protect the community, although no one had chased them off completely. The village was small enough where the apparent boredom made them just curious enough about a gypsy fair to allow their proximity for a week or two. But Tsifia was getting worse, and Bella did not think that they could move on with her in her condition. No matter how the tribe as a whole felt about Arabella, they would never leave Tsifia behind to die. They loved and respected her far too much. She had damn well earned their deference in her long life.

Bella was turning back to the tsera when movement caught her eye over to the far left of the encampment. It was where the tribe had put their horses to graze, close to a very visible river where they could have all the water they wanted. An adolescent boy named Lash had been given the duty of keeping watch out for any intruders in the camp for a few hours in the evenings. He would be replaced later with either another adolescent who could climb in the trees like him, or one of the smaller men. This had become a practice sixth months prior, when six gaje had sneaked into camp in the middle of the night to cause trouble. The law, of course, had been on the side of the boys, in spite of their attempt to drag a gypsy woman from her tsera to rape her. If the boys had not been so drunk, they might have even succeeded. As it was, the community had been awakened by their noise and the cries of the poor girl, and they'd been beaten quite badly as they were chased off. The tribe was extremely lucky that the lawmen who took the boys complaints had chalked it up to an even score where no one would be punished for any of their illegal actions.

"There's a man!" Lash cried out, even as Bella realized there was an odd shadow moving towards all the horses. "There's a man coming!"

"He's going for the horses!" another nearby man noted, running towards the intruding figure. He was followed swiftly but distantly by a handful of other men with knives and sticks in their hands.

Bella's hand went to her throat before the men even reached the shadow, because whoever was entering their camp had stepped into moonlight, and she couldn't see a speck of skin. The form was entirely black from head to toe, making him impossible to make out. But he was practically flanked by two docile horses following close behind without so much as a lead to guide them.

A man with two horses that were tame enough to follow him without guidance. Any man who owned two horses in their tribe was considered a very wealthy man. Bella did not suspect this could be an invasion of any kind, or else why wouldn't the man be approaching with two horses of his own?

Anton appeared from deeper in camp, holding a cask of cheap wine out to her as his eyes focused on the scene unfolding near the river. His muscles were bunched, and he was ready to run off to help the others if need be. As it was, he ought to be there to manage the situation. But his eyes were better in the dark than Bella's, and whatever he saw seemed to trouble him more than it outright alarmed him.

"Thank you." Bella managed, taking the small barrel in one arm and turning back to the tsera. She had other things to worry about beside a man with two horses walking calmly and confidently into their camp. He had not been sneaking by any means. And there were already a dozen men standing in his way. Whoever he was, Bella did not care. She needed to start giving her grandmother enough wine to knock her out for the evening.

"Bella, wait." Anton said a little sharply, and she looked at him with startled, raised eyebrows. He was still looking at the crowd near the river. "It looks like a man in a mask."

Arabella nearly dropped the wine, she whirled so fast to stare at the man with two horses. It was difficult to see him now that he was surrounded so thoroughly by worried gypsies on their guard. But no one was yelling. Not really yelling, at least. Some voices sounded upset and irritated, angry even. But none sounded as if a fight were about to break out.

"Erik?" she gasped, a hand going to her chest. She strained her neck and raised onto her toes as if this would help her see any better.

Anton was quiet a long moment, then nodded sharply with a grunt of displeasure.

"Walks away for three years then just waltzes back here like its' his God-given right." he muttered. "You think those horses are for us? Or does he actually think they're going to win him status with us after what he did?"

"He didn't do anything." Bella protested, but weakly. She had been losing this battle of technicalities for over a year and a half. She didn't even really believe it herself anymore. "He just wanted to find himself. He said he would come back, didn't he? I told you he did."

"Expect it to take three years?" Anton demanded, looking at her crossly. "We aren't deaf here, Bella. We've heard you cry yourself to sleep."

Bella felt heat suffuse her face. No one had ever been so blatant with her before. They'd been worse in many ways … but not so upfront. Most preferred to color Erik as the freakish mullo who'd swept through their camp like a raging demon and left poor Bella as his ruined victim. In spite of the whispers about her babies' true parentage – for people in the tribe were smart enough to put together her condition with the earlier banishment of her father – some people still chose to believe it had been Erik that had seduced Bella and impregnated her with a child from Hell so inhuman that it hadn't been able to survive the womb. Never mind her nearly suicidal attempt at abortion. They always blamed Erik. It was easier than admitting something else had been going on feet away from them for a long time without their knowledge... or at least without their acknowledgment.

Anton was the first person to acknowledge that she'd been in pain for three years, and it had nothing to do with crimes committed against her before her wedding.

"Are you going to let him back in?" he asked.

Bella could not speak. A litany of explanations and excuses filled her mind, but the lump in her throat blocked all the words from coming out.

Erik was back! He had promised he would come back, and here he was. More than two years later than she'd expected him, but back all the same. He'd found them in spite of the years of travel, just as he had promised. And what would he say? Would he tell her he'd figured out who he was, and who he was did not include a silly gypsy girl as part of his life? Would he tell her how much he had missed her all this time, and take her into his arms and beg for forgiveness for taking so long to figure it out?

Surely he had his answers by now...

Anton sighed, rubbing his face with one rough hand.

"Yeah … you are." he laughed bitterly. "You are too good for the likes of him, Arabella Lyberia-"

"-Don't call me that!" she snapped, flinching at the surname of her father. "My name is Sauveterre. I chose it. For myself and my husband. I'll never hear the name Lyberia again!"

The crowd was just breaking apart by the horses when she turned and stalked into her tsera. Tsifia was moaning loudly again by that point, and again trying to get up out of bed. She'd made it up onto one elbow with one foot hanging over the edge of the mattress. She was over-balancing, and looked about to spill onto the ground head-first. Bella dropped the cask of alcohol to the floor of the tent and rushed to her grandmothers' side. For a moment, Erik's return was almost entirely forgotten.

"What is it, bunica?" she asked. "I have wine now. I'll get it for you. Just... stay in bed. Please!"

"Help me sit up." Tsifia groaned. "My back is killing me almost as much as my head. Help me sit up."

"Yes, all right." Bella agreed. "But in bed."

She was struggling with her grandmothers' clumsy weight when Tsifia suddenly screamed, making Bella flinch from the sound and turn towards the tent flap with her hand automatically at her hip. Resting there was a knife Gustave had given her before their tribes had parted ways, and she was quite good at unsheathing it in a hurry when she felt in danger. So far, though, it had yet to be put to any further tests of skill.

But her blade never left it's resting place. Her hand grew still and almost limp as she saw the tall black-clad figure hesitantly standing half in and half out of the tsera. Erik was entirely in black, including thick fine leather gloves, wide-brimmed black hat, and even a cotton black mask. It was no wonder she had not been able to see him even in moonlight. But his eyes – beautiful and golden as ever – were clearly visible to her even in the dim light of her grandmothers' tent. He had frozen at Tsifia's scream, and looked so uncertainly at Bella's face when she turned to him that it broke her heart.

Then she realized that because she had reached for a knife Erik had also touched a knife at his own hip. He had been prepared to defend himself … from her. It made her blood run cold.

"It's all right, bunica."

Bella took in a slow, deep breath and turned back to Tsifia, reaching out to pet her hair gently.

"Shhh … it's all right, darling." She spoke just as she would to a fussy toddler. "It's all right. That's Erik. Remember Erik?"

She glanced briefly over her shoulder to see Erik taking one small, hesitant step inside the tent. The flap fell shut behind him, and he rose to an astounding height of over six feet. He was so tall now. So very tall...

"Ma belle..." he greeted, making her stomach clench.

She had forgotten how beautiful his voice was! Now it had a deeper, more steady timbre. To think he must have been going through so many embarrassing bodily changes last time they'd met. Now he was absolute master of a rich voice that leant somewhat more towards baritone than counter-tenor. Even just two words sounded like an aria. A lullaby.

"Come in, Erik." she managed through lips that had gone numb. "Do you see that cask? Please pour my grandmother a large drink. She needs it for the pain."

Erik was beside her almost instantly, and she flinched so violently that he leaned away from her without seeming to even realize it. He was looking worriedly down at Tsifia. The old woman was staring back at him with enormous, fear-filled eyes that fought to recognize him but clearly did not.

"What pain?" he asked intently. "What can I do to help? Can I get her medicine? I have money."

Bella shook her head.

"No doctor in the village will sell you any medicine "

"I don't have to buy it." Erik sounded almost amused by this oversight of hers. She knew perfectly well Erik had not been afraid to take what he wanted in the past. Clearly that had not changed.

"Perfect." she sighed. "You are here for one minute, and already you want to instigate a pogram. No. Just … just … the wine. Please."

Erik turned. She heard him struggling briefly with the cask and then the sound of liquid pouring from one wooden container into another. Tsifia was calming down already, distracted by the pain in her head. A moment later, Erik was next to Bella again, crouched by the cot she perched on and holding a cup of wine out to Tsifia as an offering.

"Hello, Madame." he greeted in a tender, respectful tone. "Can you remember me?"

Tsifia looked simply confused as she allowed him to help her take a few sips of wine. The longer she drank, the more focused her eyes seemed to become. Bella knew it had nothing to do with the wine. Tsifia simply had more lucid moments.

"You're back, boy?" the old woman asked. "You have been gone a very long time."

Erik sighed as if in relief that he was recognized and acknowledged. He didn't seem to hear the disapproving tone to her voice.

"I know." he admitted ruefully. "You see, I-"

Abruptly, Tsifia reached out and smacked Erik's cheek. It was not a terribly hard hit – not one that would rock his head on his shoulders or anything that severe. But it looked hard enough to sting and knock his cotton mask slightly askew. Bella gasped in astonishment and horror, But Erik bowed his head as if accepting a well-earned punishment.

"I don't care where you have been or what you have been doing." Tsifia snarled. "You abandoned my granddaughter!"

"I never intended that." Erik murmured, sounding properly chastened. So much so that Bella suspected him to be putting on an act to appease her grandmother. "I left to study. To build a trade. But I am back now. I have two horses of my own, and money enough to buy a new performance tent. One bigger than what the tribe already has. I always intended to return for Bella."

Bella turned away from her grandmother to stare at Erik's profile. He kept his eyes lowered. His voice was so full of pain that it wrenched her heart. Her breath caught in her throat.

Tsifia grabbed Erik by the front of his shirt to pull herself closer to him.

"You look at me, boy." she demanded.

"Bunica..." Bella tried to stop this. It was too much strain on the old woman, surely. Far too much. And it was too much strain on Bella, who felt as though she were in a surreal, foggy dream. She could just barely accept that Erik was really here.

"No, Bella, it's all right."

Erik slowly lifted his eyes to Tsifia's, and they examined each other an endless moment. Then her grandmother released Erik and leaned back once more. She must have seen something in his eyes that mollified her slightly.

"You had better be good to my girl." she warned him. "You be good to my Bella, boy, or I'll lay a gypsy curse on you that will be legendary."

Bella swallowed thickly, but Erik seemed to be smirking under his mask. Obviously, he had not been gone so long that he'd forgotten curses did not actually exist among the Romany. Curses were evil things. Things never to be spoken of or committed. No gypsy would risk their soul by doing such a terrible thing.

"I want to do right by her." he assured. "I swear that if she will still have me, I will be a good husband to her."

Bella watched as Erik rose to his feet and backed away. He held the cup of wine out to her, letting her continue plying Tsifia with the liquid. He was not looking directly at Bella now, and she could not bring herself to try and meet his eyes, either.

"We heard you were in Italy." she finally managed to admit. "We kept track of you the best we could. You were somewhere near Rome? I've never been there."

Erik nodded, looking tired and shaky. His eyes never left the old woman as she gradually dropped off to sleep.

"Yes." he confessed. "I went to Rome, and wound up studying architecture again. To my luck a very kind man took me on as an apprentice when he found me trespassing on one of his building sites – instead of trying to have me arrested."

Bella blinked, and found a glowing pride filling her chest in spite of her concern. Erik had told an old dying woman he wanted to return to her. But she did not take that as gospel truth. Many people lied to the dying to make their passing easier.

"I told you that you could be an architect!" she exclaimed, making him start and chuckle slightly.

"Well … I was certainly able to learn the craft." he agreed. "But it turns out there is no life for me in a place like Rome. No place for me in that field, just as I suspected... It is too dangerous for a man like me to stay in any one place for too long..."

Finally, he looked directly at her again. Bella wished she was not sitting on the cot. He was examining her head to toe, and it made her feel intensely self-conscious. It felt as if he were outright devouring her with only his gaze. And, to think, she was wearing a very simple and modest dress of brown and red.

"I am so glad to see you alive and well." he admitted, relief flooding his voice. There were tears suddenly misting his eyes. Slowly and hesitantly, he held his left hand towards her with his palm up in an offering. "Bella … I missed you."

Arabella stared at his offered hand, torn a little between taking it and smacking it away. She had missed Erik, yes. But she'd also felt betrayed by his extended absence. Abandoned, shunned, forgotten... She still was not sure he'd told Tsifia the truth when he'd claimed to want to still be with her. Missing her and being glad to see her were not necessarily the same thing.

She must have hesitated for too long, because Erik abruptly jerked his entire body away from her, and began to pace the cramped tsera.

"I missed you, too." she offered quickly, hoping he wouldn't decide that coming back had been a bad idea. Hoping he wouldn't simply leave without giving her the answers she craved – if she could find the courage to seek them out. "Very much."

She turned to check on Tsifia, tucking her in tightly under a warm blanket as she stood up to leave the cot. When she turned back to Erik, he was again standing still; staring at her. He looked almost like a statue. There was something frightening in his eyes. Something desperate, lonely, and frightened. It was a sickly, heartrending combination.

"Bella … may I hold you?" he whispered, sounding like a child. A child smaller than the boy she'd met three years prior. "Please... may I hold you?"

Startled, Bella tilted her head at him. It was such a pathetic plea, really. This man had left her behind for three years without so much as a plan or note. If he'd wanted to send her a message, there would have been ways. Even if it took months to reach her, he could have contacted her. But he had not. Now he was back and asking to hold her...

"O-of course..." she decided slowly. There was no point in being cruel or unkind. He was not asking for much. And she had missed the all-too-brief experience of being tenderly held.

"May I take off my mask?"

Again, she hesitated. This time she did not hesitate because of her own doubts. It just … seemed like such an odd question for him to ask her. She had always wanted to see him.

"Of course." she repeated more firmly.

Erik ripped away his mask with such practice, it almost felt like she were an audience member at a show. He stood there with his horrible face looking a bit squarer, slightly more filled-out as if he'd recently been privileged to have a regular, decent diet. He looked better fed than most of the people in her tribe as of late.

She felt a stab of jealousy over that, but nothing else. There was no horror or disgust. Just … looking at the man who had been a boy she dearly loved.

When she made no sound or face to alarm him, Erik let the mask fall from suddenly limp fingers, and he crossed the tent in one enormous stride to pull her up into his arms as if he wanted to crush her into his body. Still, his grip wasn't confining or painful. It wasn't even very strong. Just … desperate. Helplessly, Arabella put her arms up around his shoulders in return and pressed her cheek to his shoulder. Well … the side of his arm just under his shoulder. He really had gotten much taller!

Bella had not grown even half as much!

For a long moment they just held each other, letting the awkwardness between them slowly fade as they were enveloped by the familiar smells and touch of each other. Bella settled into Erik so swiftly and so comfortably that it did not take long to feel the tense undercurrent keeping Erik's innermost core as taught as a bowstring. He was soon trembling as she nuzzled him, reveling in the feeling of just being touched. No one had touched her in three years other than Tsifia and the children she watched. Not one person had touched her with affection. Not even Gustauve, who'd touched her multiple times to correct her hold on a knife, or how she held her body. And it felt so wonderful!

"What's wrong, Erik?" she finally asked gently, giving in to her need to take care of him and love him, in spite of all the pain and shame she'd been suffering without him. It was not Erik specifically that she gave kindness and forgiveness to. It was simply who she was, and what she was driven to do – so long as the crime against her wasn't too bad. She couldn't help offering her compassion.

"I had to see you. To touch you again … to know you were alive and could bare just to look at me..." Erik's breath was trembling, just like his body. "Oh, ma belle... A girl died because of me! A silly little girl who actually thought she loved me died! Died because of my wretched face!"

He was on the verge of some terrible breakdown, Bella could feel it. Her arms tightened around him as if that could help hold him together.

"I'm … I'm so sorry..."

Stunned, Bella pulled away from their embrace to look up at him.

"Did you know her?" she asked worriedly, although the answer seemed obvious.

"Yes..." Erik sucked in a hard breath. "She was … my masters' daughter!"

Then the dam broke, and he practically collapsed against her. Bella tried to hold him, but he was too heavy. Instead of holding him up, she sank down to the ground with him and wrapped him all the more tightly in her arms. Even though he was so tall, Erik somehow managed to fold himself into a strange, tiny fetal position; with his head dropping from hers to her shoulder and finally to her lap. Very familiar with this position from months and years of babysitting children, Bella stroked his scalp and rocked her body in comfort.

She tried to soothe him … tried to be of some comfort. But this pain was obviously far too great, and he'd been holding it in for God-alone knew how long. She could feel the grief leech out of him like poison. It was a poison that filled the tent and eventually dispersed through any available cracks and breaks in the canvas. But it was a slow, suffocating process. Even she felt the horrible toxicity of it surrounding her.

"I know what I did was wrong!" Erik exclaimed. "I never should have left you alone for so long! I should have come to get you! But I was … so afraid. I thought you would never forgive me! And I didn't dare come back until I deserved you! But this … I couldn't … I couldn't bare it alone, Bella! Please, forgive me! Forgive me for doing this to you! I just needed you so much!"

He did not speak so much of his long absence; she knew that. He wanted forgiveness for returning after a three year absence, while mourning the death of another girl he'd clearly been quite fond of. Bella did not know to what extent this girl had captured Erik's heart, and that stung almost as much as the long time he had been gone. This was what he begged her forgiveness for. That he had somehow wronged her, but still found his only solace in her.

"Erik..." she began slowly, her uncertain tone making him lift his eyes to hers in worry. "If your masters' daughter were still alive … would you be here today?"

He flinched at the question, and Bella had to hold her breath against the pain of his incoming answer.

"Today?" he asked, stalling for time to try and pull his thoughts together. "No. No, not today. But I missed you, ma belle. I was going to return soon, no matter-"

"Did you love her?" Bella interrupted, feeling heat fill her chest and climb up her throat. Her lungs squeezed tightly in her rib cage and her heart hammered.

Erik froze, blinking at her for a long moment in what seemed to be confusion.

"What?"

"Did you love her?" Bella repeated.

Erik pulled away from her, shaking his head as he turned his body away.

"No! No, of course not!" he denied. "She was the daughter of my master! He treated me like his own son! I would never-"

"-I nearly fell in love."

The silence that came over the tent was nearly suffocating. Erik was shrinking in on himself, breathing heavily as if there was suddenly no air. Bella felt a brief flicker of satisfaction that she had found a place to sting him. Then shame filled her. Vindictiveness was not in her nature, and it wasn't exactly fair. But she couldn't stop now that she'd started. Vindictive revenge for the pain he'd caused her, or simple statement of fact, it didn't matter. She had to continue.

"I met him at one of the gatherings." she continued quietly, reaching out to touch his arm in order to let him know that this was all right. That the story would not break him entirely. "Gustave. He was twenty-four, a knife thrower. He didn't know so much about me..."

Erik glanced at her sharply.

"No one told him you were a married woman?" he asked with simmering fury contained only by a barely restrained attempt at patience. Perhaps he already knew he deserved at least this much pain from her after how he'd left for so long.

"Oh, he knew." Bella admitted. "I told him myself, once I realized he was not merely toying with me when he flirted. He saw a lonely young woman who seemed to have no husband and started trying to court me a little. Offered to teach me how to use a knife. How to throw one, defend myself with one … fight with one. I never got very good at the fighting part. But what he did not know was my past. He didn't know about my father, or the baby, or that I'm a half-breed. And it was nice, Erik … so nice not to have any of that hanging over me."

Erik shuddered, his hands turning into claws as he raked long and uneven fingernails over the fabric covering his lower thighs.

"Was he good looking?" he whispered.

Bella hesitated this time. She tried to think about it objectively. To Erik, any man with a nose was good-looking. Or at least better looking than he was.

"Yes." she replied finally. "He had blue eyes. I don't see that very often in a Romany. But his were pale … almost gray. I liked his eyes very much."

"So why didn't you marry him?" Erik snapped, finally losing just a bit of his self-control. Normally Bella would have shrunk away from a tone like that. But not today. This was a man who had never hurt her physically. But he'd injured her deeply in his absence – and maybe even more with his return. "If he was so charming and good-looking and attentive, why didn't you marry him? You could have, couldn't you? Our marriage could have been annulled. Easily."

"Because I was already married to you!" Bella seethed. "You were gone for eighteen months, Erik. Believe me, if I'd known you'd still be gone another sixteen, I might have rethought my choices! But I loved you! And I take my wedding vows seriously!"

What she did not want to admit was how she'd felt too afraid to trust Gustave. How she had second-guessed his affections. How she'd felt that, because of Yaakov, Adnah, and even Erik, she'd believed no man would seriously pursue her in a romantic way. That no man would ever truly want the woman she was. Her father had used her. A suitor had tried to assault her. Her own husband had abandoned her because he thought his desires for her were too sinful to give into – among other reasons. Why should she have trusted the knife thrower?

Erik shook his head miserably; but now Bella had no idea why.

"Did you love this girl? Your masters' daughter?" she insisted.

Erik took a long moment, swallowing a hard lump in his throat.

"She was lovely." he admitted in a mere breath. Bella almost couldn't hear him. "Dark and beautiful and spirited... so much like you... But she was spoiled … a little bully that always got her way. She reminded me more of my mother in her manner..."

Slowly he raised his gaze to bravely meet hers.

"She was beautiful in the way you are. But her ugliness was inside, just like Adnah's."

Arabella spat to one side at the mention of the man Erik had once killed trying to protect her. Erik followed suit obediently, accepting the superstitious action.

"I did not love her." he finished. "I might have done …if I had not known you first. If I had not had vows of my own to keep, and someone truly good to compare her ugliness to. She was not evil, or wicked. She was just a spoiled little rich girl, beautiful and under the impression she could make the world in her image. She thought she could make me take off my mask and find a gorgeous prince charming underneath. But … I was no handsome prince. Instead she found death … and death claimed her."

Letting out a long, heavy sigh of relief, Bella nodded in acceptance.

"I am sorry." she replied again, glancing over her shoulder as Tsifia moaned low in her fitful sleep. Suddenly preoccupied with her grandmother, Arabella started to rise to her feet. "I'm sorry you suffered. I'm sorry that you were hurt by her."

"I really was coming back." Erik stated abruptly. "Truly, Bella. A few months ago I took leave from Giovanni's house when the work was light. I found a fair to perform at and earn a little extra money, and I managed to get some news of you. But when I heard how far away you were, I knew I could never return to Giovanni's house when I had promised to. So I was waiting. I knew you would come South again. I would have come, Bella – and soon."

Sighing, Bella nodded in simple acceptance.

"Erik, I'm too tired for this now." she admitted. "This is as much as I can take. I have other questions … things I want to know. But not tonight. This is all just … too much at once."

Erik rose to his feet, brushing grass and dirt off his fine trousers and straightening his shirt fastidiously.

"I will sleep outside." he offered.

"No." Bella shook her head decisively. "Bring your bed roll in here. You are my husband. I am your wife. You will sleep in here where you belong. We can worry about … other things later."