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Chapter 8

It was the night of the potion incident that Erik appeared at her bedroom door. It was the first time he'd ever come to visit her without an invitation - he was far too polite to show up unannounced at her private room. But tonight, Christine listened, wide awake in bed, as her door creaked open. When she snapped her eyes to the source of the sound, and found him peeking in, she sat straight up, hands on either side of her on the mattress.

"Christine?" he whispered.

"Come in," she said. In her chest, concern mingled with a spark of joy at seeing her friend so unexpectedly. "Is everything all right?"

"Yes." But the strain in his voice, the hesitation after - like he wanted to say more - told her that the answer was truly the opposite.

"Come in," she said again, and reached over to switch on the light of her bedside lamp. The illumination showed that worry like a shadow over his face. His eyes were dim, like even though they were on her, he was actually looking at something far from here. "What's wrong?"

Slowly, shifting between looking at her and the door, as though he was ready for her to rescind her invitation, he closed it. He stood there, body stiff, hands taut at his side, and searched the room - his eyes landed on the plush white bench at the end of her bed. He went to it, sat, and turned his body to face her so that he was profile.

There was silence for a time, in which she waited for his reply - she'd already asked him twice what was the matter - before he said, "I disappointed your father today."

She waited for him to elaborate, but he appeared to be done. Waiting for her, in fact.

"My father is likely more disappointed in me than you," she responded, voice gentle.

"But you are his daughter," he said with a breath.

"So?"

"So, he cannot just as easily throw you out if you misbehave."

Christine was stunned into silence. "Erik, you are not going to be thrown out into the streets."

He grimaced. "I didn't want to see you take the full blame, because I was also at fault. I could have said no. I knew what a silly and childish thing it was to do, but I didn't want to disappoint you. I wanted to go along with your plans, even if I knew they wouldn't end well."

Shame heated her cheeks. He may as well have scolded her in a shout, called her an immature little girl, for the impact his words had on her. "You shouldn't have," she whispered.

"I knew you would be unhappy if I said no-"

"No, that's my fault. I knew how stupid it was too. But you shouldn't have taken any of the blame. You should have said that I forced you. I...Erik, I am sorry. I knew you would say yes, for the exact reason you gave. I could tell you didn't approve of the plan, but I pressed on anyway. It was entirely unfair of me to take advantage of your friendship that way. I am sorry."

He looked at her. "I don't want to disappoint you or your father. I am too afraid of losing your friendship and his tutelage."

"You won't lose those things."

"Oh!" He stood in a sudden passion, crossing to the other side of the room within a single moment. She watched as he took a breath and turned to face her once more, a monsoon in his eyes. "You didn't see how he looked at me. Disappointment. He was so cross - but your father is different from any other adult I've known. He doesn't become angry...not really. Not in a way that's frightening. But the frustration in his eyes was worse than any beating or string of mean words I've ever received."

She brought her hands together and picked at a loose bit of skin on her fingernails, not bearing to look at the dismay in his face. "Erik, it surely wasn't that awful. We didn't kill the Pope. We didn't rob the national bank. We only made a bit of a mess in the kitchen."

He stared at her a moment, then shook his head slowly. "You don't understand. You can't understand, can you? You have nothing to fear, nothing to lose - but I have everything to lose. I could lose everything with one mistake, if your father decides he no longer wants me around. I must stay on my best behavior...and I normally am, but even just one mistake-"

"He won't throw you out." She looked up at him. "He won't. And if he does, I will follow you."

Erik watched her dubiously, then turned away. "Don't say things you don't mean."

"I do mean it!" Christine flung the blankets off of her. She crossed to him and took his hands. "I do mean it. You're my best friend. Wherever you go, I will follow."

He stared down at where their fingers touched. "If I go, it would likely be back in a travelling fair."

"I'd follow you there."

"Showing my face to people for money." He swallowed. "You would hate me the moment you saw it, and would run immediately back home, begging for your father not to disown you for running away. I'd be right back where I was two years ago."

"I wouldn't."

His eyes were back on hers.

"I wouldn't," she continued. "I would never judge you for what you look like. You're the loveliest person I've ever met, and no oddity in your appearance could ever change that."

"It's ugly." There was a strange glint in his eye. "Please. Please do not say things you don't mean."

"I don't care."

"It's frightening, even." His breath came in a bit shallow. It seemed like he was ready to both cry and shout at once. "You don't know what you are talking about. You are giving me false hope, and I would ask you to stop."

"Erik, I tell you, I don't care." She watched as he set his jaw, felt his hands go stiff again. "I don't care. I care what's inside your-"

She didn't get a chance to finish. He ripped his hands from hers and removed his mask, tears gleaming in his eyes.