The Beautiful Ones - Silvia Moreno-Garcia Page 0,48
Luc declared.
“Perhaps Nina means to reinforce her reputation as the Witch of Oldhouse,” Valérie said.
Valérie sat half-reclined, her lips curved into a sneer, her pale skin contrasting with the darkness of the room and granting her a provocative air. She was alluring, but when Hector glanced at Nina and saw the way her eyes went wide with quiet pain, he felt desire wilting from him.
“That is a cruel taunt to repeat,” he said, his voice hard.
Valérie leaned back haughtily. “Are you to reproach me? These idiotic parlor tricks are fit for rogues in gambling dens, not a proper lady. Not that Antonina behaves like a lady. Half the time she is close to a savage.”
“Pardon me, but Antonina is a true lady, unlike some others who put on airs and merely pretend to be gentlewomen,” he affirmed, his eyes firmly set on the blond woman, the barb undeniable and as sharp as a saber.
Valérie stood up at once in a fury of pink damask and marched out of the room with such haste, several people stopped speaking. Hector sat in silence, letting the three cards that had been floating in front of him fall down upon the divan.
“Thank you,” Nina said.
Hector looked up at her and saw she was smiling. “You’ve slain a dragon for me,” she added.
“I’ve been crude and will no doubt pay dearly for it.”
“She deserved it,” Nina said, her voice low. “You don’t know how it was when I was small, how they’d taunt me for it. I didn’t mean to make the flour fly through the kitchen, I didn’t mean to make the stones rain or the porcelain shatter. It happened and they’d frown or they’d laugh or they’d say, ‘There goes the Witch of Oldhouse.’”
“It was like that, too, for me at times. I almost burned a guesthouse in Zhude—I knocked over a lantern. I did not mean it. They threw me out in the middle of a snowstorm.”
“You were angry?” she asked. “When I’m angry … it’s hard to keep a grip on it. I fear it will overcome me at times.”
“I was,” he said. This bit of their talent they had not discussed, both too afraid to voice the limits of their control. “But, the talent, you use it, it doesn’t use you.”
“That boy. I shoved him off a horse.”
“Yes, you mentioned it.”
“He was almost trampled. But I did mean it, I did,” she said, her voice faint.
“We all make mistakes.”
She looked at him, her eyes catching the light in the gloom of the large room. “Why were you angry, when the fire happened?” she asked.
“I’d had my heart broken.”
It shocked him because it was an honest and deep answer. He had hardly ever told people about his troubles; he guarded them. His secrets were not for Nina.
He turned his head. If they continued in this vein, if she looked at him longer, he might tell her about the times he wished to die in his bed, the moment when he’d contemplated the never-ending sea. Hector excused himself.
The next day they sat outside, on the grass in front of the house. Étienne lay on his back, hands behind his head. Valérie sat under a white parasol, shielding herself from the sun’s rays, although it was not a sunny day. A few of Nina’s cousins and assorted relatives were nearby, chatting with each other.
He had stayed out of Valérie’s way, but could not help frequently looking in her direction, magnetized.
“We should play a game,” Luc declared. “Have some fun.”
“What game would you like to play, Mr. Lémy?” Nina asked.
“Tag!” a younger cousin yelled.
Others agreed eagerly and Luc thought it a splendid idea. Even Étienne was roused to his feet by his brother.
Nina stood up, brushing bits of grass from her skirts, and looked down at Hector. “Are you joining us?” she asked.
“Not this time,” he said.
She smiled at him before running off with the others, their shrieks and giggles soon sounding distant. Only Valérie and Hector were left behind.
He turned toward her. Valérie wore an embroidered, white silk dress with a smocked waistline and her ever-present pearls, her blond hair carefully coifed and pinned in place. She had a book with her, but was not reading it. Several times he had seen her grab it, open it to a page, then close it and place it at her side again as if she’d thought better of it.
Valérie’s eyes were fixed on the sky, and when she spoke, her voice sounded relaxed, even languid.