Eternal Night

(II) Chapter 17: A Precarious Path

"It was selfish of me."

"Yes, perhaps in a way it was, but you were grieving as we all were; and unfortunately when loss hits this family, you seem to feel it more acutely than most," and he offered her a reassuring smile when her hold around herself tightened. "I know we've had this conversation before, but while I cannot speak for my son, I hope you know that I do not harbor any ill will toward you. None in the slightest. I told Cece not to go to Budapest, insisted that you and your brother were due to visit in a few short months, that you needed to hurt and heal on your own in the interim, but she would not listen to me."

"She was the only one who really understood what I was going through at the time," Frankie admitted. "Rémy tried to, but he's always been very much like Father was – sometimes pragmatic to a fault."

"Yes. Particularly where the affaires de coeur are concerned," he answered, a smile in his voice. "I assume your brother remains completely oblivious of Carmen's feelings for him?"

Frankie managed a small chuckle.

"Painfully so."

"Poor Carmen. That woman could harrow hell for him, and he still wouldn't figure it out."

"But it's only with her. If any other woman shows even the slightest interest in him, he picks up on it immediately. I sometimes wonder if my brother's ignorance stems from the fact that her late husband used to be his friend. Some stupid bro-code or the like..."

"It's very possible. Can you believe it's been nearly forty years since we lost Ramón?"

"I know. Where did that time go?"

"If only I knew... He was an excellent man."

"He was. And I know she misses him..."

"But she's been ready to move on for a while now."

"Exactly."

"I suppose the same could be said of you when it comes to Tristan," he pointed out, bringing the conversation back. "Your brother and I spoke for some time this afternoon about the progress you've made in the last year since he woke you from stasis. I received the distinct impression from his report that much of your mending may be owed to the influence of a certain Mr. Leinhart?"

Frankie said nothing on that point, opting to continue in her study of her aunt's grave marker, though her attention seemed somewhat beyond the masterfully engraved stone. Her expression was stoic, but Armand could see the very faintest of smiles starting to form in corner of her mouth.

"I know how deeply you cared for the werewolf, my dear; your beloved aunt did as well. She and I both understood the pain of losing his love. But it brings me joy to see you more yourself again."

"You know – for so long I thought my suffering had been borne out of that loss, but in the last year I've come to realize that it wasn't the sudden absence of Tristan's love or affection from my life that wounded me, but the reason for it. He didn't leave because he didn't love me anymore. He left because of the prophecy – because in his mind I already belonged to another man, as if I were someone else's property and he was infringing, as if he only had me on loan. It was like... if he couldn't own me in entirety, he didn't want me at all. I think that hurt more than anything else. That rejection, that feeling of being loved yet somehow worth less because of the mark on my breast."

Frankie absently lifted her hand to touch the dragon-shaped brand below her collarbone from behind the draped cowl neck of her blouse.

"It was the first time in a long time that I didn't feel like I was good enough for someone. That hurt more than anything else – the wound to my pride and my vanity – because he could have stayed with me in spite of it, he could have fought to keep at my side, but he didn't. At the first sign that another man had staked a claim on me, instead of staying to challenge that supposed claim, he turned the other way."