Heart of Stone (15 page)

He stepped away from her kneeling pose. Cozette’s eyes now implored him, desperate to understand whatever he possibly meant. She knew he wanted her to rage against him, he wanted to be punished. To be held accountable for his misdeeds. Cozette shook her head, knowing she couldn’t be his penance.

“I am telling you about her now because I need her forged heart. I need her because her chest holds the final stone for the
Trésor de L’espoir
. I am looking for her now so I can carve out her heart before she dies, and claim what is mine.”

His disgust in himself was evident. He snarled his lips and narrowed his icy eyes as if it hurt him to speak these words. Cozette saw this, and cared little for his fierceness, for his ravaged self-loathing. She cared not for the personal atrocities against her, she cared not for the seventeen and eleven twelfths of a year he had lied to her.

She cared not for Marcus’s pain.

All this queen cared for was the hope of finding her child.

This queen, at her core, was a mother.

A mother who never met her child.

She would find her.

23.

Henri

Village de Provence, Gemmes

Henri loved that girl. He always had.

He loved the way she didn’t fret like the ridiculous girls at school. He loved the way she always remembered to cuss at inappropriate times. He loved the way she was brave in ways he wasn’t.

They became friends when they were young and he couldn’t remember a time they weren’t together. That is what made her leaving so hard and hurt so bad.

After she left, he found himself walking to her mother’s house, standing outside the door longing for her. He thought himself pathetic, but that isn’t the right word, really.

He was lost.

Later, when he brought by fresh loaves of bread for Sophie’s mother, Francesca smiled gently, reminding him that Sophie would return in time. “Some people need to sow wild oats before they can be firmly planted on solid ground,” she had told him.

Henri imagined Sophie rolling her eyes at Francesca’s analogy, noticing the correlation to Henri the Baker. The idea of her scowling caused him to smile.

She hadn’t left for long. In the grand scheme of the universe that was such a small fraction of time, but that doesn’t mean much to a boy whose proposal was rejected, whose heart had been crushed.

A smarter man wouldn’t have suggested marriage and children to her. He would have waited for Sophie to make the next move after their first kiss, but she never did. Henri took that as a sign that she, in fact, wanted him to make his own declaration of love.

She hadn’t, apparently.

Now with her gone, Henri was bored with what was left of his quiet life. So when the King’s Légion rode into town as Henri left the
boulangerie
for the night, he was curious. With his apron slung over his shoulder, and his cap balanced on his head hiding the hot afternoon sun; he watched. As the men descended in his sleepy town, he moved closer to them.

The cavalry of five horsemen stopped authoritatively. They drew upon the village square, discussing something amongst themselves. Henri was close to them, but not close enough to hear. He walked over, wanting to know what brought them here. A crowd quickly gathered, it wasn’t only Henri interested in understanding what brought representatives of the king to their town. It was rare to see anyone from the Palace Royale in their valley.

A man dressed in fine clothes with the crest of
Gemmes
across his chest, made an announcement to the gathered crowd, loud and clear. A waving flag flew overhead, marking them as the King’s Légion. It was no question on whose authority these men had ridden here.

“We are soldiers for the King’s Légion, on official business for the Palace Royale.” His voice loud and clear, causing everyone to huddle closer together.

Henri watched Francesca walk to the street, standing next to his own mother. Old classmates from school surrounded him; anxious to know what business these men had.

“We are here with one purpose, and one purpose alone. We are here looking for any girl who is seventeen years of age. If you are,” the man commanded, “you must present yourself before the village square for an inspection. We’re looking for one girl. Anyone who fits the age requirement will be interviewed with their mother.” When no one moved a muscle, and stood listening to him in confusion, he answered the silence.

“Immediately!”

The girls standing with Henri were wide-eyed and terrified, mouths agape. A buzz of excitement circulated at once as a dozen girls or so began to separate themselves from the crowd. The young boy next to Henri left to fetch his sister from the field and get the other girls who were working.

Henri’s mind raced with one solitary thought.

Sophie.

Henri whipped his head toward Francesca. He knew then that she was thinking the exact same thing. Sophie had gotten herself in trouble. Not here, but somewhere and the king was looking for her.

He ducked, letting his cap cover his eyes, not wanting to be noticed. Noticing him would remind him Sophie was missing. They had always been together. He didn’t want anyone going after Sophie if she had done something bad. His heart raced as he imagined the trouble she must have gotten herself in, drawing a search party by the king.

He swam through the crowd, and saw the backs of the two mothers walking away, quickly.

“Francesca,” Henri said, breathlessly, catching up. “Do you…?” he began, but he stopped after seeing tears in the woman’s eyes.

His mother shook her head at him, urging him to be quiet. He looked at her confused, and kept talking, “Do you think they are looking for Sophie? Should we…?”

“Shush, Henri. Let us go to the house and talk. Not here,” his mother whispered.

Henri followed the women as they discreetly walked away from the crowds, back to his home and the tidy kitchen where his mother began a kettle of water. The friendship between these women had begun when Sophie and him crawled on the floor, learned their first words. They had a silent language passed back and forth, across the kitchen. Henri let out a moan, exasperated by the silence.

“Seriously, what is going on? Do you think we should find her? Do you think they are here for her?” Henri bit his nails in worry.

“I think that talking to anyone is out of the question,” his mother said, lifting the curtain to see if the Légion was coming near. “It would be asking for trouble. We don’t need that. Besides, they could be looking for a girl for any number of reasons.” His mother set two mugs of tea on the table. Henri noticed she purposefully didn’t include him in the afternoon tea party.

“Of course they’re here for her,” Henri said, gaining courage. “A seventeen-year-old girl? Wanting to talk to their mother? Something must have happened, maybe she figured out who her real mom is?” Henri said, thinking he might be onto something.

“
I am
her mother, Henri. I’m here. Sophie isn’t my child by birth, but she is my daughter. I do not want to talk to anyone who might question me, or her. You mustn’t say anything.”

Henri looked at the two women before him. They were widows. They were tired. They were older than their age would suggest. Raising children was no small task. Henri’s own father had died in the mines when he was a babe, and his mother never had any other children. Sophie and Henri were alike in all the ways that mattered.

“Francesca’s right,” his mother added. “If they are looking for Sophie, we don’t want to get in the middle of it. She’ll be fine. She has enough spitfire for all of us! Best to keep our heads down, and they will be on their way soon enough.”

Henri blew out all the air inside of him in one exasperated breath. He looked at the women, bringing the hot tea to their lips, working hard to ignore his annoyance by staring out the window. They were delusional to think the Légion wouldn’t hear that Sophie had gone missing.

“Alright then. I’ll go and clean myself up from work, and try to stay out of everyone’s way.” Henri began untying his dusty apron.

The mothers nodded dismissively, back to their silent conversation that he wasn’t invited to. It irritated him, knowing he deserved to be a part of the speculation; he was Sophie’s nearest friend after all.

Once in his small room, he took but a moment before he made up his mind. Obviously he had to go after her. That he entertained the idea of
not
was embarrassing enough. He threw his apron to the ground and packed a bag hurriedly. He knew he should have never let her go away in the first place.

Go away without him.

It’s not that he didn’t want Sophie to have this grand adventure; he just wanted to be a part of it. He chose his regular life over her. That was the mistake.

He would make it right. He would find her and keep her safe if it was the last thing he did.

He unlatched the window and climbed through without saying goodbye.

He headed straight through town, head down, cap pulled low. Unnoticed, he continued through the woods, toward Emel and her camp. He would ask her if she knew where Beznik took Sophie. He would go to that place.

He needed to find her, before they did.

24.

Sophie

Middle of Nowhere, Gemmes

She kept walking though she was hungry and exhausted. And tired. She kept walking though she wanted to stop. To go back. To retrace her steps. She kept walking when her gut told her this was all wrong.

              She kept walking until she was utterly and completely lost. She realized she always had been.

              She wanted to find her home, her mother. Her beginning. She wanted to find out who she was, who she wasn’t. She realized everything she had thought was wrong and following Tristan was probably another wrong move.

              She wanted to know what was right.

              She didn’t stop walking all night. She kept weaving deeper and deeper into the mountain, following what looked like an abandoned route. She felt kin to this road, abandoned and alone, leading nowhere important.

              While she walked through the blackness, she kept thinking back to Miora.

              The reading had felt so real, so powerful at the time, but now nothing made sense. None of it seemed to apply. She’d acted foolish, running off because on old woman warned her of an imminent future. She’d given up everything and for what? She was far from home and alone.

Miora’s stones spoke of wasted pride and
rebirth.
Those warnings didn’t make sense. Sophie wanted a rebirth, to find her parents and start again, but that wasn’t happening here.

A few things did fit Miora’s reading. That Sophie would be captive and abandoned made sense at least. Tristan had basically begged her to come with him, and now she was abandoned, all alone, out here. Miora predicted that she would travel. She was doing a fine job of that, Sophie smirked at the thought. With each step she took she grew more clueless of her whereabouts.

Of course there was the nagging forewarning in the back of Sophie’s mind. Death.

Miora had said things she didn’t want to hear, but Emel warned her that was the way with stone readings. Sophie hadn’t a clue of what might comprise a good stone reading. After all she had she wanted a reason to leave. She had wanted that for forever.

She wondered if she had what she wanted why she felt so lost.

              When the sun rose and the trees appeared green and dewy before her, Sophie knew beyond all else, she needed a plan. Because she was now beyond exhausted and her stomach didn’t so much growl as roar. She would cry if she weren’t so damned annoyed with Tristan.

              The nerve of him to call her a greedy
trésor
stealer! It was unfathomable. True, she had stolen her fair share of champagne and
bonbons
over the years, but another man’s
trésor
? She wasn’t sure she had the ability to think up such a plan.

              A small creek ran with clear mountain water, and she walked off the road toward it. She splashed the icy water across her face and it woke her a bit at least. She slurped the liquid from the small of her hand. Once her thirst was quenched, she laid on her back in the grassy cove, letting the exhaustion of the night sweep over her, lulling her to sleep.

              She woke hours later with a person standing over her. Literally, his legs were spread a part with his feet on either side of her waist, holding her prisoner. Although loosely; she was contained by a pair of legs.

              “Sophie, my dear. You wake at last!”

Tristan had found her.

              “What on earth!” she screeched, rolling over and escaping his not very threatening capture. “Why did you follow me?” she implored, still lying in the grass.

              “Well, at first I planned on letting you go, to get lost deep in the woods, and all that, but the most curious thing happened, Bijou. I kept circling the forest, and no matter how hard I tried to walk in another direction, I was pulled toward you. It’s illogical, I know, but I was literally unable to leave your side.”

“That’s ridiculous,” Sophie argued. “No hypnotic force surges within me.”

“Fine, don’t believe me. I tried to go to it alone, but the laws of nature apparently don’t apply to you. To us! Luckily, I realized you would probably miss me. Considering the charming way I acted last night and all,” he said, crossing his arms, commanding all the attention in the world. He was devastatingly handsome, after all.

              Her face grew as hot as the moonstone as she looked him over. His intensity matched her own, it made her want him more.

No. Tristan’s behavior was inexcusable. Which made the fact that he was here all the more annoying. Still, he had food and maybe some
vin
.

Her stomach roared.

Sophie sat, her knees tucked under her chin, feeling more awake then she should have considering her lack of sleep.

“So you’re over yourself?” Sophie asked. “Over the idea that every single girl is just, like, dying to bed you, wed you, steal the
trésor
from under you? Over the fact that perhaps the entire country of Gemmes does not, in fact, revolve around you and your
trésor
?”

She liked teasing him. It made her feel alive.

Tristan sighed exaggeratedly. “Yes, all of that.” Tristan’s face grew serious, “Also. I literally am incapable of leaving your side.”

Sophie retreated slightly as though she found him less attractive when he spoke tenderly.

“I know this sounds absurd, but I need you, Sophie.”

Sophie pretended she didn’t hear him. Instead she began rifling through the bag he’d set on the grass. She knew there were still caramels buried in there somewhere.

“So, honestly, how did you find me? Was there some forest nymph who led the way to this hollow?” she asked, popping a square in her mouth, attempting to change the course of the conversation.

“No fairies. I just did. My feet knew which way to turn,” He took a caramel from her hand, and ate it. “Isn’t that remarkable? That I ended up here, next to you? It’s fate.”

Tristan took her hands in his, bringing them to his lips for a soft kiss. She cocked her eyebrows in surprise. Being physical with him was one thing, tearing off one another’s clothes and making out uninhibitedly and all that. That she could do.

But this?

Sweetly stroking her hand with his thumb while he looked longingly in her eyes? That was quite another. This was Henri stuff.

“Right. So. Do you have any food? I’m famished.” She smiled brightly at him, pulling her hands away with the excuse of re-braiding her hair.

“Of course I do!” Being set with a task helped things. Tristan began pulling out the makings for a picnic from his satchel and Sophie had time to consider her next move.

She was certainly all right with having an inappropriate affair with him. But love and all that other nonsense? Out of the question. She didn’t want to be committed. The word itself caused her to recoil.

“Tristan. Look. I can do adventure and intrigue. I can do making out indiscreetly in public places. I can even do
that other thing
in less public places. Like this grassy cove perhaps.” She pressed her lips together, contemplating how to word this next part without coming off like a royal
salope.
“I cannot, however, do
this.”
She raised her hand and made a circle in the space between them, indicating the thing thumping in Tristan’s heart that was clearly not thumping in hers.

Tristan didn’t falter, not even a smidge.

“How about this?” Tristan asked. “We continue to not
do this
,” he copied her circle with his hand. “We do the adventure and the intrigue. We find the
trésor
. Then, we see what happens after that.” Tristan smiled hopefully, pouring
vin
in two steel mugs.

“I know what you are doing here, Tristan.” Sophie answered, rolling her eyes. “You’re hoping, in the end, that I will fall hopelessly head over heels for you.”

“Exactly.”

“You are incorrigible, you know that?” she asked. He beamed. “Well, I can at least toast to your vision.” Sophie clinked her metal glass against his and smiled.

He pulled her in for a kiss,
vin
sloshing on the grass as he did.

Even though she knew they were kissing for completely different reasons, she didn’t care.

She kissed him back.