Page 21 of Besieger
“It does have a strong aroma,” Emerick handed the cloth back to the perfumer. He looked like he was on the verge of sneezing. “I will let you know if I like it once I can tell one smell from another.”
Silvio laughed, shaking his head. He pulled out a handkerchief from his pocket and dabbed a little of the perfume on it. Next he took off his gloves and dabbed some on the lining of each before putting them back on.
“Excellent work, Monsieur. I will take all the bottles from this batch.”
Beaumont nodded, beaming with pride and went to the back of the store.
“Planning to bathe in the stuff, Sil?” Emerick asked and leaned on the counter once the two were left alone.
“Oh, this is not for me. It is for you.”
Emerick raised his eyebrows.
“Then why are you dousingyourgloves withmyperfume? Isn’t this something humans do out of sentimentality?”
“It is so I can have something to remind me of you when you are not here.” Silvio explained, his lips curling in a smile.
“Sil, I am the first and last thing you see each night. The only time you are not seeing me is when we sleep.”
“And I suffer through it immensely—from dawn till dusk.”
Emerick rolled his eyes and made a face but the grimace quickly faded, replaced by a smile. As ridiculous as the answer was, it pleased him. He made to reach out and take the handkerchief from Silvio’s pocket, but the shopkeep returned, a small box of bottles rattling under his arm.
“This is all of them. And the perfume for Madame,” Beaumont explained, offering a round bottle to Silvio to sniff at.
“There is no need, Monsieur. I trust your craftsmanship.” The Count refused, his eyes narrowing at the bottle. His brow was furrowed in obvious distaste. “Wrap it as a gift, if you will.”
“Certainly,” the man bowed, a note of worry quivering his voice but he began to wrap the perfume in paper.
Dulior favoured the floral scent of roses. Their stench sometimes stuck persistently to Silvio’s clothes and coats, like a ghost hand clutching at his throat. The smell made him nauseous and every time the servants arranged a bouquet in any of the rooms, they were always overflowing with roses. He hoped the shopkeep wrapped the glass bottle tightly so the cap would not leak in his pocket.
“You know,” Emerick said in Latin, still leaning on the counter and watching the man work. He had picked up his own perfume bottle and was turning it between his fingers absentmindedly. “Noblemen like to send their wives to the countryside—or the seaside, perhaps. The fresh air appears to do them good. Why not send Madame away? Let her enjoy the sea breeze, taste the local fare. Unburden her of the household.”
“If it were so easy to dispatch her, I would have done so already,” Silvio answered coldly.
“Thenus—we could do with a change of scenery and a finer palate.”
“Thatshe would allow even less. If we move, we move as one.”
“Why?”
The question was so simple, too simple. Silvio had asked himself the same thing over and over again. A great sadness clenched at his chest. He had asked Duliorwhyevery time she dragged him to the altar. Every time she called him to her bedchamber, only to slam the door in his face.
“Why are we anchored to her, Sil?” Emerick pressed on.
“I do not know,” Silvio lied.
The words spilled out of his mouth. Admitting his own helplessness in the matter hurt. His pride could not withstand any more of this charade. For years he believed that without Dulior they would all perish. Yet no matter how desperate he was, Silvio never dared to test the theory.
He picked up the box of perfumes, and looked at them, reminiscent. Beaumont was counting his coins, doing his best to pay no mind at how sudden the mood had gone sour in the store. Silvio thanked him and turned towards the door, nodding for Emerick to follow.
“But come, I have more gifts.” His voice sounded small and hoarse.Tonight is not about her.There was no room for his wife in the plans Silvio weaved and stitched in the depths of his mind.
SILVIO, 1790
His first act as Regent was to choose where to establish his coven. His seat of power.
“Capitals are a safe bet,” Ingenuar offered, placing the candelabra so its flickering halo fell over Paris. “They are the easiest to find on a map, and the last to fall in times of war.”
