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And Yet They Shine

Chapter 10: Restraint

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Edward led Bella to the throne room. Outside, there was a long queue of people, well, souls, really, seeking an audience with their new king. He climbed the steps to the throne – large, long, marble steps, that made Bella think of a courthouse – and then picked the golden crown that lay on the seat. He placed it carefully upon his head, and sat upon the throne.

Bella watched him from the side of the room, uncertain whether she should occupy the throne that was to the left of Edward, or if she should simply stand in the corner. A moment later, a shade came to her, carrying a large, comfortable looking chair, made of wood and padded with velvet.

"My lady?" He gestured her toward the seat, and so Bella sat. The soul then went to Edward, who spoke quietly to before making a motion with his hand. The shade turned and opened the door, allowing in the first ten souls in line.

Edward watched Isabella as he worked. He saw as she leaned forward, intent on hearing this plea or that. She'd cock her head to one side, listening, deciding, and he could tell by the way her brow puckered or smoothed whether she agreed with his decision.

She did not often agree with him.

After the first host had passed through his hall, he summoned Isabella to his throne.

"Well, what do you think so far?" He tried to give her his best smile, perhaps to dazzle her into thinking that his job was not the trudgery that, in reality, it was.

"I'm not sure I understand," she said. "You never really give them what they want, and, well, they're already dead. Can't you be…nicer?"

Edward yearned to sigh at her naiveté. He wanted her grasp, easily, the complications of giving the dead their wishes: should he allow the earth to be overrun with the souls of the dead? She he let this one visit his grieving wife, or that one her weeping mother? How long before there was no barrier between the dead and living? And who would help the living fulfill their duties – to live – if they were constantly pulled into dreams by the dead?

"It is not so simple," he said.

And then he explained to her why, and he believed that she listened.

When he was done, he motioned to the page again, and he brought forth another host of ten, and then another, and then another.

"There are so many," she said, as Edward broke and came to her side.

"Yes. As your world grows, so does mine."

"You must be weary – all those decisions to make."

Edward smiled, and it was indulgent. "Weary? Pet, I am immune such…human failings."

"Oh."

Isabella stood, looking at her feet, her long, dark hair making a curtain about her face. Edward knew in a moment that he'd said something wrong. He motioned to the page again, and then brought his hand to Isabella's face.

"Does it pain you to know that we're so different?"

Isabella shook her head, but would not meet his gaze.

"I know it's hard to imagine right now, but if you stay with me, you would change. You would become...like me."

"I would be a god?"

Edward cocked his head, smiling at her. "You would be immortal."

"Oh."

As she considered his statement, the shades arrived with a repast. There were cheeses and meats and fruits, pastries that made Bella's mouth water with the looking. She found herself gazing at the food, and wishing she had more of a hunger than she did.

"Please," Edward said, pulling a cushion up and folding his long legs beneath him. "Join me for a meal?"

Isabella sat beside him, and considered the meal. She watched as he piled her plate high with delicacies that both looked and smelled delicious, but noticed that he only took a small serving of food for himself.

"You're not eating," she said, staring down at her plate.

"I don't need to," he answered. "But I do enjoy the ritual of it – the breaking of a fast, and of course the flavors, the aroma."

He held a strawberry before her and then dipped it into cream and sugar.

"This is my favorite," he said, offering her the plump berry.

But Bella shook her head.

Instead, she watched him as he ate, taking a small bite of this or that, his moans of pleasure lighting a hunger within her that had nothing to do with food.

"Is this not to your liking?" Edward asked, after sighing over a bit of roast beef.

"No! It's lovely, really. I guess I'm just not that hungry."

"Won't you try a bit? For me?"

Isabella looked over her plate. There were chocolate creams and charred fowl, herbed vegetables gleaming with butter, and cheese that looked rich and creamy. There was wine in a golden goblet before her, and Edward frequently took sips from his own glass, each time tilting it toward Isabella in a sign of invitation.

At last, she setting on a cluster of dark red berries that seemed to glow with light from within. She'd never seen a food so pretty before, and she was curious about their flavor. Would they be sweet? Tart? Bitter?

She brought one to her mouth, and felt its smooth shape with her tongue. It was small and firm. She finally pressed it against her teeth, and the flavor burst upon her tongue – sweet and tart and bitter, all at once. There was a small seed in the middle, which she swallowed easily.

As the seed made its way down her throat, she found that craved more; she wanted wine and meat and mead, honey and sweets, and most of all, more of those strange, delicious berries. She cautioned herself not to be a pig; her mother had always told her to be cautious of a generous host.

She took two more of the seeds into her mouth, closing her eyes to relish their strange flavor.

When she opened her eyes and looked up, she found Edward staring at her, the smile on his face beatific.

Isabella's hand fell from her mouth, food forgotten.

"What is it?"

Edward rose, then came around to her side. He lifted her as though she weighed a feather , all the while smiling at her – at her – as though she was the most precious, most beautiful woman in the world.

"Isabella," he whispered, his fingers caressing her column of her neck, his thumb grazing her cheek. "Mine. You are mine."

His mouth came to rest upon hers, and in that moment, she found herself floating, falling, the kiss consuming her in a daze of heat and fire that never burned. Her fingers found the silk of his hair and her body pressed against him, arching and stretching, trying to climb inside of him, to see if he could quench the fury in her blood.

Edward, however, broke the kiss. He leaned his forehead against hers, his mouth breathing pants of warm breath against her lips.

"Mine."