A/N: Hugs and kisses to all the authors who have inspired me to come back and finish this story. There's nothing worse for a reader than a WIP, especially the ones where the author doesn't update for several months (sorry!). This will be the second to last chapter. Please read & review.

Erik 1853: Part V

Nadir led me easily down the brightening hall. Like a sheep to the slaughter, I followed without protest. Inside my skull raged a battle of wills. The part of me that had come to love Nadir refused to kill him. Refused to hurt him again; I'd done it once when I sang Reza into his final sleep. The other part of me, the part that was growing every year, crept into my logic and showed me how simple it would be. Simple, painless, and advantageous for him. I had almost fallen into my own spell when Esmée spoke.

'So my riddles fell before blind eyes.' I didn't look at her. It was enough that she had come to mock me and my pride. 'Erik, you do realise that you're about to be tortured to death, don't you?'

Still I said nothing — refusing to acknowledge her presence — and continued to walk ten paces behind Nadir. He, too, acted as though he couldn't hear a word she said, that or he was deep in thought.

Esmée brushed past me with the grace of a dancer. On the balls of her feet she moved towards Nadir. In her right hand I saw the glint of a blade. The not so distant past reminded me that she'd threatened me with the very same knife. This red-haired daemon would either damn me to hell or be my salvation. I sucked in my breath and watched, unable to move, as she grabbed Nadir roughly and placed the sharp edge against his throat.

'I could kill you with one swift movement, daroga,' she said against his cheek. Nadir could easily have escaped her hold on him but he leaned into her — unsure and broken — and allowed her to press the knife against his flesh. 'I won't take your life if you let him go.'

They stood facing me. More than ever I felt like I had been put behind the constricting bars of a cage. Their mixed pity and revere came at me like long sticks to poke and prod at my suddenly naked body. A split second passed before Nadir answered her.

Calmly, he said, 'It is not my wish to see him die, Nājia.'

She flinched at the sound of her other name. The knife slipped a little against Nadir's sweaty skin and my stomach soared in response as a trickle of blood ran down his neck. The last two people in all of Persia that wished a monster to be set free would destroy each other if I didn't say something. Yet for the first time in my life, my tongue felt thick and unmoveable in my mouth. I had nothing to say at last.

'My name is Esmée. I am no longer a slave of this house and no one will ever call me by that name without suffering death by my hand.'

The knife moved away from his jugular and her arms dropped to her sides. I saw defeat in her eyes. No matter where she lived or what she aspired to be, she would remain nothing more than that of a little girl left in the hands of a wicked step-mother from ancient faery tales. She was nothing to me and I reminded myself that I could not — would not! — save her. Sadly, she remained as someone that would slow me down in my escape from an inevitable death and not the temptress she appeared, but still I pitied her and what she could have become in a more civilised world.

Nadir stepped away from her enough to turn and face her, 'Forgive my faux pas Esmée. I know nothing of your life before the harem. It is my job to investigate the truth, but you, my dear, were always elusive — wrapped in lies and half-truths.'

'A matter of survival, I think.' I watched her clutch the knife in her hand and knew she was uncertain in how to proceed. I gathered up my resolve and stepped towards them.

'And so my rescue begins with the spilling of innocent blood,' I said almost cheerfully. 'It would be far more advantageous if we were to continue moving our little party in the direction of freedom, I believe. Nadir, you have a plan, I'm sure of it.'

He nodded, eyeing Esmée with suspicion. I admit that I would hold my own judgements of her until after I found myself safely tucked outside of the shah's reach.

'This way,' he said indicating a path through the garden. 'I have two horses waiting for us.'

'Only two?' she asked quietly, looking at both of us in turn. 'So I am to be left to my own escape as I always feared.'

Nadir stared at the decorative stones that paved the ground. He shuffled his feet and managed an answer, 'It would not be wise to allow each of you a horse. It is even more foolish to burden one animal with both of you. Erik's only hope lies in the speed of his horse's hooves and the absence of guards on the roads.'

'You condemn me to death then,' Esmée challenged. 'And my only recourse will be to run straight to the khanum and divulge your assistance in his escape with the hopes that I will be spared for a time. A time when I will live in abject fear.'

There followed an uncomfortable silence. Nadir would be the prime suspect without Esmée's damning testimony. He had already put himself at great risk to plan such an escape devoid of the meddling of this woman. It suddenly dawned on me that it would be far more humane to strangle Esmée now and leave her body in the garden she had loved so much. It would be a courtesy, really, and the one gift I could easily give her was a swift release from a life of slavery and abuse.

I reached into my cloak for the catgut lasso. The angle had to be better so she wouldn't suffer too much at my hand. No matter what they shouted at me when I had killed others, I didn't want to be insensitive to one more death. After it was done, I would compose her requiem and sing it across the Caspian sea. The body of water that so reminded me of her eyes.

'There are other ways of escape,' Nadir spoke and in doing so he stayed my hand. 'I know of another way that could be arranged today if you were to agree to allow Erik to take the horse this very morning.'

It was now Esmée's turn to stare at Nadir with grave suspicion. 'You owe me no fealty. Should I agree to this … arrangement, you could easily allow Erik to escape and then as easily have me arrested.'

'You forget that if I were to arrest you that you would still be able to confess everything you knew to the shah.' Nadir reminded me of how his mind worked quickly and honestly. He would show her the truth in his plan and she would have no choice but to comply.

She frowned. I silently willed her to accept his offer as the creeping light of dawn was fast turning into the brilliant light of day. The option of the lasso remained ever at the tips of my fingers.

Esmée held out her hand. 'I agree to these terms. Before you go, I wish to speak to Erik. Go and ready your steeds.'

Nadir didn't say anything more. He took her hand and allowed her to shake it firmly, as was our western tradition. We both watched him walk swiftly away from us and I hoped that he would have the further courage to wait for me. Whatever she said could not detain me much longer. This thought brought my gaze down onto her face.

At last, I held her in my sight and took in all the small changes I had earlier ignored. She had cut her hair and wore the cap of a young Persian lad. No longer was her body outfitted in lace and silk and gold but the tattered remnants of a street urchin. She had darkened the luminous sheen of her skin with a substance that muddied it's translucence. Only my memory of her reminded me of her former beauty.

She watched me as I tried to accept every detail of her new identity. 'They will know you by your eyes,' I told her. It was true. Though her face had been smudged it only managed to make her eyes stand out more brilliantly against the dullness.

'All the more reason for me to make my escape at once,' she countered. 'Erik, I delay this moment because I am frightened of your answer.'

Fear was something I had created in others often enough. 'It's understandable. Though I think it would be wise for you to swallow your emotions and give me whatever information you have so that we can both be on our separate ways.'

'There's a road that leads into Odessa,' she said not pausing to breathe or waiting for my reaction, 'and I will be waiting on this road to tell you something that I've long wanted to tell you but could not say aloud even to myself.'

Christ, I thought, is this the part in my tragedy where she admits her undying love for me? It was obtuse of me, I admit, but that is the first thought that came to mind when she spoke to me from her heart.

'There are many roads that lead to Odessa,' I answered with no hint of humour in my voice. 'And many of these roads hide thieves and spies who would bend to the whims of a woman such as yourself.'

'You have such a brilliant mind that you've convinced yourself you know everything about the human condition!' she shouted. I envied her that she allowed herself such passion at a time when her very life was in peril. 'You know nothing about the heart, Erik. Nothing.'

Esmée didn't wait for my response. She moved past me and into the darkness that the tall fruit trees afforded. Something demanded that I watch her until I could no longer make out her thin form. A call from Nadir reminded me of my own tragedy play and I walked with purpose towards the denouement.

'My angels swiftly escort you into a more deserving paradise, mademoiselle,' I whispered towards the ghost of her footsteps.

o . O . o

Good-byes have never been something that I am accustomed to accepting or giving. Nadir and I said our last words to each other and he took with him my cloak, my mask, and my life's debt. I took with me his friendship and my own tears.

The old daroga had wrung such depths of emotion from me that I had no thoughts to hide it from him. He deserved to see my gratitude. Our friendship had grown and strengthened and been broken on the edge of a shah's blade.

Not once did I look back to see if he followed the gallop of my mount. Not once did I think he would be safe from the shah's wrath with the flimsy story he gave them. A body had been placed near a road that led along the edges of the Caspian Sea. Of course I had no intention of travelling that way. I would take a more dangerous route. One that brought me to the very edges of the palace in Tehran. It was the last test of my fearlessness.

Night after night I sat, caught between being fully awake and fast asleep, near my horse. I trusted he would alert me to anyone's approach, and woe to those who crossed my path in the Persian kingdom. There may have been a few undeserving deaths as the miles put distance between myself and the spoiled shah. In truth, there were probably far more deserving deaths as I wound my way into sunset after sunset.

On the whole, I relied on my knowledge of plants and herbs to sustain me through those long days. It was not until I neared the city of Odessa that I began to venture into inhabited villages. The stares followed but I had enough money to quickly close the most astonished mouth. Dreams of flowing red hair and long graceful limbs filled my fitful nights. I had decided, between some tiny row of houses or another, that I had to discover if Esmée had made it out alive. My curiosity demanded it. A woman travelling on her own would have been an easy target — no matter how short she cut her hair or how tightly she bound her breasts. It intrigued me to discover her whereabouts though I would not invite her to continue her journey at my side.

The distance between myself and the shah was not so great that I tried to fill the endless hours of my boredom with magic and music filled shows for the public's amusement and horror. I didn't need the money either. The great and generous nature of the khanum and her son had seen to that … the stolen jewels made my horde all the more sweet.

Instead, I wandered the streets, keeping my head down beneath the weight of a thick turban, and took in the city. The cheaper sections of Odessa drew me like a vulture to a rotting carcass. It was here that I took in the spice that made the city throb with life. Small boys learned how to pick pockets. Old men sat and smoked pipes and talked together in a melodic hum. Married women hung wash in flowerless gardens behind stone houses. Everywhere the struggle to keep their progeny feed and away from the more dangerous habits. Habits like the hashish clubs that called me with their darkened rooms and promises of sweet bliss.

And when I had received what I longed for from such a place I would hide away and forget that I had ever known hunger or pain or sin. Most importantly, though, I would forget I had ever known a woman named Esmée who wanted to rescue me like some modern day Joan of Arc. I didn't need to be rescued.

I needed to discover inner peace without my memories of tragic beauty clouding my imagination.