Rise of a Queen

Chapter 43

    Only silence followed the Count's exit.

    Neither Lumiere or I had a plan for this outcome. Previously, we assumed we would either be successful and return to California to retrieve the rest of the ingredients for the Council, or we would be killed at the hands of the very men we were trying to protect Dustin from.

    But we did not expect to be kept alive. It was an obvious result, one we should have prepared for. And I can only blame myself because my own foolishness brought us to this end. I truly believed the Count would find reason in my plea and heal me. It was a simple agreement, there was no room for error on either end. If we had just worked together, all of this would have been resolved.

    Isolation, imprisonment, and a slow death is what I deserve for being so stupid, for being so blindly naive. I thought, deep down, below the psychosis and instability, perhaps there was a shred of decency left in Count Marx.

    I was wrong.

    And now I have doomed us all.

    I could not look at Lumiere, I was far too ashamed to be the one he had to spend his final moments with, "We are in a lot of trouble ... aren't we?"

    He was still staring at the door, knife in hand although there was no might in his grip. I couldn't be sure what he was thinking, but the Count's last words hung in the air like smog. Lumiere was worried, about all of us, but he had no way to protect those he cared about. Because he was locked in here, with me; the diseased failure who honestly thought she could change fate by walking straight into a den of starving wolves.

    "Yes." Lumiere eventually answered, so quietly I wasn't sure he had spoken at all, "I think we are."

    "Do you think ..." Was it dumb to ask? Yes, of course it was. But still, I wanted to hear his response. For my own sake, because I was seeking senseless closure, "Do you think we helped? Or," My throat closed and my voice trembled, "Or do you think we just made things worse?"

    Again, he was silent for a long time. He was probably wondering the same exact thing, but the answer he decided in his mind was not the same as what he admitted out loud, "I think we did the best we could."

    I slumped farther into the floor and I hopelessly wished that the mildew of this godforsaken room would somehow hasten my demise so that I may be free of this crushing guilt, "I am so sorry, Lumiere."

    He eased himself down beside me and jammed the knife between two floorboards so that it would stand straight up. It was a single weapon, one so small and inadequate against guns, but Lumiere knew he could use that lone knife to overthrow the world.

    If only he had the chance.

    "Don't be sorry, sweetheart." His arm slid around my shoulders and tucked me close. He rested his chin atop my head and squeezed me snugly against him, "If anyone should apologize, it should be me. It's my fault Marx was able to make you give up the ingredients, if I hadn't been captured you would have told him to stick it where the sun don't shine."

    I closely inspected his neck through my filling eyes, "Are you okay?" He nodded, but that small movement brought forth another trail of blood that snaked down his already stained neck. If we still had his scarf, I could at least hold pressure to stop the bleeding. But we had nothing; just ourselves and a useless knife, "Try not to move. The bleeding will slow down as long as you keep still."

    He braced his head against the wall to aid in preventing movement, "No problem, it sounds like I will have more than enough time to sit still."

    I scooted closer to his side and hid my face in his chest so he wouldn't have to see me cry. But my irregular breaths were soon accentuated by sniffles and sobs, and it wasn't long before my cries grew loud enough to impede the silence of our imprisonment.