The Beautiful Ones - Silvia Moreno-Garcia Page 0,54

pain so clear she thought she might touch it. It was real, solid. His voice, when he spoke, was a murmur.

“You are a vicious, mad creature,” he said.

She wanted to cry and could not. She wanted to weep for that proud girl who had broken her own heart and tossed it to the dogs, and she wanted to weep for the woman who had been left behind with a gaping hole in her soul. But if she could do it again, she knew she’d still retrace her steps. She was not Antonina Beaulieu, who offered herself like a sacrificial lamb, who gave everything of herself to the world for the world to devour. She was Valérie Véries. She hated herself sometimes for it, but she was Valérie Véries, a Beautiful One, not some weakling nor a halfwit.

“And I am a fool,” he muttered. Perhaps he might cry for the both of them, dear Hector.

“Yes, you are,” she said.

He yanked her to her feet and placed a harsh, desperate kiss on her mouth. It had been like this, too, when they were young. This desire, the stubbornness of her theatrical, calculated refusal, the pleas, until she broke against him and kissed him back.

A game they played.

But when they were young they were free, and afterward they could make vows that they intended to keep. Now there were no promises to be made, nor any measure of soothing tenderness.

Valérie kissed him nevertheless. Knowing the hopelessness of it all made her want to hold on tighter to him. She also wanted to hurt him, and she knew well enough that her caresses would wound more than any blows.

His mouth burned her and she knew he wanted to brand her, his fingers were digging too deep in her flesh, and she relished the touch. She thought of biting his tongue, drawing blood.

There came the loud thump of a book falling upon the floor.

They both turned their heads.

Antonina stood at the door. One of her books had slipped from her hands, but she still held on to the other one tight. Her lips were trembling.

Finally, she let go of the book she had been clutching, and at the same time several volumes jumped from the shelves and fell against the carpet, as if echoing her motions. Then the girl turned around and ran out of the library.

Hector meant to follow Antonina, but Valérie held on to his arm, forcing him to turn and look at her.

“It’s all over,” Valérie said.

Hector did not reply, rushing out, looking faintly ridiculous in his distress. She chuckled at this. She rubbed her fingers against her mouth and she chuckled, and then she bit her hand because tears were streaming down her face.

CHAPTER 18

In the summer Nina liked to rise early, sometimes even before the dawn. She’d go to the river and take off her shoes, walking on blades of grass fresh with dew. She’d watch the fireflies and listen to the birds as they began to chirp in the trees. These things brought her joy.

She had been anxious and brittle the day before, unable to understand what had caused Hector to part quickly from her side after they kissed in the tower. He did not come down for dinner, which only added to her woes.

Wrapped in perfect misery, she questioned the stars for any secret answers they might give her, but they could not soothe her. The books talked about men set aflame, pursuing women, but it was she who was burning and knew not what course to take. The only thing the heroines in her books did was weep until a man rescued them. Or kidnapped them, if he was a pirate.

That spark that burned in her, that ember lodged in her heart, pushed her forward, emboldening her.

Close to midnight she grabbed a piece of paper and began scribbling. Her hands trembled at first, but as each word fell in place, she grew calmer. By the time she left the letter at his door, she had erased all doubts, and in the morning, when she woke and traced the margins of the river, she did so with a smile on her face. She was alive that morning, alive with hope and love. Each breath she took, each beat of her heart, every sigh, was meant for Hector. She existed for him alone and knew nothing but him.

Surely he loved her but was afraid to say the proper words! Cousin Gaétan had expressed reservations about him when Hector first