Erik walked Arabella slowly back to the camp site, although she insisted they part once the place was within earshot. They hadn't agreed on what to do about anything yet, and he supposed he was going to have to trust her in whatever she decided upon alone. But he didn't want her to feel like she needed to be alone. As unwelcome as he was within their company – except for as a source of income – he would have braved anyone's anger to stand at her side and support anything she had to say or do. Considering why he'd committed his first murder that morning, he would have even confessed to the crime and taken any punishment they wished to dole out.
But that meant he would likely be killed… and then who would protect Arabella? Her mother and grandmother clearly weren't any good at it.
Someone had to keep her safe, since she so clearly couldn't protect herself from Yaakov. With the history he shared with his own mother, he knew just how difficult it could be to overcome the shadows of your elders. No matter how badly they treated you, there was a desperateness to try and earn their love and approval that could easily keep you from shutting them out in whatever ways would have been healthier.
Just the thought of a father stooping so low as to abuse his child the way Arabella had been made Erik convulsively flex his hands in and out of white-knuckled fists. He could feel the scrawny neck of the man he'd partially strangled earlier as he imagined doing the same to Yaakov Lyberia. He'd made his promise not to harm the man because he'd already learned about Yaakov's type from Adnah. They could not deal with their power being taken from them. Once Erik found a way to do that – to take Arabella out of her father's control – Yaakov would lose his mind and come searching for his daughter. He would try to regain his control… if he didn't harm her before Erik had the opportunity to free her. Erik seriously doubted the man had that kind of self-control. Once he laid a single finger of harm on her tender skin, Erik would feel more than welcome to get the man alone and oh so slowly end his miserable existence as he had Adnah's.
There were two very agitated gypsy men stalking around his makeshift stage as he approached it. No doubt Vlad and Sven had been concerned about their former prisoner, and how long he'd been away from view of the crowds that swarmed the mostly tented clearing. Erik sighed, agitated that his thoughts of murder and protectiveness would have to be put aside while he soothed his former captors, and reassured them that he had not simply taken off and was still going to work to give them a part of his profits.
That was another agreement that wouldn't last long. He understood the need to earn the trust of the gypsies by working with them now that he was free, but he'd be damned before providing his own abusers with an endless supply of undeserved profit. The small taste of freedom he'd had in the past twenty-four hours already had his brain wracked with ideas of how to show the two puling idiots the kind of monster they'd thought they had broken. It couldn't be done too abruptly or dangerously… he had more than himself to think about. But he was going to free himself completely of any obligations to them… and soon.
"Where have you been, mullo?" Vlad spat as he approached with forced calm. "You can't just disappear whenever you wish! You have to earn your keep among us!"
Erik rolled his shoulders in a careless and indolent shrug. It was hard not to be arrogant when he knew just how easily he could snap their necks if he truly wanted to. It was also a good way to put them in their new place, to show that they might earn something out of his efforts but that he was no longer taking orders.
"I was not aware I must keep to a schedule." He stated dryly. "Or a quota. I was under the impression that you no longer had a say in how I lived my life, as long as I live it to share my profits with you."
Reaching into his trousers, he pulled out a sack of coins and spilled some thoughtlessly into an open palm, at least a dozen more missing utterly and getting nearly lost in the grass at his feet. They glittered in the strengthening sunlight as the clouds continued to break and scatter overhead, instantly drawing the greedy eyes of his former tormentors. Erik wasn't even concerned with how much they tried to take from him. He knew they might very well try to snatch the entire purse away, but they had no way of knowing the stolen coins he'd long since started hoarding away. Much of it was now in a small hole he'd dug in his tent and hid under his sleeping pallet… but some of it weighed down a second makeshift coin purse in his other pocket.
"Here." He offered with a vague little sneer. "This ought to do for now."
Insolently, he tossed the fistful of coins up into the air and watched them scatter before brushing past his flabbergasted audience of two. Sven and Vlad were far too stunned to even feel rage, which made Erik actually want to laugh outright – but he knew better. He could be arrogant if he wanted… but he couldn't allow himself to be stupid.
"I have an audience to appease." H stated lazily over his shoulder. "Don't worry, there will be plenty more where that came from by the time I am done today."
Again, they wouldn't know of the pic-pocketing he would manage. It would require some moving from the stage and walking through the crowd… but he'd do what must be done. Although his captivity had taken up a very small portion of his life so far, he was not about to return to such squalor. He had plans for his future now that he was free to make them. He had plans for Yaakov, for himself…. and even for Arabella, if she were willing to play along.
First, he would need to perform and pick-pocket until his fingers bled – well, figuratively, at least. He needed the money to acquire what he wanted. The money would allow him to live in greater comfort in his tent – maybe to buy a much greater tent. It would allow him to buy the tricks of his yet unknown magical trade! The more money he invested in his performances, the more he would earn.
It was one thing a private tutor had taught him. If one wanted to succeed, they had to be willing to work hard for it, and invest just as much money as labor towards their goals. Besides, Erik enjoyed performing. He hated revealing his face to the crowd, and was determined that someday he'd never have to do it again… but he'd already started as a Freak. It was best to use that until his other skills overshadowed his appearance.
As he stepped up onto the stage with his fragile slip of black velvet once again covering his face, he allowed the undistracted portion of his mind to return to Arabella. He needed to begin plotting all the different ways he could protect his beauty in the future.
Just thinking of her as his beauty brought inspiration… although how it might protect her was really only a bonus. She was more than his savior… more than a young woman he felt genuine love for (the word slipped easily in and out of his thoughts as he practiced it). While performing and thinking of how to protect her at the same time, he was delighted to find she was also his muse.
He could not wait to speak to her about it once she was healed and feeling better.
But… first things first…
He crouched low on the edge of the stage, his voice carrying like a black tsunami over the gaping crowd, holding them completely in his thrall as he whipped off his mask and waited for the sound of screams. For once, he didn't associate their squeals and shouts with the abhorrence they felt towards his visage. Now, closing his eyes, he welcomed it and imagined what his now guilty hands could do to them for so callously and greedily flocking to humiliate and exploit him.
Today, they no longer had control over him… although the bliss of this knowledge would be short-lived. At least, musically speaking, he could have his revenge.
Arabella pulled her hair back into a braid, and covered her head carefully with her shawl, before creeping her way back into camp and working through the astoundingly large crowd of settled folk who had come out for a day among the savage gypsies. She knew her grandmother would not be in her own tent, remaining a majority of the day in her ofisa as long as business remained brisk. It was the only place she could reasonably count on being alone to take care of herself; and take a real rest from the events of the day. Even if her father came searching for her, expecting to collect earnings from her dancing that day, she would be able to explain that it was her time … and it was understood even by Yaakov that girls could not show themselves in public during their time.
After raiding her grandmother's belongings for medicine to treat her injuries, Arabella lay across Tsifia's cot and pulled the blanket high up over her head to block out the ever strengthening light of the sun that shone through the canvas of the tent. Even once she was well hidden and able to rest, she couldn't make her mind turn off. It kept running over that morning… and not even so much over Adnah's assault.
Yes, the event haunted her… but it was nowhere near as strong in her mind as the later conversation with Erik.
She could scarcely believe that he'd declared to love her… or even that she'd declared to love him, too! It hadn't been said in specific words of romantic context… but she'd understood him just as clearly as he'd understood her.
She'd never thought she'd be capable of that type of emotion. There were too many physical expectations from people who were in love. How could she ever manage to truly love Erik – or any man for that matter –the way she thought he so richly deserved? He probably deserved more than any man she'd ever known, considering how he'd so clearly been robbed of any kind of love so far.
She didn't feel worthy of his love. That much she was certain of. How could someone so badly damaged deserve the patient devotion of a man who understood so quickly and easily that he could never really have her?
Did he really understand? He had connected their conversation by the fire two nights ago with what any life with her would be like? Certainly, it wasn't as if he'd professed his undying devotion or asked her to marry him… but surely he had enough foresight to see just how ridiculous it would be to bother really loving a creature like her. Had he thought about what loving a woman who couldn't willingly share more than her feelings would be like? Did he have enough patience for a love like that?
Unless she'd overestimated his ability to understand… he had already claimed that he did.
Taking a deep breath, Arabella closed her eyes with a startled laughing cry more of happiness than sorrow. She didn't understand this turn of events any more than she'd understood her feelings the night of that first shared dance. But she was still more than greedy enough to want more than had already been granted to her. She was still daring enough to chase down the miracle that was so often spoken of… but so rarely experienced by her until now.
She didn't know how things could ever work out between a gypsy dancer and a gaje aberration… but he was already her salvation… and she didn't want to sink back into the Hell that had been her life before his friendship appeared. She didn't even want to go back to the simple friendship that had existed while bars still stood between them.
She wanted more… for both of them. She knew it was likely impossible… particularly surrounded as she was by gypsies who would more than merely chafe at her choice… but she couldn't stop now. She had to keep going forward… because even the terrifying darkness in Erik was better than the bleak existence that awaited her otherwise.
She was awakened by voices outside the tent, much too close to be anywhere other than directly in front of the doorway.
"Madam, have you seen Arabella this afternoon?"
She smiled softly; thrilled at the thought that Erik was searching for her. She sat up on the cot slowly, stretching her now well rested limbs and yawning hugely. With Erik's tent right next door, she was hardly worried about him vanishing any time in the immediate future. She hadn't had enough time to think about him… but she would have undoubtedly set her mind directly to him if it hadn't been his voice to wake her.
"Not as yet." Tsifia admitted with a tired sigh. "Is there something I can help you with?"
"N-no…" Erik actually stammered slightly, sounding as though he were moving towards his own private abode. She could just imagine him hunching his shoulders a little and bowing his head uncomfortably. "Thank you."
"Erik." Tsifia said suspiciously, probably stopping him in his tracks as she did so many other youths in the campsite. "What do you need my granddaughter for?"
"I just… I wanted to see how she's doing." He admitted reluctantly.
Arabella pushed back the blanket she'd been sleeping under, and strode over to the opening in the tent. The motion immediately caught Tsifia's attention, even in the dark. The older woman started briefly, clearly able to see that something was wrong with her granddaughter's face but unable to make out the details. She was also instantly alerted to the fact that Arabella didn't step right out into the open.
"I can't see anyone now." Arabella murmured to her grandmother. "Tell him I can't see him for the next few days. He should understand why by now."
Tsifia glanced between her partially concealed granddaughter and Erik – who remained well out of Arabella's line of sight.
"Is it...?" she asked uneasily.
"My time." Arabella confirmed quickly. "He witnessed me feeling uncomfortable this morning before I came here."
"Ah." Tsifia hesitated longer, her eyes narrowing as she tried to take in the details of her granddaughter's face. "Light a few candles for me, child, and make me some tea."
Arabella nodded and turned to obey, although she was immediate aware of Erik having stepped closer to the tent opening. It amazed her how attuned she was becoming to his presence, even when it was out of sight.
"Bella?" he called quietly. "How are you feeling?"
"She can't talk with you just now." Tsifia interrupted quickly, her voice stern and almost harsh. "She can't be seen for a few days. There are simply certain times a proper traveler woman cannot be seen in public."
"I understand that." Erik assured her quickly. "I'm not trying to see her. I am asking her a question. If I need to, I'll just speak to her from within my own tent, through the walls."
Tsifia snorted before stepping into her tent and brushing past Arabella to pick up a box of matches and begin lighting the candles Arabella had yet to get to.
"Neither of you are going to listen to me." She grumbled. "Why should I bother trying anymore?"
Arabella smirked, although it stung her split lip slightly to do so, and turned back to the tent flap.
"I'm doing much better." She called to Erik. "Are you all right? Is… is everything… all right?"
There was a hesitation, which Tsifia used to look even more suspiciously at Arabella, her eyes silently demanding answers to unspoken questions.
"So far, everything has worked out just fine." Erik reassured her, obviously speaking of Adnah's disappearance. "I've thought of an idea… but that can wait until you feel better."
Arabella moved closer to the canvas of her grandmother's tent, her head brushing it slightly as she barely managed to make out Erik's silhouette from the failing daylight. Although the tent was much too small to escape Tsifia's hearing, she lowered her voice.
"Erik?"
She heard his foot brush the tent just across from her.
"Yes?" he said gently.
"I don't know what to tell…"
There was a long moment of silence as Erik considered her unfinished sentence.
Tsifia had lit several candles and two dangling lanterns within the tent, and Arabella heard her horrified gasp as the old woman finally saw her granddaughter's face clearly for the first time.
"Arabella!" she nearly shrieked. "What happened to you?"
Sighing, Arabella lifted her head away from the canvas.
"You'll have to think of something now." Erik murmured with dry humor lacing his voice. "I'll be in my tent if you need me. I'm just a word away."
He didn't wait for a response. Arabella heard him deliberately humming under his breath as he walked away and into his neighboring shelter. Slowly, she turned to face her grandmother's accusatory gaze.
"I'm all right." She offered.
"Bella-"Tsifia tried to object. "You are not-"
"I'm fine!" Arabella insisted. "I'm fine, because of Erik."
She was startled at how accusatory her own voice was. She had never once thought such a simple truth could be used as a whip against her grandmother. It wasn't as though she could possibly blame the older woman for Adnah's actions, or for not being there to protect her. How could she possibly have guessed what was going to happen to her that day? Tsifia had never seen the sour side of Adnah's personality. It was unbelievably unfair to say Erik had been there as though anyone had been given the option to be.
Tsifia didn't seem to feel stung by her words, though. She stared at Arabella with her mouth dropped open, her hands frozen with a smoking match between finger and thumb. Scolding herself for being so harsh, Arabella strode forward and removed the match, dropping it into a small bowl on the table and taking her grandmother's shoulders in firm but comforting hands.
"I would be far worse off if Erik hadn't saved me." She whispered, although she knew her voice was probably still loud enough for Erik to hear in his tent. She knew he was probably listening to see how things would lay out. "I was attacked in the forest. Erik saved me… and chased off the man who attacked me."
Tsifia continued staring, clearly unable to think clearly for a long moment. Then, brows knitting, she pulled from Arabella's grasp and turned to a box full of ingredients she often used for tonics… and gypsy spells.
"Do you know who it was?" she demanded without looking back. "I will curse the gaje bastard!"
Arabella rolled her eyes, wondering that her grandmother could want to curse a random stranger over her gaje son-in-law.
"You can't curse him." She told her reasonably. "It wasn't a gaje man."
Tsifia froze once again, her shoulders heaving with rage.
"What?" she breathed harshly.
"He was one of us." Arabella explained simply. It was unheard of for one gypsy to curse another. Tsifia would never do such a thing, no matter how well deserved. "It was Adnah."
Her grandmother whirled, her face nearly purple with rage as she stalked towards the tent doorway.
"That bastard!" she hissed. "I'll see him banished!"
Arabella pressed her lips together grimly, determined not to expose Erik's crime. Frankly, she was surprised at the strength of her grandmother's reaction. She'd never seemed so enraged over what abuses she knew Yaakov had committed. Was it the fact that another gypsy had attacked her over a gaje?
"Bunica, he ran off." She sighed, reaching out to grasp the woman's arm. "Erik chased him away, and threatened to kill him if he ever saw him again. If you'd seen Erik this morning, you would probably guess that Adnah won't be foolish enough to return."
Tsifia shook her head adamantly.
"I need to tell the Viadi. He'll call a Kris. We can have him marked marime from all of our clans!"
"Bunica, no!" Arabella pleaded. "I don't want anyone else to know! Please!"
Tsifia looked up at her sharply, startled that Arabella would go so far to protect her secrets. It was one thing to be afraid of what would happen if her mother and father were brought to justice for their crimes… but a bachelor who had tried to force himself on her? Tsifia would not keep secrets for a non-family member she'd thought she could trust.
"Why?" she demanded.
"I'm already marime!" Arabella reminded her. "The others might think he was performing a grabbing instead of truly assaulting me! And my… my future… it's already going to be complicated enough. I don't need them hating me for causing one of their own to be cast out."
After a moment of forcibly calming herself, Tsifia shook her head in resignation.
"Your life?" she asked wearily as she moved to tremblingly sit herself at the small table. "What kind of hard future do you think you have, Chavi?"
Arabella hesitated, glancing towards the wall that Tsifia's tent virtually shared with Erik. In spite of their exchange earlier in the day, and her willingness to seek out more from their confessions, she found admitting it to someone else hard. She also didn't want to assume anything about where she and Erik could end up in the future. Confessing it to Tsifia would only start their obstacles even sooner, before she could make heads or tails of the situation and her plausible options.
Tsifia followed her uneasy gaze, but didn't scowl. She sighed again, closing her eyes.
"Make me that tea, Bella." She requested. "And put a little something into it. I have a feeling this is going to be a long few days."
Ofisa: Fortune telling establishment
Viadi: Gypsy chief
Kris: Court, trial, justice, or fate
Chavi: girl child