Heart of Stone (22 page)

37.

Sophie

Palace Royale, Éclat, Gemmes

She could breathe again. The pain was still there, but the throbbing subsided as she pulled a deep breath, trying to take in the people standing here.

              Henri held her left hand, and Tristan held her right. She shook her head, baffled by the scene. Emel stood with a woman she didn’t know and they were talking in hushed tones with a man she didn’t recognize. Two women dressed in Palace grandeur watched her tensely. It was odd.

An opulent blue silk blanket covered her body and the canopied bed’s heavy curtains were pulled open. It was something out of a fairy tale. It didn’t feel like real life.

“What are you doing here?” she asked Henri, squinting in confusion. “Actually, what am
I
doing here?”

“You fainted,” Henri said, letting go of her hand, as if he knew she wouldn’t like it.

He knew her so well, she realized, in that one swift gesture.

Tristan still held tightly to her hand.

“Tamsin came with my Uncle Rémy,” Tristan said, seemingly as confused as her. “And Henri and your friend Emel were with them. Isn’t that insane?”

Sophie sat in bed, feeling more like herself, and pursed her lips at Emel.

“Well, she isn’t exactly my friend,” Sophie clarified.

“Oh my Hedge. Really, Sophie?” Emel said, exasperated. “We saved your life, I mean, basically, and the first thing you want to do is argue with me?”

“You make it pretty easy.”

“Sophie, there are some things we need to discuss,” Henri said, softly.

“What?” she asked, now thoroughly perplexed. The bed, the people, her lack of memory. Everything about this scenario proved quite confusing.

“Actually, why don’t we take Tristan to the hall to explain, and you and Emel can stay here and speak with Sophie?” the woman, apparently Tamsin, asked Henri.

“That’s a good idea,” he answered. “But, Emel – could you maybe let us be alone?”

“What’s going on?” Tristan asked the room. Sophie realized, for the first time, that he was equally as confused with the dynamics. That was comforting, a bit at least.

“That’s fine with me,” Emel answered Henri. No one answered Tristan.

“Come on, Tristan, come out with us,” Tamsin and his Uncle Rémy nudged him. Emel and the other women followed, leaving Sophie alone with her oldest friend.

Once the door shut behind them, they looked at one another. Sophie realized, with a thump in her gut, that Henri might ask for his ring back. She had a lot to explain. It appeared he did too.

“What’s happening?” she asked.

“I’ve missed you, Jou-Jou.”

She looked at him, his brown hair swept across his forehead, a face she had memorized. He was familiar, and every bone in her body knew it. He was home.

“I was at the village square,” Henri began, seriously. “The King’s Légion showed up, looking for an orphan, your age. They were on a hunt
for you
. Your moth– Francesca was terrified. We all were.” Henri paused, and Sophie understood why this was hard for him.

“I know Francesca died. The king’s men, who found me on the road, told me about a woman who was hung for refusing to tell the king where I was. I put two and two together. I’m sure that was pretty … umm … awful.” She raised her eyebrows, wondering if he would start crying.

He was.

Henri stifled a sob, covered his mouth with his hand. He hadn’t known.

“Oh, Hedge. I thought you knew. I thought that was why you were freaking out.”

“I didn’t know, Jou-Jou. My mother must be a wreck. And you, I’m so sorry. What a terrible thing to hear when you were alone.”

“I wasn’t alone. Tristan was with me.”

Henri tensed, and Sophie thought it was because she mentioned another man’s name. She was wrong.

“That isn’t why I’m here, although that news is shocking. Just listen for a second, okay?”

“Okay.” Sophie didn’t like what was happening. She thought she knew the reason for the intensity in the room. She didn’t, apparently, and it unnerved her.

“After I heard who the king was looking for I ran away. I convinced Emel to take me to find you. I thought you had gotten yourself into trouble. Somehow we got lost and ended up at Tamsin’s … and she … well … she’d been looking for you all along.”

“Me?” Sophie shook her head not understanding. “You mean looking for Tristan? Tristan was looking for her.” Sophie tried to clarify.

“No.
You.
The reason Tristan met you was because of Tamsin. She led him to you, indirectly. I know it’s confusing, but try to understand this next part without freaking out.”

“I’m not freaking out, Henri.”

“Yeah, but you might.”

“I won’t. Hedge. What is it?”

“You are the Princess of Gemmes.”

Sophie looked at him, annoyed.

“Shut up, Henri. That’s not funny. You know I want to find my parents. You know what Miora said in the reading.”

“I’m not joking. Have I ever deceived you?”

“You haven’t,” Sophie admitted. She sat in silence for a moment, holding the silk between her fingers lost in thought. “How did I end up with Francesca then?”

Henri explained to her what happened the night she was born. Explained, with gentle care, the dark magic Tamsin used, the truth about her heart. That it wasn’t her own.

She clutched her chest, hanging on every word. She knew that Henri, more than anyone in the world, would never fabricate a story like this.

“So that’s why I’m such a bitch?” she asked with a laugh.

“Don’t, Sophie. Don’t joke.” Henri cried, wiping away the tears.

“What’s the alternative, Henri? I’m going to die. Die.” She laughed, manically. Unreasonably.

Henri cried harder.

“And the queen, my
mother,
she has my perfect, beating heart?”

“She does. She never knew you were alive. Until the king needed to find you.”

“Why would he wait till now to tell the queen, though? Why didn’t he let me die, unknowingly, in a few weeks when I turn eighteen?”

              Henri stiffened.

“What, Henri? What aren’t you telling me?”

              He shook his head, not wanting to answer. She narrowed her eyes unmercifully.

              “Your actual birthday is tomorrow. Your father and Francesca must have guessed your age when they found you.”

              “
Merde
.” She chortled. “Figures.”

              “There’s more.”

              “Seriously?”

              “Your stone heart … it’s the … umm….”

              “Just tell me already!” Sophie demanded.

              “Your stone heart is the seventh stone for the
Trésor de L’espoir
,” Henri blurted. “If you die, with it inside of you, it’s useless. Like, not viable. The stone will disintegrate.”

              Sophie pulled in her lips and laughed. She wound her long hair between her fingers not having words for this revelation.

              “
Merde
,” she said again.

“I know.”

              “We should have our champagne toast, you know, like we wanted before I got all
Bohème
on you and ran away.”

              “Stop it, Jou-Jou. Don’t make this into a joke. Don’t….” he urged, holding his face in his hands, unable to stop weeping. “You are my favorite person ever, you know that? Stone heart or not, I would do anything for you.”

              “So you’ve said, but don’t you see, maybe me being hard-hearted is the best thing. At least now I don’t have to get teary in the goodbye.”

              Henri lifted his head and looked at her in the eyes, giving Sophie access to look deep inside him. She didn’t look away.

“You won’t have to say goodbye,” Henri said, gravely.

“What do you mean?” she said, whispering because she felt afraid. Afraid of Henri’s devotion.

“Jou-Jou, I will give you my heart. It has always belonged to you.”

38.

Tristan

Palace Royale, Éclat, Gemmes

“
Merde
.”

Tristan couldn’t believe it. Tamsin and Emel had laid it out for him, but still. The entire story was outrageous.

The final stone, the garnet he dreamt of for years, close enough to feel.

He couldn’t stop dreaming of Sophie since he met her. Because of her heart of stone. Because she was the missing piece, the reason he found the other stones in the first place.

Tamsin’s connection to Sophie drew them together and now the stone would expire, disintegrate, dissolve.

Unless.

“I know what you are thinking, Tristan, and the answer is no,” Tamsin stated, firmly.

“You don’t know what I was going to suggest,” Tristan retorted. Guards stood everywhere, listening to everything. The rioters outside grew louder, making it feel like everything was pressing in too thin. He swore the walls would come down any minute.

“I know you want the
trésor
. I know it’s all we’ve ever wanted … however you can’t cut out the girl’s heart to get what you want,” Uncle Remy reasoned.

“She’ll die, anyways.”

“Why are you acting so cavalier? Don’t you care about her?” Uncle Rémy pressed. Suddenly his Uncle wanted to assume the role of guiding father. Tristan supposed there was a first time for everything, but it felt a little late for that.

“First of all, she’s not my lover. So I’m not indebted to her or something archaic like that.”

Tamsin, Emel, and Uncle Rémy stood with arms crossed, unswervingly against Tristan.

“I’m joking,
merde
.” Tristan pushed his hands through his hair, growing stressed. “Look, I know she’s a person, but doesn’t it seem like a waste? She might want to die knowing she died for something grand.”

“No. That isn’t the way to go,” Emel said. “I don’t like her, but that is wrong.”

“So she’ll wake tomorrow and die? The
trésor
and Sophie just gone?”

“I wish there was something I could do … I’ve wracked my brain, still I don’t have any ideas.” Tamsin threw her hands in the air, clearly a mess over this whole thing.
Who wasn’t though?
Tristan thought glumly.

“Her stone reading ended in death, you know? I had hoped it was figurative. This is so … literal,” Emel said.

“Let me talk to her,” Tristan said. “Don’t worry, I won’t hurt her. I couldn’t. I miss her already, like, desperately miss her. It hurts how much I miss that girl and it’s been like, what thirty minutes? Did you know, we were in this huge row at one point, and she left me? I spent the entire night searching for her in the woods because it was too horrible to be a part from her.”

“It’s not her, you know that right?” Emel said in annoyance.

“What do you mean? Of course it is. That girl is my everything. I’ve told her that. That’s why this is so messed up.”

“Emel is trying to point out that you are drawn to the stone, not Sophie,” Tamsin said gently, putting her hand on his arm. “I’m sorry for involving you in my mess. I’m such a fool.”

“Enough with playing the martyr, Tamsin; you had no choice!” Uncle Rémy raised his voice angrily. Tristan stepped back, never having seen his uncle mad before.

Things between him and Tamsin must have gotten intense. He always knew a spark passed between them, but it wasn’t until now, when he saw his uncle pull her into a tender embrace that he realized a relationship had ignited.

This was too weird.

The door to the queen’s chamber room swung open revealing a somber Henri. Tristan had taken one look at him when he arrived to know he was all wrong for Bijou. He tried hard to be an angsty lover, when really he was a stray puppy dog.

“Tamsin, I need your help,” Henri said.

“What is it, is Sophie in pain again?” Tamsin asked worriedly.

“Not pain, thankfully. But I found a way to solve our problems.”

Tamsin shook her head understanding what Tristan didn’t. “No, Henri, you can’t.”

“I need to,” Henri answered.

Emel started to cry, covering her mouth with her hands, horrified.

Tristan still didn’t understand.

“Tamsin, please, it’s the only way. She can’t die without ever having a real chance at life. Let me give her that chance.”

Tristan stared at him incredulously, the truth dawning on him. Henri would sacrifice himself for Sophie.

Tristan would get his
Trésor
de L’espoir
after all.

Tristan left them in hall, letting them figure out their spells or what not, and slipped into the queen’s chamber. It agonized him to be separated from the thing he loved.

Sophie stood at the queen’s dressing table, holding miniature portraits of the king and queen in her hand, looking like she’d seen a ghost. She watched Tristan enter through the mirror, and asked, “Did you talk him out of his ridiculous plan, Tristan?”

“Not exactly….” Tristan had a momentary flush of shame as he remembered what his exact thoughts were. Not much to do with Henri’s life, or Sophie’s for that matter. He had one focus. He always had.

“Why not? You think he deserves to die?” she asked, her head tilted to the side, her choice of words as direct as ever.

“I think a future with you and the
Trésor de L’espoir
, like we planned, is quite appealing.”

He walked closer, resting his hands on her shoulders as he stood behind her. Breathing lighter now that he was once again in close proximity to the garnet.

“It’s rather strange, isn’t it? Being here, all of us connected, all wanting different things.”

“You’re so existential, Bijou, I never knew.”

“I’m a lot of things we never knew, aren’t I?” She smiled, as if this was fun and games to her.

“You are taking this quite well.”

“How else would I act? After all, aren’t I a stony girl? I am nothing more than the sum of my parts and my parts are cold, lifeless. You can’t expect me to be something I am not.”

“Just think of what you could be … will be!” Tristan exclaimed, growing excited at the idea of him and Sophie, the riches of Gemmes. Theirs, forever.

“You think it will be that simple?”

“I do. You and me, we can conquer the world!” He grinned, so genuinely happy.

“You are the handsomest man I’ve ever met; you know that, Tristan?”

“Such high praise from the Ice Queen!”

“I’m actually the Princess of Gemmes,” she responded arrogantly, with the trace of a smirk slightly revealing itself.

“Yes, you are,” he leaned over and kissed her neck, sweeping back her long hair, inhaling her everything. “I could pull you onto that bed, draw those curtains and take what I’m dying to get my hands on.”

“I know what you’re dying to get your hands on, Tristan.” Sophie surprised him by standing, turning to face him, pressing her hands on his chest, pushing him backwards to the canopied bed.

“You are the girl of my dreams, you know that, Bijou?”

“Oh, I know exactly what you’ve dreamt of taking.” She pushed him on the bed, fulfilling his fantasy. He moaned as she straddled him, pushing her skirt to her knees as she looked at him with her perfect red lips.

She continued, “I know your first thought when you heard I was the missing piece to your
trésor
was to cut open my chest, and take the precious garnet for yourself.” Her eyes glistened, and Tristan realized in terror that she had played him. “I heard you tell Tamsin that I might as well die for something grand.”

She pulled a dagger from under the pillow, inches from Tristan’s head. He’d seen the enchanted dagger many times before, and instantly recognized it as Tamsin’s. Tamsin’s bag was splayed open on the floor of the chamber, taunting them with potions and spells, none of which was strong enough for what they needed. They needed dark magic. Magic that must be conjured by something more impressive than a simple concoction of herbs dug from the forest floor.

“Take it, traitor.” She shoved the dagger in his hand. “Take my heart of stone, it’s what you want, isn’t it?”

Tristan realized though she might be cold and callous, she was still a girl.

“Hearing me say you were dying hurt your feelings, didn’t it?” he asked her dubiously.

“Don’t fool yourself. You can’t hurt me, but you can cut me. Cut me open. You’re right about one thing, that I am a girl. I know that much. I am one girl thrown into something much too big for me, but I will not, under
any
circumstances, let Henri die for me.”

“Carve out my heart, Tristan. If you care even a sliver, even a trace … let me die. Let Henri live.” Her face was fierce, filled with strength he’d never before seen in anyone or anything. She was no longer a human cloaked in the ferocity of the moment; Tristan thought maybe she never was.

She was a girl with a heart of stone, after all.

He could make her final wish come true. He rolled her off of him, and they traded places. Her hair splayed like a waterfall across the pillow and her eyes filled with fortified resolve.

He took the enchanted dagger and lifted it high over her. “Thank you,” he whispered, relieved to get what he wanted most.

“No, Tristan, thank you.” Even though she was the coldest girl in Gemmes, he swore that in her thanks, there was more to her final words than gratitude.

He could have sworn there was love.