Caged

Chapter II

I spoiled myself before I met you, believe me. I went to Egypt the first time I left Malta and bought as many things as I could. I was young and bold, and used my magic in exchange for gifts.

There was a man who always attended church. He was handsome and wore clothes that looked clean and new, well tailored and fitted. As Avalyn entered the church, she saw him there early, kneeling down at a pew and pressing his forehead against his clasped hands. He was bowed down at the seat with the windows behind him. It rained outside, but the gray light that reached him allowed her to view him. She watched him for a moment as she slowed her pace to the choir above the pews. But when it seemed she had drunk in enough detail of him, he looked up, looking directly at her. Avalyn had thought she had made no noise. Avalyn could only smile forcefully and continue her way down the aisle.

People had talked about him before. It was rumored that he never aged. They sometimes called him “The Count of Wrennes,” granting him aristocracy with his rich appearance and long life. Whoever was alive the longest got their own title.

He stood up after a few minutes and looked ahead towards the front of the church. He then left his pew, went down the aisle to the front of the church, and sat in the second row. Casually, he glanced up behind him.. He looked younger, older than her brothers but much younger than her own father. His eyes and hair were dark. His suit was very formal, and his hat was in his hand. He looked different than the others in Wrennes , but she could not place why. He smiled up at Avalyn, and their eyes caught. Avalyn raised her hand to wave, and he waved back.

She watched the congregation over the railing as much as she could while singing, but couldn't see where the Count was. When she finished, there was no applause, as normal, and she stepped back into the choir. Avalyn had never been a good judge of her voice--she just knew that she was good at singing and people liked to listen. But she could never tell when she did well and when she didn't. She could feel her stomach drop as she thought about the Count below and what he might have thought of her singing.

Father Logan’s voice rose and fell from the ceiling. Avalyn leaned forward onto the railing and watched him, but her eyes always went to the back of the Count’s head.

“‘Let each of you look not only to his own interests, but also to the interests of others,’” Father Logan spoke on, and Avalyn’s eyes blinked and looked back at him.

“Mademoiselle Gilden, you sounded beautiful today.” Guinevere spoke to her at the end of the end of mass. Her husband had come up the steps to see the choir and was standing beside her, smiling at Avalyn. "I'll have to match up to you next week.”

"Thank you, Madame." Avalyn returned the smiles but felt awkward and small. Avalyn had always listened to her since she had been at the church, and still looked up to her.

Many mingled as they left the church. Most talked about their families with their eyes toward the door of the church, their voices quiet and unsure when they talked.

The crowd wasn’t too thick, but Avalyn saw a hand reach up and remove a hat. Avalyn watched him and he looked up, just as he had when she had first entered the church. He smiled at her and waved, just as he had before.

"Mademoiselle Gilden! May I speak with you?"

Avalyn looked down at him from the railing. She drew back and tried to look for a reflection so she could check herself. Her eyes caught the gleaming metal of the aspersorium for the choir, but her reflection was distorted in a pale and dark mirage. She descended the winding stairs. He stood only a few feet apart from her when she reached the floor.

"Mademoiselle Gilden,” he said as he gave a slight bow. “I wanted to compliment your performance.”

His eyes were still just as dark as she had seen them from the balcony, nearly black, and she could not distinguish the color. He was as tall as her brother Brandon, but she could not compare his features to either of her brothers or father. He was symmetrical. His smile was unwrinkled.

"Thank you, Count." Avalyn bowed her head, feeling warm and glad.

"Count? Is that what they're calling me now?" He frowned. “I am not of the aristocracy. There is nothing in my blood that binds me to it. Although, that isn’t the worst rumor I’ve heard.”

“What other rumors?”

“Someone said once that I was a discounted priest, and I’ve heard recently that I eat hearts. It’s very discourteous, but I can also find a sensational story entertaining.” He reached up to tug his collar, smoothing out the corner. She watched his fingers pinch the cloth, and they were so pale and smooth, the textures seemed to blend together, and she lost sight of the difference between them.

“Once again, congratulations, Mademoiselle Gilden.”

“Thank you, Monsieur.” He nodded to her before he walked out the door. It was only then that Avalyn noticed that his footsteps echoed. She had not noticed that everyone had left while she had spoken to him.