Midnight Dolls (17 page)

I blink at him a few times before pushing his hand away from my face and taking a few steps back. “Wait, I'm your what?”

He looks startled by my reaction. “My intended. Our sosyete paired us together when we were just babies.”

Suddenly, my stomach is churning. When I asked my father whether someone had been chosen for me in the bizarre andaba tradition, he had dodged the question, and I'd assumed the answer was no. Now I realize I was wrong. “What exactly do you mean?” I say.

He looks surprised. “You were the next girl born after me to a royal family, and even though you have powers too, the sosyete decided to pair us when you were about six months old.” He laughs uneasily. “I think we're supposed to be some big power couple or something.”

“No,” I whisper. The realization that someone has magically tinkered with something so personal makes me feel violated. An instant later, I find myself wondering if my parents knew this charm had been cast. How could they have been okay with such a thing?

“How exactly does this pairing thing work?” I finally ask.

“From the time we turn seventeen, it makes us fall more and more deeply in love with each other every day,” Bram says. I gasp, and he reaches for me, but I dodge him. He hesitates and adds, “Please don't worry. The sosyete is very careful. There's never been a bad match.”

“So you're saying I have no choice about falling in love with you? Marrying you?” I say, incredulous. He takes a step forward, but I back away. I don't want him touching me now. I don't want to feel my heart thudding and my skin sizzling. I don't want to feel myself wanting his lips on mine. It's not real.

“Trust me,” Bram says, “it's how the charm works. You'll feel it more as you get older.”

“No,” I say. “I don't want to.”

He looks like I've slapped him across the face. “Eveny, I promise you'll feel differently when—”

I cut him off. “I don't want to feel differently, Bram. I want
to fall in love—whether it's with you or with someone else—because my heart tells me to. I want to fall in love because a guy is good and kind and smart and funny. I want to fall in love with someone who gets me and someone who wants all of me, the good and the bad, the natural and the supernatural, the complicated and the simple. I don't want to fall in love with someone who only loves me because of magic.”

“Eveny, how can you think that?” he says. “I love all of those things about you. And I know I'll love you more and more as I get to know you better.”

“Because you've been forced to! By something
you
didn't ask for and
I
didn't ask for. Don't you see? This isn't real!”

“It
is
real,” he says. “If you'll let me explain—”

I cut him off again. “I'm sorry. You seem really nice, Bram. But knowing that I'm supposed to love you kind of ruins it.”

Bram takes a step back and smiles at me sadly. “I thought that too, Eveny. But just wait until you get a little older. Magic takes over. You'll feel the link between us too. You'll feel what I feel. And when you do,” he adds, “I'll be here. Waiting.”

He leaves without another word, and I stare after him, confused and shaken, long after the front door has closed behind him. It's only when he's gone that I realize I already miss him.

“
W
hy didn't you tell me?” I say as soon as my father walks in the door a half hour later. I've spent the time since Bram left sitting in the kitchen, trying to figure out how I'm supposed to stop feeling something I've been magically forced to feel.

He looks startled. “Tell you what?”

“About Bram!”

“What about him?”

“How I'm apparently supposed to
marry
him? Didn't you think I deserved to know that?”

“Oh.” My father looks guilty. “I'm sorry.”

“You're
sorry
?” All of my frustration is pouring out now, sharpening my words. “You're sorry that you didn't respect me enough to tell me something so important? Or you're sorry that when I specifically asked you about it, you basically lied to my face?”

“I didn't lie to you,” he says. “I just didn't answer completely. Besides, it didn't seem as important as some of the other things we're dealing with now.”

“It didn't seem
important
? How can the outcome of my life not be important to you? How can the feelings I have not be important to you?”

“I don't mean it like that,” he says quickly. “I just mean that we're under attack. Your life is in danger. I have to focus on saving you.”

“Why? So that I can marry a boy you chose for me a lifetime ago? So that I can go on to follow some path you laid out for me when I was just a baby? So that I have absolutely no control over my own destiny?”

“Eveny, you're overreacting,” my father says. “I'm not pushing you toward Bram, nor am I trying to take away your control. I
do
believe you have the right to choose, just like your mom and I did.”

“But you and Mom agreed to let your sosyete cast this charm to bind me to Bram? How could you?”

He shakes his head. “Believe me, I voiced my concern, and I refused to take part in the ceremony, but they did it anyhow. They only needed three kings to cast, and I was outvoted. Your mom was furious when she found out what they had done, and she made me promise that I'd support you in whatever you chose in the end.”

“Now you're saying I have a
choice
in the matter?” I ask, unable to keep the bitterness out of my tone.

“You
do
,” my father replies. “Just like I did when I chose
your mom. It's difficult to turn your back on the things you've been magically predisposed to feel, but it's not impossible. Regardless, I think you and I can both agree that Caleb isn't the right decision for you. And I don't see why you shouldn't give Bram a chance, when you get right down to it. He's a good guy, Eveny. And at the end of the day, I only want what's best for you.”

“Yeah, well, funny how what's best for me looks an awful lot like what's best for you and your sosyete.”

I storm up the stairs and slam the door to my bedroom, ignoring him as he calls after me. For the first time all day, I'm beginning to feel like meeting with Main de Lumière is my only option, regardless of the risks. After all, I can't even trust the people who are closest to me.

Caleb calls a few times, but I don't answer, and finally he texts me to ask if I'm all right.

Don't worry
, I write back.

I'm still outside if you need me
, he replies instantly.
Whatever it is, it's going to be okay
.

A new wave of guilt washes over me. How could I have given in to whatever I was feeling for Bram when Caleb is out there risking his life for me around the clock? What kind of a person does that?

I sit at my window for a few minutes and stare out at my mother's Rose of Life blooms, lit by the evening sun, and beyond them, the cemetery, which now lies in shadows. I
think of my mother and wonder what she would have done if she were in my shoes. I can't help but feel disappointed in myself for having feelings for Bram, even after realizing I'm fated to. My parents, it seems, were stronger than that; they let their own passion for each other guide them rather than buying into their magical destiny. I wrap my arms around myself as I watch Caleb cross the garden on his nightly rounds. He looks up at my window, meets my gaze, and gives me a small wave. I feel tears in my eyes as I turn away.

There's a knock on my door and I call out, “I don't want to talk about it, Dad.”

“It's your grandfather, Eveny.”

“Oh.” I hesitate. I'm not sure how he can help me now, but based on our conversation the other day, I'm hopeful he'll be sympathetic to my plight, at the very least. “Come in.”

As he opens the door and settles himself onto the edge of my bed, I'm struck by how drained he looks. “Your father told me what happened,” he says. “With Bram.”

I look away. “Let me guess. You're here to tell me you agree with him? That I should just marry Bram and move back to Caouanne Island and forget all about Carrefour?”

“No,” my grandfather says. “I'm here to tell you that I think you have the right to choose, just like your parents did.”

“You do?”

“Tradition means a lot, but sometimes we have to rely on ourselves to make the best choices.” He pauses. “Here. I have something I'd like to show you, if you'll come sit beside me.
I think that your mother would have agreed with me about relying on yourself too.”

He chants something under his breath and pulls his Mind's Eye out from under his shirt as I move next to him. The crystal flickers to life, and it takes me a minute to realize that the scene appearing in the glass is taking place on Caouanne Island. A second later, a young version of my mother walks into the frame, and my breath catches in my throat. She looks so real, so alive in the tiny image. It makes my heart ache.

“This was the first time I met your mother,” my grandfather says. “Your father brought her home to Caouanne Island to show her where he'd grown up. She must have been twenty-one or twenty-two.”

I watch, transfixed, as my mother throws her head back and laughs. She looks hopeful, like anything is possible. “She seems happy,” I say.

“She was.”

We continue watching the scene, from my grandfather's point of view, as he meets my mother for the first time. They hug, and she chatters nervously about how happy she is to be on Caouanne Island.

The image flashes forward to what I assume is later that same day, because my mother is wearing the same flowing emerald green dress. My grandfather approaches from behind, and as he gets closer, I see that she's sitting on the back deck with my father, his arm slung around her.
Are you two almost ready for dinner?
I hear my grandfather ask, and
my parents turn to smile at him. I gasp as I see how young my father looks too.

I watch as my father kisses my mother tenderly on the cheek and heads into the house, leaving her alone with my grandfather. He moves closer to her, and her whole face seems to light up as she smiles at him.
Mr. Desjardins, thank you so much for inviting me here
, she says.

But of course, my dear
, my grandfather replies.
I know how deeply my son loves you. And please, no need for formalities. Call me Gregore.

My mother blushes and smiles, and when she looks up again, her eyes are filled with tears.
I know there are some concerns on Caouanne Island that I'm going to take Matthias away. But I promise, that isn't my intention. We plan to be together, but one day, we both hope that our magical faiths can be united.

United?
My grandfather's tone sounds surprised.

Oh yes, Gregore
, my mother says, grasping his hands. In the Mind's Eye, it looks like she's staring right at me. I'm startled to see the depth of resolve in her eyes.
Matthias and I want to fix the things that are wrong with andaba and zandara, the way they've been misused, and return both magical faiths to their former glory, so that we can change the world for good
.

Sandrine
,
you're dreaming big
, my grandfather replies. He pauses and adds,
Then again, the world never changes unless someone has the courage to lead. How can I help?

My mother beams at him.
You're already helping, just by accepting the love between Matthias and me. Thank you for
opening your mind and your heart to me. I promise, I won't let you down.

The image flickers and vanishes, and my grandfather lowers the Mind's Eye and looks at me. I'm struck by how kind he was to my mom, which isn't at all what I expected after what my father told me.

“My mother wanted to unite zandara and andaba?” I ask after a moment.

He nods. “She never got the chance. But you do, Eveny. You have the opportunity to make that kind of change.”

I wipe away a few tears and feel a new sense of hope.

“The stakes are so much bigger here,” my grandfather goes on. “So much more important than which boy you'll wind up choosing.”

“I know,” I say, embarrassed.

“Eveny,” my grandfather says after a pause, “do you know that anyone wearing the Mind's Eye can harness its power?”

“You mean I could see one of my own memories?” I say, surprised.

He nods. “The Mind's Eye is already charmed. You just have to focus on a specific moment in time.” He hands me the crystal. “Do you want to try it?”

I take it hesitantly. “I don't know what to look at.”

He pauses again before asking, “Do you remember the night your mother died?”

My breath catches in my throat, and I nod.

“Could you show it to me in the Mind's Eye?”

“But why?” I ask. I can't imagine anything more painful to witness again.

“Because her murder was never solved, Eveny,” my grandfather says. “And things are happening in Carrefour again, terrible things. What if what's happening now is tied to what happened to her? What if your memories hold the key to saving us?”

I hang my head. He has a point. “You're right. I'll give it a shot.”

“You're doing the right thing.” He chants softly as I close my eyes and force my mind back to that terrible night fourteen years ago. When I open my eyes again, the scene flickering on the surface of the Mind's Eye is painfully familiar. The closed door of the parlor in our front hallway. A scream, light pouring out from beneath the door as someone flips a switch, Peregrine's mother crying out
Sandrine!
in a strangled voice. Peregrine's and Chloe's mothers bursting from the parlor and running right past me, both of them stained by my mother's blood.

And then, the image begins moving into the parlor, as I knew it would. I was three years old, and the room looks huge around me as I make my way inside. I can hear my mother gasping for air, a terrible, rasping sound that I now know comes from the jagged wound to her neck.
Mommy!
I hear myself cry.

And then the image bounds across the room as I dash to my mother's side. She's in a filmy white gown that's already
soaked crimson, and her arms are twisted at a strange angle. Blood pumps from her slashed neck in an even, slowing rhythm.

No, Mommy, no!
I whisper in the image, and I begin to cry now as I watch my tiny toddler arms wrap around my mother, trying to fix her, trying in vain to stop the life from seeping out of her.

Eveny
, my mother says, so low that I can barely hear her.
I live on in you
. Then her eyes close and her body goes limp.

Mommy?
Mommy, wake up!

Sobbing, I hand the Mind's Eye to my grandfather and turn away, trying to get ahold of myself.

“I'm sorry,” my grandfather says, rubbing my back. “I'm very sorry I asked you to do that.”

“No, you were right. If it could help us now, I had to try,” I tell him. “Did you see anything important?”

He shakes his head. “You obviously didn't see the killer.”

“No,” I admit. I think about what I saw for a moment and add softly, “She said she lives on in me. What do you think she meant?” Hearing her voice again, her dying whisper, has undone me.

He hesitates. “I think she wanted you to know that you're magical too. She wanted you to be here, in this moment, knowing the extent of your abilities and of your responsibilities. What a wonderful gift.”

“You're right.” I feel a surge of power. My mother would have wanted me to fight, to stand up for all the things I care about and believe in.

And just like that, I know for sure that I need to go to New Orleans tonight. I need to meet with the Main de Lumière faction if it means I have a chance to save this town. It's what my mother would have done.
I live on in you
, she said. I have to do a better job of becoming the kind of queen she believed I could be. “Thank you,” I say, turning to my grandfather with a small smile. “Thank you for reminding me who I am.”

For a moment, I consider telling him about my plans. After all, he seems to be supporting my right to choose my own fate. But then the words from the scroll come back to me, and I worry that if I involve my grandfather, the man from Main de Lumière will know, and our meeting will be off. I can't take that chance.

He stares at me before nodding and standing up. “I'm proud of you, Eveny.”

He kisses me on the cheek and walks slowly out of the room.

I drop by Peregrine's place just past six to check on my sister queens.

“We've chosen coffins,” Peregrine says after leading me inside, her eyes empty and sad. “The nicest ones we could find.”

“Good.” I give her a hug. “Your moms would be grateful.” It seems like the wrong thing to say, but she hugs me back.

She ushers me into the living room, where Chloe looks up at me blankly. “Hi, Eveny,” she says, her voice flat.

“Hey. How are you holding up?”

She shrugs. “I don't know. I don't know how to feel. I don't know what to do. I've never been so helpless.”