Changes
I cannot deny it any more. My illness persists, and I miss my cycle. I cry myself to sleep more than one night. And still I tell no one. This causes me more distress than my frustration over my failures, and I am angry with myself to top everything off. More than once I have gone to Erik with the intent of telling him – for it is his, I am sure – but I soon quell and pretend that I simply wished to hear him play.
If there is one thing that calms me, it is Erik's music. He often plays and is always willing to give recitals. Once, he asks if I wish to sing, and I do. When we are finished, I look at him, waiting for his approval. He merely nods his head before taking his music away. Disappointment crushes me, and I turn to go to my room.
"It is beautiful," Erik calls, and I stop. "Your voice. Khan was not wrong."
He says nothing of music for many days, and he disappears for another few. I see Taurin sparingly, but he is apparently very important and is gone away on important business most of the time. However, whenever we speak, he is always kind, and we never mention our family or the Oligarchy, for the subjects make him testy and irritable.
I fall into trouble one warm day. I sit by the window, staring longingly outside. The sun is calling to me, and I have not felt a breeze on my face for many, many weeks. Looking around furtively, I slip away and hurry out the back door, intent on a very quick walk. The wind blows over my arms, ruffling my hair, and I smile.
But I do not walk far. There is a sudden shriek, and someone grabs my shoulder. It is the kind lady. She pulls me back inside, her face stricken with fear and anger.
"How dare you do that, you ungrateful, petulant thing!" she scolds me, heading to my room. "You know very well you are not allowed!" With an angry sigh, she pushes me into the room and locks the door. I am quite tempted to shout at her, but I instead huff and pout by the window, angered mostly by her chidings than I was not outside for long. I am left in my room the rest of the day; I suppose one good thing that comes out of it is the fact that I grow very sick that afternoon and spend most of it in the washroom, trying not to cry as I empty my stomach repeatedly.
For two more days, I see neither Erik nor Taurin, and I am becoming quite aware of the fact that it is now hard for me to fit into my dresses. And so I feel much better at night, when my nightgown flows freely and I can sleep.
One dark night, my sleep is interrupted by a very loud thump from downstairs. I sit up quickly in my bed, trying to blink away the confusion. There is another thump, followed by raised voices. Now curious, I slide out of the sheets and hurry toward the door. It opens before I can reach it, and Taurin runs in, his face ghostly in the dark. I gasp as I see his lip is cut and dripping blood. But he says nothing and simply grabs my wrist, pulling me out of the room.
"Taurin – stop! What – ?"
"Hush!" he hisses, running quietly down the hall toward the study. I am dragged inside, and he locks the door before pushing a small couch in front of it. Quickly, he shoves all the books off the little table and picks it up.
"Stand back," he commands, and I go to the corner of the room. With a glance at me, he hurls the table through the window, smashing it instantly, and the sound is shattering. I give a shriek and cover my ears. The shouting downstairs has grown louder; it sounds as if they have made their way upstairs. Now looking frantic, Taurin uses his foot to kick away the rest of the glass.
"Come here," he says. I do not dare disobey when his face is set so, and so I hurry over. The door handle rattles as someone tries to enter. There is more shouting, and a loud thump as someone throws their weight against the door. Now terrified, I stand by the open window, my brother beside me.
"You must climb into that tree, Christine," he says, pointing to the one that stands outside the window. "It will be exactly like when we were children. I will be right behind you." My gaze drifts to the door. There are loud scratching sounds, more shouting, and more thumps.
"Listen to me!" Taurin says, taking my face and turning it toward his own. "You must do this. Climb down the other side of the tree; someone will be waiting for you. Do exactly as I say."
I nod, shaking, and precariously climb into the window ledge. The tree seems so very far away. I whimper slightly. Taurin urges me forward, his voice hurried and strained, and I reach for the limbs, my hands white in the darkness. When I grasp a branch, I feel him pick me up and push me toward the tree, and I am finally in it, clutching the black trunk, terrified and staring at the ground below. Expertly, he climbs on after me, and, as soon as he does, the door is forced open, the couch pushed aside, and men run in. We see them through the open window.
"Christine!" A familiar voice calls my name, and I look into the room. Raoul is at the window, looking at me, and I stare back, disbelieving. A sudden movement from Taurin startles me. He has something in his hand, and it is pointed straight at Raoul's heart. Without knowing for sure what it is, but following what instinct tells me, I shriek and reach around my brother's shoulder, pushing his arm aside.
"Taurin – no!" I scream as a loud crack fills the air. Instantly, Raoul staggers away, an anguished shout coming from his lips. His white shirt is soon stained with a dark, black-looking liquid, and the men hurry to his side, shouting. Taurin turns and pushes me down the tree, his breathing fast and heavy.
My bare feet touch blessed ground, and I sink to my knees gratefully, shivering, but he pulls me up once more and drags me away from the house. A sudden light fills the night sky, and I turn to see that the house is on fire. There are shouts echoing through the blackness, but we do not stop until we have reached a quiet and covered area. It is then that Taurin turns to me, his face taught with fury.
"What have you done?" he hisses. I stare at him, feeling tears finally prick the corner of my eyes, and exhaustion prods me with its cold hand. Before either of us can say anything, a voice materializes from the darkness.
"Give her to me; I will take her to the hiding place and keep her there."
Erik seems to appear from the shadows. His mask shines brilliantly in the orange light. Taurin, his nostrils flared and his eyes cold, steps away from me and says nothing. Erik's long fingers curl around my arm.
"You know what to do?" he asks, and Taurin nods curtly. "Very well. Good luck."
"Come with me, Christine," Erik says, tugging me, and we turn into the black night. Taurin disappears, too, and for a while, all I see is the small, empty streets, and all I feel is Erik's hand and the stone against my feet. He does not slow his pace, and I am soon spent. I lag, feeling wretched and feverish, but Erik merely pulls me harder.
"We must not stop," are his only comforting words. I plod along, a stitch searing my side, my head pounding, and my legs aching. Not five minutes later, I gasp,
"Erik – Erik, I must stop – please."
"No," he says, running even faster. "We cannot."
I push my legs onward, but they will not go, and I fall on the ground, scraping my hands. My stomach reels, and I empty it on the side of the road, tears streaming down my face. Erik, however, seems quite unperturbed, for he quickly picks me up and continues along. I put my arms around his neck and sob, looking for unoffered comfort.
He does not slow his pace – he only seems to quicken it the farther we go. I have my face buried in his hard shoulder, soaking it with tears, and I do not care where we go. But when we arrive there, Erik sets me on my feet and bends down to look into my eyes.
"Christine," he says, his voice unbearably soft. "I know that you are scared and confused, but now is not the time for either of those. For one night, you must be strong. Tonight is not the time for questions or hysterics. Tonight is a time for silent strength. Will you do that for me?" One of his long fingers comes up to wipe away a falling tear, his cold skin soothing against my hot, flushed face.
I finally raise my eyes to meet his golden ones. Swallowing my tears, I nod, and his lips curl into something of a smile. He then takes off his coat and makes to put it over my face.
"I – " I say, pushing the jacket away, but his look is enough to silence me. I allow him to throw the jacket over me, obscuring my vision, and I feel him pick me up once again. It is not long to the destination; the building in which we enter is warm and good-smelling, and that strengthens me. I am set on a couch, and the coat is taken off.
The room is very small, very shabby, but clean. Five men are huddled close together, murmuring and looking at me. All have visible scratches and bruises. One is nursing his arm, which bleeds profusely. Amongst these men is Khan, who steps over to whisper with Erik. I shiver on the couch, and Erik carelessly drapes his coat over my lap. Gratefully, I wrap it around my shoulders for cover and warmth.
Not long after, Erik leaves. But I want him to stay. I want him to sit beside me and whisper something to make me feel better. I want him to play music for me. But Nadir Khan sits beside me and says,
"Are you hurt?"
I shake my head, staring at the opposite wall, my mind and body exhausted. Curling up in Erik's vast coat, I place my head on the armrest and am able to fall asleep.
When I am wakened, everyone is still there, still speaking quietly, and still bleeding. There are movements outside the door, and the men part to allow two more men to enter. The two – one of which is Erik – are carrying something between them, and I shift in my seat in order to look. It is Taurin, his eyes closed and his white face glazed with sweat. The cut lip has clotted, and the blood now looks black. His dark hair is plastered to his forehead, and, horrified, I watch as Erik gently removes Taurin's dark coat. Beneath it is a white shirt stained blood-red. Unable to help myself, I cry out and kneel by Taurin's side, placing a shaking hand on his hot cheek. He moans slightly and turns his head toward me. I look up at Erik, whose face is as unemotional as his mask.
"Is he going to die?"
There is a heavy pause, the silence broken only by Taurin's labored, uneven breathing.
"I don't know," Erik says.
My very blood chills, and I stare at my brother's handsome face. If he is taken from me – on top of everything that has happened – I know that I will be lost. And so I will make sure that he keeps breathing; I will watch him every minute of the day to see that his chest continues to rise and fall.
There is a hand on my shoulder. I know by the long, white fingers that it is Erik's.
"Come, Christine," he says quietly. "Khan will take you to a room. This is not a sight for you."
I say nothing and do not move but continue to stare at Taurin. Erik's grip tightens, and he pulls me slightly, repeating, "Come, Christine." I push his hand away, and I try to remain silent. I try to keep everything boiling inside, all my fears and anger.
But when I feel Erik pull me up, I instantly begin to writhe, shrieking hysterically as he literally drags me from the room. His arms are wrapped securely around me, but I make every effort to escape and return to Taurin's side. All of my frustration is coming out, and Erik takes it soundlessly. He takes us to another room, this one a bedroom, and stands in front of the door. I try to push past him, but he is immovable.
"I asked you," he says quietly, "for silent courage tonight, Christine. You have not followed my request."
Completely losing my senses, I pick up a candlestick and throw it at him. "You did not ask me for silent courage!" I scream. "You asked me to disappear – to stay out of the way! 'Oh yes, just be silent, Christine, and sit here while you watch your brother die! Ask us nothing, Christine, because you would not understand!' And you! You speak of a better life for all of us, but you do not know anything, and you will never know, because you are a man who hides behind a mask and cares for no one but himself! How dare you pretend to care for the people when you have never loved anyone, never cared about someone so deeply that – "
I go too far, for he moves suddenly, and I stumble into the wall as his flashing eyes bear down upon me.
"If we are to point fingers, Christine, I can play that game, too. But that's all you do, isn't it – play games and whine about yourself. You snivel and cower behind others and simply expect to be taken care of. Your constant moaning on your sorry behalf has given me more than enough headaches! There are people who have nothing and are stronger than you! Have you ever considered, Christine, that your life is not at all the tragedy you make it out to be? That it is a life that many would kill to live?"
His words sting – because they are true. To cover my tears, I rush at him and do something I have never done: I bring my hand up and attempt to slap him. But he does not allow that; he catches my wrist easily, and I, exhausted, lean into him, sniffling and feeling thick tears slide ceaselessly down my face. It is so unfair that he is right when I need to be. My stomach gives an unpleasant lurch, and I grimace, feeling the soft material of his shirt rub against my cheek.
I will tell him. It is one more burden to add, but, with time, I hope he can shoulder it. Swallowing harshly, I look up at him, opening my mouth to speak, but I fall silent. He is looking down at me with a most peculiar expression. I cannot read it. His golden eyes, I notice, have traveled down and are staring my lips. There is a tense silence.
"Are you going to kiss me?" I whisper, part of me hoping he will. He blinks once, and a slightly angry snarl comes to his lips.
"You need to sleep," he says, his voice curt. Suddenly, I am swept up, and he takes me to the bed before dropping me rather unceremoniously. My eyes ache with tiredness, but I continue to watch him. A thrill of terror runs through me as I call out,
"Erik, I must tell you something."
His sigh echoes around the tiny room. "What?"
Mouth dry, palms sweating, stomach flipping, I say, "I am expecting a baby."
He does not look at me and says evenly, "Very well." And then he leaves the room. Strangely enough, I do not cry myself to sleep.