Page 48

The Dance of Death

The door creaked as élise opened it, its sound too loud in the quiet morning air.

She froze, her breath hitching at the sight before her.

Rollant’s hand fell away from his head, revealing the broad, scarred expanse of his bare chest. The early sunlight caught the fine hair running down his belly where his breeches buttoned.

For a moment, she thought she was dreaming again—his return, the day before, had been too surreal to trust.

He stirred and opened his eyes, breaking her trance.

Rollant rolled to sit and let out a groan as he rubbed his neck. He stopped upon seeing her in the doorway. He jolted up.

“Forgive me,” he stuttered, looking around the floor and finding his shirt. He stooped quickly and threw it over his head. élise could not look away from the soldier’s perfect body and left her to wonder about the scars that marred his skin. The soft fabric rolled down, and he adjusted it in haste.

She swallowed the lump in her throat as Rollant’s eyes met hers.

“You wear my shirt still?” he asked with a straight face and a neutral voice.

“Oh,” she said and looked down. She usually paraded around the house and slept in it instead of her chemise. “It is comfortable and . . . well, I’m so used to being alone here, I forgot you were here.”

He nodded, his lips tightening into a straight line. “I see,” he murmured, lowering himself to the sofa. His hands moved methodically, tugging on his boots, though his focus seemed somewhere far away. His jaw clenched as if to keep anything more from coming out.

He finished with his boots and walked past her to prepare a simple breakfast of bread and tea, and sat at the table. With a silent wave, he invited her to join him.

She fidgeted with the fabric around her thigh. She watched him, wondering what had happened to the man who had saved her from Gabin, who had offered her his home with a smile, and the man who had taken her to safety only the day before. The man before her was polite and curt at the same time.

“I apologize if I—” she began, but he interjected.

“I apologize for not rising before you, ensuring I was appropriately dressed, and having a meal ready for you.” His voice was monotone. He said all the right words, but somehow, their affection was stripped again.

“I’ve seen men more inappropriately dressed at the taverns,” she chuckled, though none of those men had a body like Rollant’s.

“And still, no one has ever made my meals before except for you.” Her voice trailed off at his lack of interaction and eye contact.

“I can change out of your shirt if you’d rather me not wear it. ”

He raised his eyes to meet her gaze. “As I’ve told you, it’s yours now,” he said. “Do as you wish with it.”

She sat across from him, a faint smile playing on her lips, though the unspoken tension lingered between them.

His attention returned to his food. She wondered if he was still upset at her involvement in Paris, so she asked. “Are you upset with me?”

“Yes, and no,” he nodded without looking up.

“Why?”

“You promised to stay in Charonne until the Estates-General adjourned,” he answered, his tone tight.

She placed her hands on the table and leaned forward. “And I did until the king dismissed Minister Necker. That was the end of it.”

Rollant shook his head, his brow knitting in frustration. “You could have been killed.”

“What did you expect me to do? Ignore the king amassing troops to take back the National Assembly?”

“Stay out of harm’s way like you promised,” he said.

Her cheeks grew red. “What do you care? You left, remember?” She pushed her plate away. “You discarded me like I was nothing.”

“I did not discard you,” Rollant said, slamming his hand down. “I wanted you to build a life here, élise!”

“I can’t build a life here when Paris burns a few steps away,” she yelled, standing up.

“Yes, you can.” His tone was more restrained. “You chose to go into the city. You chose to incite the people. I’m sure you even helped plan yesterday’s actions.”

“And why were you there, Rollant? Were you not supposed to be on a ship? How did you leave the ship, return to the mainland, and come to Paris? All in a day? Just for me?” She crossed her arms.

He stopped eating, lofted an eyebrow, and averted his gaze. “I—I told you?—”

But she cut him off before he could answer. “More secrets . . . landlord.”

His eyes shot to hers.

“Who told you that?”

“Does it matter if it is true?” She leaned back as he stood and stepped closer to her. Her belly knotted at his approach. She stiffened. Her body recoiled from instinctual fear, but her mind soothed it. Even though Rollant was a mystery, she knew he would never raise a hand to her.

But she was angry and had a right to be. “So you are at least a member of the bourgeoisie , if not the nobility, Monsieur Rollant de Montvieux. Did you leave me because I am beneath you? Did you stop me at the Bastille to keep your privileges over us?”

He leaned into her space, locking eyes with her. Her knees weakened at his intensity.

“Do you believe that?” he gritted.

She licked her lip, remembering the gash and his touch there, her first in Charonne. If he thought she was beneath him, he would have taken what he wanted from her and then left. Her shoulders slumped, knowing the answer. “Then why did you leave?”

He leaned back and sighed. “I already told you. Would you want a life with me, knowing you’d only see me a few days out of the year for the rest of your life?”

Her arms flew to her sides. “But you own this land. You don’t collect rent, so I assume you don’t pay taxes, which means you are nobility. You could stay here.” It didn’t matter if he was nobility, though she hated the Second Estate. He was different. He cared about her, she was sure.

He grumbled and muttered, “I didn’t know about the land until after I signed my life away to His Majesty’s Navy. I am not nobility anymore, though I have the name and must work to pay the land tax.”

Her heart sank. Part of her sensed deception, but maybe it was regret. Either way, she wanted him with her. She stroked her arm, clawing through every solution to let him stay. “Well, didn’t the National Assembly declare all taxes illegal? You wouldn’t need to pay taxes anymore. You could stay.”

A gleam came over his eyes. His fingers grazed hers, trembling for a fraction of a second before he withdrew them. “I’m not even supposed to be here. They pulled us off the ship because of the rampage in the streets?—”

Again, he brushed her aside, and she was tired of his lack of answers.

“Then where is your uniform?” She nodded to his civilian coat on the sofa’s arm.

His shoulders rose and left her question unanswered. Deception flashed in his eyes.

She had him; she had caught him in a lie. What was he hiding from her?

“As I said, I’m not supposed to be here.” He gathered the empty plates in a clatter. “Promise me, you’ll stay out of the city.” His back was to her as he walked to the counter to wash the dishes.

“I can’t make that promise,” she said, folding her arms across her chest. More secrets he refused to tell. More deflection.

“Shots have been fired, élise. Men have been killed. It will never be the same. If the crown is abolished, tyranny will rule until stability sets in. Please stay out of the city; stay safe.”

He threw the plates down. Droplets flung from their edges. He spun around. “Please do not speak to anyone about your beliefs, especially in this turmoil; you don’t know which side will win and what enemies you may make.”

“We already won,” she said. “Remember yesterday at the Bastille?”

He shook his head. “You won the first fight, and if they happen to abolish the crown, a new king of sorts will rule and kill anyone who threatens his reign.”

“No,” she said, shaking her head. “We all want the same thing: freedom from hunger.”

“What if Gabin is given a prominent position in the new order? Do you think he will let you live just because you have the same ideals?”

She could feel the crack of Gabin’s fists strike her jaw, reliving his abuse. It froze her belly, and she pulled her arms tighter across her chest, as Rollant continued speaking.

“And if the king somehow takes back his authority and re-establishes his regime, you will be tried and executed for treason,” he said, again stepping closer to her. “No matter who wins, there will be so much death, so much blood. I have seen it!”

She let out a frustrated sigh. He was trying to scare her, to control her without bruises. “Where have you seen all of this wisdom play out, Rollant? In the Americas? We are the French. It is different here.”

He shook his head. “Do you remember King Henry III? War between Catholics and Protestants left millions dead. It is no different now: Catholic versus Protestant or Royalist versus Revolutionist.”

élise squinted her eyes in defiance and dug in her heels. “If you are not for us, you are against us.”

“That is not true,” he said.

“You speak of treason against the revolution.”

“élise, stop.” He approached her with pleading eyes.

“I trusted you. I cared for you. I loved you.” She backed away. Her voice faltered. “But all you do is keep lying to me.”

His hands found her shoulders, his grip firm but gentle. “I am trying to show you the danger of your path. Can’t you see that?” he asked. “I don’t want to see you hurt again, but it is your life, élise. I have no claim to it.”

Her heart warred with her mind. She didn’t want to see his face twisted with worry, but she couldn’t let him control her, even if through pleading and not force. She shoved his hands off. “You want to keep me safe, but I’m willing to die for this. You are not!”

His eyes narrowed as he shouted, “I would give anything to d—” His voice trailed off. His hands balled into fists. He rubbed his forehead and swallowed hard. With his tone much softer, he said, “You don’t know what you’re saying, élise.”