Page 53 of Sanctifier

“You,” she said, unthinking.

A self-satisfied smirk appeared at the edge of his mouth.

“Not likethat,” Ru added, “I mean… These parties. What are we doing, Hugon? How does this contribute to my control of the artifact? It seems aimless, frivolous. Are we waiting for something?”

“Why would you assume that everything is about the artifact?” Lord D’Luc replied, reaching for a pale strawberry. Even in Mirith, the fruit was out of season. The lace of his shirt fell back as he bit the strawberry, revealing a pale wrist. Ru thought she saw a discoloration there, perhaps a bruise, but he lowered his hand, watching her intently.

“With you, everything is about the artifact.”

“Is it, indeed?” he asked, tilting his head. He had worn his hair loose that morning, soft golden waves caressing his cheekbones as he spoke. “If you claim to know so much, why ask?”

Ru sat quietly for a moment. She could lie, say some lighthearted half-truth, and turn the conversation away from her. But as she met the lord’s cool gaze, searched the eyes that had so often reveled in her misery, she couldn’t stop herself.

“Because I’m here now,” she said, her words raw and honest. “I’ve shown you that I’m willing. I have no other option. Can’t you see it? No part of me is intact. The Ru who defied you back at the Tower, she’s gone. So be honest with me.”

Another strange expression passed over Lord D’Luc’s face for a breath of a moment. He seemed to have gone momentarily inward and found something lacking there.

“You’re a woman of intellect,” he said after a long moment. “What my lady asks of me, I provide. Do you believe that I, Hugon D’Luc, make any meaningful decisions in this place?”

Ru swallowed, struck silent by his words. Had she ever seen such clarity in his face before, she wondered, such honesty? “No, I…”

“For someone so adept at unraveling theorems, I would have thought you understood by now.” He rested his chin on folded knuckles, never breaking Ru’s gaze. “I do these things, Delara, I take you from party to party, I discuss philosophy and religion and science with you, because I have been instructed to. Don’t presume to imagine that I enjoy it.”

At a loss for words, she scrambled for some pithy response. And for some reason, in the face of this new Lord D’Luc, the man whose careful facade had slipped, she desperately wanted to be faced with the old version. The version of the man she understood, the cruel, science-minded lord with jeweled fingers and sapphire eyes. The man who had broken her.

But this was not a man she knew. This was a man who was bruised and tired, dark-eyed in the morning light. She didn’t know how to speak to him. He seemed almost as much a prisoner as she was.

“I want to go,” Ru said softly.

“Where?” he asked, slinging one arm over the back of his chair. Already, the curtain was falling back, his smile returning. “Where do you suppose you’ll go that will bring you peace?”

Ru took a shaking breath. “I don’t know.”

Then he sighed, stood up, and offered her a hand. “I tire of you, Delara. I’ll escort you to your rooms. And don’t think for a moment that this conversation changes anything between us.”

Of course not, Ru thought bitterly. It was impossible to know his motives, his desires. And so, despite that brief moment of honesty between them, she still knew nothing at all.

Distant music carried through the corridor as they walked back to Ru’s rooms, a quiet melody that made her want to stop and listen. But the lord’s gait was swift, and as they approached her wing of the palace, the music faded quickly, swallowed up by the clatter of courtiers’ slippers on marble, of laughter and chatter, the echo of a door closing. Ru fixated on her shadow next to Lord D’Luc’s, disappearing and reappearing on the floor as they passed a row of windows.

“You’re worrying,” said Hugon, the first thing he’d said since they left his rooms.

“I’m not.” Ru felt right in contradicting him, even if his observations were astute.

“You are,” he said. “There is a tightness at the corners of your mouth. A small divot between your brows. And your vice-like grip on my arm speaks volumes.”

Ru relaxed her fingers. “How lucky I am to be the subject of your constant scrutiny.”

The lord chuckled, patting her hand as if comforting a child. With the sunset framing him, Ru couldn’t get a good look at his face. For a moment he was nothing but a shadowed silhouette. A suggestion, the shape of a man — and even then, she relaxed knowing he was back. The Hugon D’Luc she knew, the man she understood, an unwanted yet reliable constant in her life.

“There is a ball tonight,” he said after a moment. “You’re expected to attend.”

“A ball?” Images of the Children spinning emotionlessly on a dance floor invaded her mind, and she almost laughed. “Why?”

They had come to Ru’s rooms now, and Hugon turned to face her, his expression no longer hidden in shadow. He smiled, all teeth and mirthless beauty. “Why not? Surely, you’re not above a night of music and dancing. The Keeper of His Heart could use a little fun.”

“Will Lady Bellenet be there?” Ru asked.

Lord D’Luc only smiled, his cheek dimpling. “Be ready at nightfall. Your godly escort will be waiting.”

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