Obsession Returned

Having found him, she felt more comfortable focusing on her food. The final two courses were a small tranche of pork accompanied by stewed apples, and a filet of beef with root vegetables. Louise ate everything given to her, with the exception of the beef because she was too full by the time it arrived. She didn't even bother with the dessert.

Her neighbor on her left ended up being quite an engaging conversation partner. Her name was Helene Grenbrook, and she was the wife of Professor James Grenbrook, who taught Ancient History at Tates College. Helene herself was also well-versed in history, though her focus was in art. She and Louise discussed the Cadilan painter Gallo, and then the Duss, a Feudalist painter from the region that had become Baslay. He was famed for his thematic depictions of the afterlife, which were far ahead of their time, and very disturbing. He was one of Helene's favorite painters.

Their conversation briefly touched upon music, but it came at the end of the meal, and when the musicians in the gallery above the banquet hall began to play, Louise turned a critical ear to hear them. Helene bowed out with grace, giving her a smile as she turned to speak with her husband.

It was a string quintet, and she recognized it as a piece of Hendrick's, an eutorman who had been repatriated in Galder some two-hundred years ago. She smirked, slightly ashamed of her true countrymen for their lack musical talent, at least as composers. The instrumentalists themselves were incredible, precise and jaunty at the same time. It was a dancing tune, and, as expected, the party-goers rose to dance.

Louise looked around excitedly. The first people to dance at these balls were always married couples or the newly engaged. After they set the mood, the bachelors would make the rounds to ask the women to dance. She had only been to one ball before this, as the Midwinter Masquerade at Glovehall had not been held for the past five years. Before that was the war, and before the war, she had just turned seventeen. At that, her very first ball, she had been asked to dance by three men. It had been overwhelming, and not very fun, as she had not felt very comfortable with any of the men.

She felt similar fear upon catching the eyes behind a few masks that passed her by. Even a man across the table from her was eyeing her with interest, and Louise knew instinctively that she did not want to dance with him. She looked away, turning to her father for support, but he was looking behind them.

The fully masked face of Laurier hung over them both. His head was bowed, but from his height, she could see his eyes--or at least the slits where his eyes looked out. She was sure he was looking at her.

"My lady, may I have this dance?" he asked.

Louise looked at her father, now maskless and wearing an interested expression. His brow was cocked as he met her eye. He would support her regardless of what she chose, but she had made her decision long before Laurier even asked.

"Yes, I would be delighted," she said, rising to her feet and taking his offered hand.

He didn't speak until they were away from her father, but he turned to her as he lead her to the dance floor. She could feel a smile hidden behind that mask.

"I had to be very quick," he said as they took their positions, their hands clasping one another while she held his shoulder and he her waist. They began to move in a slow step waltz in time with the music. "There is a line of suitors waiting to dance with you."

She had to hold back a grin, afraid that he would think her too eager. "I am glad you were able to reach me first. It is very rare that I meet anyone from my mother's country."

"Would you prefer we speak in lagais?" he asked.

"I am afraid I have forgotten some of my more complex vocabulary, but I would like to try."

Again she felt his smile. Maybe it was in his voice. "You sound perfect to me. It is very rare for a galderan to speak more than their own language. But as you are a musician, I should not be so surprised. Do you speak any other languages? Manori, perhaps?"

"Only musically," she said. Her smile faltered slightly. Everything seemed to remind her of Gerhard Erle. "I learned eutor during the war."

"A language I have no interest in learning at the moment," he said with a bite. So he had some experience with Eutorland like she had.

"Girard," she said, careful to pronounce it in the lagais way. "May I ask, what has brought you to this country?"

"My home in Rambourg was destroyed during the Eutorland invasion, and in the wake of the lagais government overturning, they have seized my lands in perpetuity for the public. Luckily, I had the forethought to move my wealth and assets into this country at the beginning of the war, and the compensation my government provided has allowed me to purchase an estate here in the countryside. I hope to become a citizen now that I have situated myself."

He wanted to become galderan? That was very contrary to the typical lagais. Before the war, there were no more bitter rivals than Galder and Lages. "Where have you decided to live?" she asked.

"Moorsfield," he said. "Do you know of it?"

"Yes, it is a beautiful place. When I was a child, we spent the summer holidays there at the estate of my father's colleague. Do you enjoy nature?"

"I do," he said. "But I think I will relish the privacy more than anything else. If you and your father should ever like to visit, I will, of course, make an exception."

Louise felt another blush light up her cheeks. It flustered her and made her switch to galderan again. "I would like that."

"I feel especially pleased with myself to have reached you first," he said in galderan as well. "Not only are you a genius, but you are also the most beautiful woman in the world."

Louise's face fell, but only a little bit. Her Gerhard--Gerhard Erle--had said the same thing to her. She wished it wasn't something that affected her, but it was involuntary. Unfortunately, Laurier noticed.

"Am I being too forward?" he asked. "I know you galderans are quite reserved. I hope I have not offended you."

She shook her head quickly. "No, not at all. I am unused to such kindness, but I am not offended. I only wish I could truly return the compliment, but your mask prevents it."

"Yes, I did not realize that the fashion here was to wear half-masks," he said. "When Simon told me about the event, I proceeded to find the most authentic mask I could find, imported from Viani. It is very beautiful, but I have caught more people staring at it with fear than awe."

"Fear?" she repeated.

"Perhaps it is my figure along with my lack of face," he said, shrugging. His hand on her waist slid up and down her side slowly, making her shiver slightly. "I can assure you, however, that your compliment is accurate."

Louise did not doubt him. He did not seem the type of man to boast needlessly. "Do you enjoy playing gerrick, or are the checks simply for decoration?" she asked, hoping to change the subject.

"Ah," he said, his voice dipping to a lower place that vibrated through her. "I love playing gerrique. Do you play?"

"I do," she said. "I am no expert, but I can beat my father."

He considered that for a moment, his mask revealing nothing. "Your father is a mathematician, so you must be excellent."

She didn't want to boast, but he was quite correct. If there was any ability that came close to her skill in pianoforte, it was guerrick. She loved the game, and more than that, she was a scholar of the game. "Would you like to play after the dancing is done? There is a board set up in the library."

He hummed, again sending that low sound through his body to hers. She felt shivers crawling through her again. "I would enjoy that. In half an hour, let's say? So that you can make your way through the suitors and back to me."

He switched to lagais again, that seductive quality returning ten-fold. Louise felt her jaw slacken in awe. Was this desire? Had she ever really felt it before now?

She had with Gerhard Erle. It was ironic that she should find it again with another Gerhard. A better Girard.

"Half an hour," she agreed, but she hadn't quite understood his meaning until he came to a full stop at the edge of the dance floor. An unfamiliar masked man stood there, waiting.

"May I have the next dance?" he asked, bowing. He was fully galderan and entirely disappointing.

"Forgive me, my lady," said Laurier. "I could be selfish and ask to have you to myself tonight, but I do not want to upset my future countrymen. Half an hour."

Louise agreed again and bid him farewell before taking the hand of the next man. The stranger introduced himself as Lewis Proctor and he led her through a clumsy five turns or so before the next man asked to dance with her.

Time passed slowly as she danced with three more men. With them, more than with Laurier, she took her father's advice and quickly forgot about them as soon as she met the next. They were all very pleasant and kind, but none of them could compare to him.

After the fifth dance, she begged the pardon of the next man who asked her to dance and went to join her father at the table. He was smiling, pulling her chair back to welcome her.

"Did you enjoy the dancing, my dear?" he asked.

"Yes, Father. Although I am very tired now." She leaned in closer to him, whispering so no one else could hear. "M. Laurier has asked to meet me in a few minutes to play guerrick."

"You should go," he said. "Give him a good thrashing. Show him who he's dealing with."

Louise bit her lip to hide a grin. "Should I try to win?"

He frowned slightly, surprising her. "Why wouldn't you?"

She shrugged. "I think he might be the type who doesn't like losing."

Her father was suddenly upset in a way that she hadn't seen since she was a misbehaving child. "Then you must beat him. Make him reveal himself before you form any sort of friendship or attachment. You don't want to be disappointed do you?"

"No," she said, thinking about Laurier. She hoped he wasn't the kind of man who would be upset with her for beating him.

"If my judgment is worth anything, I do not believe he will be such a man," said her father. It was as if he were reading her mind.

"I cannot say," she said. She rose, searching the banquet hall for Laurier, but he was nowhere to be found. "Will you come find me?"

"Yes, in a quarter hour. I don't think it should take you much longer than that."

Louise allowed herself a full grin this time, deciding she would thoroughly trounce Laurier, if only for her father's sake.

She was stalled by two more men who asked her to dance as she made her way to the library, but they were easily dismissed.Her eyes continued to dart about, searching for him as she approached, and then as she entered the library. There were many party-goers here: men gathered on sofas and armchairs drinking, two women by the window, both looking supercilious, a couple smiling at one another in the corner.

Laurier was nowhere to be found, however, and the table with the guerrick board all set up was empty. She took a set before the red pieces in anticipation. She was just early, she thought, even though it was exactly half an hour since they had parted.

"Miss Durham," said a man's voice. It was certainly a galderan, but she was so wrapped up in anticipating Laurier that she expected to see him when she turned around. Instead, she was faced by a maskless old man, a butler, and he carried a silver tray with a small letter on it. "A message has been left for you."

Louise looked at him like he was a monkey that had learned to talk. It took her a few seconds to recover from the shock. "Oh, yes, thank you."

She took the letter and the butler retreated silently into the main hall. The envelope was unsealed, but she could tell no one had removed the small note inside. Laurier's scrawl was a neat, tiny cursive, and he had written in lagais, ensuring that very few people attending the party could read it.

'Miss Durham, please forgive my absence. Simon has an obligation that has caused our early departure. With your father's approval, I would like to call upon you in the future. Hopefully, we can have our game of guerrique. With my most humble apologies, G. Laurier'

Louise reread the letter six times before it truly sunk in that he wasn't coming. The flood of disappointment was unexpected. She couldn't help but wonder if she had done anything to put him off, and he was just using his friend as an excuse not to meet her. He had left the dance floor very abruptly.

Her mind came back to the library, focusing on the space in front of her. Some of the men who were drinking were staring at her, as were the women by the window. She wondered what her face looked like.

She would bring the letter to her father. He would know what to make of it, and she was certain he would do some digging on M. Laurier before giving his permission for him to call on them. She turned on a heel, movements feeling stiff as she left the library.

As she made her way back to her father, she tried to imagine the face behind the mask. It sent shivers down her spine, remembering those black slits where his eyes should have been. The only person she could picture was her Gerhard.

Three:

The night was silent and maddening. Gerhard stared out of the warped window of his carriage, his point of focus a light from a street lamp in the distance. He had his driver--a loyal servant from home--stop the carriage far from any light, but one never knew who wandered city streets in the evening. As impressed as he was by Louise's father, he recognized that it would be easier if the Durhams had been idle landed gentry, living in the middle of a field somewhere, rather than their large townhome in Glovehall.

His body was still, filled with tension, eyes and ears straining for movement and sound. He had been waiting for about fifteen minutes, which wasn't a very long time in the grand scheme of things, but when he was waiting for his Louise to be delivered, it felt like a lifetime.

He never heard anything. It wasn't until a dark silhouette invaded the frame of the window that he was even aware of anyone approaching. The small skull just breached the bottom of the frame. Sparo was a slight man, a quality that lent itself well to his work.

"Open the door," he whispered harshly in manori.

Gerhard was not very familiar with the language, but the phrase was near enough to lagais to understand. He leaned over quickly, pushing the door open for the assassin, who carried Louise in his arms. The light from the street lamp just caught the side of her peaceful face as she slept.

He stepped forward to take her from Sparo. The two of them handled the transfer of weight carefully, delicate with her limp body. When he had her through the carriage door, Gerhard sat back, relishing her body as it settled against him. Her head shifted to rest upon his offered shoulder as she sighed sweetly. Gerhard's heart fluttered with joy. It had been two months since he last touched her, and six years since he fully held her in his arms.

Sparo signaled to the driver to depart, and the carriage shuddered to a start. They were well on their way before Gerhard took his eyes off of her. Sparo was lounging on the opposite seat.

"She is beautiful," said the manori in heavily accented eutor. Now that he was relaxed, he had more time to think of his languages. "Very easy to retrieve. The sommeil took effect as intended."

"Good," said Gerhard. He cradled her in his arms, smiling to himself. "You have a favor from me whenever you wish, my friend. I cannot thank you enough."

Sparo made a derisive noise. "For my friend? Your word is thanks enough. That, and the money. Who is this woman?"

"My companion during the war," he said. He didn't want to describe the intimacy of their relationship to Sparo. He wouldn't understand.

"You are a romantic," said Sparo. "I would not have expected that of you."

"Until I met her, neither would I," he said. "Were there any problems at all?"

"None, whatsoever. Their home is not well-protected. These galderans are so assured of the safety of their little island. I had thought your people had relieved them of such a notion, but it seems I was mistaken."

"Yes, but it is their softness that appeals to me," said Gerhard. "We could not have gone anywhere else after the war, could we not?"

"I suppose," said Sparo. "But you gave me very little choice in the matter." He settled back in the seat. "I will sleep now. You enjoy your woman."

Gerhard most assuredly would. He gathered her closer to him and kissed the crown of her head, breathing in her scent. He had always loved the smell of her, the naturalness. In Ayes Fort, he had made sure her soap was scentless, and her bathroom in Moorsfield was similarly stocked.

Louise reacted to the touch of his lips, sighing again and shifting in his arms. "Father?" she murmured, eyes never opening. Then she nestled into his chest again, asleep and silent.

Gerhard looked at the shadow where Sparo's face lay. "How long do we have until she wakes?"

"Hours," said Sparo. "She is not dead, my friend, but she will feel you holding her."

He looked down at Louise, a stray light from outside illuminating her peaceful face. He smiled when he saw it. His love had returned to him, at long last.

Sparo shifted in his seat. "We should have her drink some more when we reach Sturring. That should be enough to carry us through to Jerrwick."

Gerhard nodded, holding her closer as they both relaxed. It would be a long drive, and they would have to stop during the day in Jerrwick Town. Gerhard had arranged a safe house for them so that the horses could rest. Louise would have to be kept sedated until they reached Morriston.

He and Sparo kept quiet for the next few hours as the driver called down to them, indicating they had reached Sturring, a small farming village about a third of the way home. Gerhard propped Louise to sit up, caressing her head as she stirred and smiled in her sleep. His heart wrenched with joy as he helped Sparo to give her more water laced with the sleeping agent, sommeil. She drank it down greedily, the innate response to liquid in her mouth taking over.

It was a peaceful journey, The evening was quiet and unseasonably warm. Gerhard had covered Louise in the throw blanket stowed in the carriage, but his body heat was more than enough for the both of them. By the time they reached Jerrwick, he was feeling quite warm, in more ways than one. The sun was about to rise.

The innkeeper whom he had hired rooms greeted them in the street, assuring them their accomodations were ready and promising to stow their carriage and stable the horses. He had not expected a woman, but Gerhard mentioned how tired his wife was from the nighttime voyage, and the man didn't question it. He showed Sparo to his room first, and then asked if Gerhard would require two rooms for himself and his wife. Gerhard tried his best not to grin as he declined.

He laid her down on the mattress as gently as possible and covered her with a blanket. In her drug-induced state, she shivered slightly and curled up in the warmth without waking. Gerhard watched her with delight until Sparo came up behind him.

"More sommeil," he said, placing a small blue bottle on the morning table. "You know how much to give her. I shall sleep now. Call upon me if you have some need."

"Thank you," said Gerhard. "I'll try not to disturb you. Unless you'd like some food. I can order it for you."

Sparo considered this with interest. "In the afternoon, yes. But, will you not sleep?"

Gerhard let out a dark chuckle, his eyes still trained on Louise. "No, my friend. I think I'm too excited to sleep."

Sparo responded with a smile and left Gerhard and Louise to themselves. Once they were alone, Gerhard removed his clothes, folding them neatly on a chair by the fireplace. As she very well knew, he slept in the nude, proud of his body and the way she felt about it. He had caught her staring at him many times when he first had her.