Page 89 of Angel's Mask

“You far too kind, Raoul,” Christine muttered as she took in the fine leather and wood that encased them.

“As I said, I’ve been waiting for weeks to speak with you; this is the least I can offer.” Christine looked down at her hands; gloveless, fiddling with the edge of a cloak an unscrupulous man had placed on her shoulders.

“Why would you waste time on the likes of me?”

“Did you not receive my letter?” Raoul asked back. Christine cheeks grew warm and hoped he would think she was blushing because of him, and not from the memory of what her false angel had done to her after she had read that letter. The memory of Erik’s voice and how it had affected her made fear twist in her stomach. If she were to go back, could he do that again? Would she want that? Did she have the strength to refuse?

“I...I’m sorry I didn’t write back. I was very busy.”

“I meant what I wrote, my darling Christine, my heart has always been yours. It still is.”

She looked into his handsome face and sincere eyes. He was the second man in as many days to confess he loved her. And it was just as terrifying as when Erik had said it.

“You can’t love me, Raoul,” she whispered. “You don’t know me. Not who I am now, not really.” He would not say such things if he knew sins she had committed at the command of a false angel.

“But I do,” Raoul protested, taking her hands again. “I’ve loved you for years. And when you sing, it’s the most beautiful thing in the world. It’s magic and it’s magnificent. I know it’s meant to be a show but, I saw your heart when you were on that stage and I...fell in love again.”

She wondered what her face looked like, based on how worried Raoul’s expression became. She was sure he had meant it as praise, as a passionate confession to win her at last. But it only reminded her of why she had sung with such heart.

“Would you love me if I couldn’t sing?” she asked softly. Perhaps there was a chance. Perhaps this was their escape.

“Christine, you would not be you if you didn’t sing,” he said, touching her cheek. “Your father must be looking down on you with such pride. Surely the angel of music has blessed you indeed, just like your father promised.”

Christine shut her eyes, surprised she had tears left, and fought back a sob.

“Oh, Christine, I’m so sorry, I have upset you!” Raoul exclaimed.

Christine did not fight it when he pulled her into his arms, wrapping her in a brother’s embrace as he stroked her hair. “Raoul...” she whispered. “There is no such thing as an angel of music.”

Immediately, Raoul pulled back, tilting her chin so he could look into her eyes. “My darling Christine, don’t say that.”

“But he’s not an angel!” Christine sobbed, completely bewildering Raoul. “The reason I can sing! The reason I am anything: he’s just a man!” Raoul’s face was worried and pale, and perhaps even sad.

“Are you talking about the man who was speaking to you, after the gala?” Raoul asked carefully. “I heard him, in your room. Telling you the angels wept.”

“You were listening at my door?” Christine’s stomach fell. “Why—”

“He’s your teacher, this man?” Raoul pressed on.

“Yes, that was him,” Christine stammered. What else had he heard that night?

“And you thought he was...an angel?” Raoul asked slowly, which made it sound even more insane.

“I—” Christine bit her lips, pulling away from Raoul’s arms. “No. That would be madness, I know. I just thought that he had been sent by heaven until the other night.”

“How do you know he was not?” Raoul asked, guileless and expectant. Christine blinked. “This teacher, he seems to have inspired you and guided you. Is that not what you wanted?”

“It was,” Christine answered slowly. There was no question that Erik had done everything she had ever dreamed an angel might, and so much more. “He saved me and taught me. He promised me all of Paris and he delivered it.” The sound of applause rang in her ears again, and she remembered the magnificent feeling of singing her soul out to him.

“That sounds like a blessing to me, even if it came in the guise of a man,” Raoul offered, looking sheepish. “While I do not approve if this man has made advances and will not reveal himself. Or if he’s upset you. But I don’t think a human’s mistakes should be a reason to lose your faith. God works in strange ways, and great miracles can come in the most unexpected of places. At least that’s what I believe.”

Christine stared at Raoul, her mind reeling. She thought back to arriving at Opera for the first time, seeking the shelter of the stables. If Erik had not been there at that exact moment, her life would be so different. She might not even have a life. How could such a moment of random chance have changed everything? Unless it was not random.

“You think God sent him to me? Or my father?” Christine asked, something strange taking hold in her heart.

“Who else?” Raoul asked with a lop-sided smile.

Christine heaved a breath, looking out to the Opera as they slowed to a stop at the subscribers’ entrance where theRue Aubermet theRue Scribe. For the first time in two days, she felt something like hope, and yet it made her even more confused than before. A tear escaped down her cheek.

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