Free Web NovelChapter 10: The Rehearsal
She was gone when he woke up.
Not gone from the estate. Gone from the bed. The space beside him was warm. Her scent was in the sheets. The pillow was dented where her head had been. But she was standing by the window with her arms crossed and her back to him and the posture of a woman who had slept against a man’s shoulder for three hours and was now dealing with the consequences.
"Morning," he said.
"Don’t."
"Pancakes."
"Don’t pancakes either."
"Your vocabulary is declining."
"Your existence is declining."
"That doesn’t make sense."
"Nothing makes sense. I slept on your shoulder. My body migrated toward you in my sleep again. I woke up with my hand on your chest and my leg across yours and my face in your neck and I could feel your heartbeat against my palm and it was fifty-two and I counted every beat."
Silence.
"Good morning to you too," he said.
She pressed her forehead against the window glass. The cold of it against her skin. The heat inside her body warring with the morning air.
"I need space," she said.
"From me?"
"From your heartbeat."
"I can’t relocate my heartbeat."
"Then relocate yourself."
"To where?"
"Anywhere that isn’t within heartbeat range."
"I’ll start breakfast."
"That’s within heartbeat range."
"The kitchen is twenty feet away."
"I can hear your heartbeat from twenty feet away."
"That’s a demon problem, not a me problem."
She turned. Looked at him. The violet eyes burning with the specific kind of fury that comes from a woman who is attracted to a man and furious about it and taking it out on the man who is the cause and the victim simultaneously.
"Your heartbeat was fifty-two when I was against you," she said.
"You told me last night."
"Fifty-two. The same as the thunderstorm. The same number."
"I heard."
"Do you know what that means?"
"That I have a slow heartbeat."
"It means I make you SAFE." Her voice cracked on the last word. Not from weakness. From the effort of saying something she’d spent all night trying not to say. "The most dangerous demon princess in Avarthos makes you feel safe. You. The man who fights assassins with bare hands and catches war hammers and rates my poison attempts. You feel safe with me."
"I do."
"STOP AGREEING WITH ME."
"You want me to disagree?"
"I want you to be as confused as I am."
"I’m confused."
"No you’re not. You’re standing there making pancakes with a flat face while my entire nervous system is short-circuiting."
"The pancakes help me think."
"I’M THE THING YOU SHOULD BE THINKING ABOUT. NOT PANCAKES."
She froze. The words hung in the air. She’d said them. Out loud. In the morning light. With him standing at the stove holding a spatula and looking at her with the dead eyes that somehow saw everything.
"I didn’t mean that," she said.
"You did."
"I didn’t."
"Your pulse is one hundred and forty. I can see your neck."
She slapped her hand over her neck. The traitorous vein. The circulatory system that had no loyalty and no discretion and was broadcasting her feelings to anyone with eyes.
"Eat your pancakes," she said.
"I haven’t made them yet."
"Then MAKE them. And stop looking at me."
"I’m looking at the stove."
"You’re looking at me through the stove."
"The stove isn’t transparent."
"YOUR EYES ARE."
She left. Fast. The walk of a woman who had just screamed about being the thing her husband should think about and was now retreating at maximum velocity.
He stood at the stove. Alone. The spatula in his hand. The batter in the bowl. The kitchen quiet.
His heartbeat was ninety-one.
He didn’t need her to tell him. He could feel it.
A letter arrived at ten.
Black parchment. Gold seal. The crest of the Kingdom of Theron. Human royal correspondence. Not a death threat this time. Something worse.
Ryuji read it. Handed it to Selene. She read it. Handed it to Alexei. Alexei read it. Handed it to Brokk. Brokk read it and his eye twitched so hard his entire face moved.
"An inspector," Selene said.
"A royal inspector," Ryuji confirmed. "From King Theron. Arriving tomorrow. To assess the legitimacy of the marriage."
"Legitimacy."
"The king wants to confirm that the contract marriage is functioning. That the peace holds. That his investment in the summoning ritual is producing results."
"He’s checking if we’re actually married," Alexei said.
"He’s checking if his pawn is still on the board."
"When does he arrive?" Selene asked.
"Tomorrow. Noon."
"So we have one day to prepare."
"We have one day to pretend."
"Pretend what?"
"That we’re happily married."
Silence.
Four people in a kitchen. One human. One demon princess. One demon prince. One dwarf. All of them processing the same impossible task.
"You want me to pretend to be happily married to the man I’ve been trying to kill for nine days," Selene said.
"Yes."
"The man who rates my assassination attempts."
"Yes."
"The man who makes pancakes while I swing blades at his head."
"He makes very good pancakes," Alexei said.
"NOT HELPING."
"The inspector needs to see a functional marriage," Ryuji said. "Affection. Partnership. Unity. If he reports back to Theron that the marriage is failing, the king will use it as justification to escalate. New summonings. New pawns. Maybe an attempt on your life directly."
"My life is already being attempted."
"By Zerathis. Theron has been hands-off. An unfavorable report changes that."
"So we act," Selene said.
"We act."
"What does acting look like?"
"Proximity. Eye contact. Physical touch. The appearance of intimacy without the substance."
"I can do proximity."
"Can you do eye contact without threatening to kill me?"
"I can try."
"Can you do physical touch without it being a chokehold?"
"That’s harder."
Brokk raised his hand. "I’ll handle the estate. Make it look lived in. Not like a war zone."
"It is a war zone," Alexei said.
"I’ll hide the war zone parts. The garden graves need to stay covered. The furniture damage needs to be explained. The missing doorframe needs a story."
"What story?" Ryuji asked.
"Enthusiastic entry," Brokk said. Looking at Alexei.
"I’ll own that," Alexei said.
"Good. Now. The bedroom." Brokk looked between Ryuji and Selene. "One bed. That’s fine. Married couples share a bed. But the wall."
"What about the wall?" Selene asked.
"The plaster is cracking from his body heat and posture pressure. It looks like a man stands against it all night. No married couple has a wall-cracking standing husband."
"I’ll sit," Ryuji said.
"On the bed," Selene said. Quietly.
They looked at each other. The word bed in the air between them. The memory of last night. Her head on his shoulder. His heartbeat in her ears.
"On the bed," he confirmed.
"I’ll fix the wall," Brokk said. "Tonight. Before the inspector sees it."
That night they rehearsed.
Not the fighting. The marriage. In the living room. With Brokk and Alexei sitting on the replacement furniture acting as audience.
"Start with entering together," Brokk said. "Side by side. Close. Not military close. Married close."
They stood at the doorway. Side by side. Three inches between them.
"Closer," Brokk said.
Two inches.
"Closer."
One inch. Her arm brushing his. The contact sending a pulse through both of them that neither acknowledged.
"Good. Now walk in."
They walked. Matching pace. His hand at his side. Her hand at hers. The gap between their fingers was two inches.
"Take her hand," Brokk said.
Ryuji reached for her hand. His fingers found hers. The contact was electric. Not metaphorically. Her aura pulsed once. A tiny flare. The kind that happens when a demon’s body responds to something before their mind can contain it.
The lights flickered.
"Control the aura," Brokk said.
"I’m controlling it," Selene said through her teeth.
"The lights are flickering."
"Controlling it requires effort."
"Channel it down."
"I’m channeling."
"Channel harder."
"I’M CHANNELING AS HARD AS I CAN."
Her hand tightened around Ryuji’s. His heartbeat spiked. She heard it. Of course she heard it. She heard everything.
"Ninety-six," she murmured.
"Stop counting."
"Can’t."
"During the inspection you can’t narrate my heartbeat."
"I’ll try."
"You’ll fail."
"Probably."
They sat on the couch. Brokk watched. Alexei ate an apple. The audience of two men who were witnessing the most painful rehearsal in the history of Avarthos.
"Put your arm around her," Brokk said.
Ryuji’s arm moved. Behind her shoulders. Not touching. Hovering. The space between his arm and her back was three inches of charged air.
"Contact," Brokk said.
His arm settled. Around her shoulders. His hand resting on her upper arm. The weight of it was warm. Heavy. The kind of heavy that meant something.
Her breathing changed.
"Aura," Brokk warned.
"I know."
"The vase on the table is vibrating."
"I KNOW."
"Deep breaths."
She breathed. The vase stopped vibrating. The lights stabilized. Ryuji’s arm stayed where it was. Around the most powerful demon princess in Avarthos. Who was trying very hard not to vibrate furniture with her emotions.
"Better," Brokk said. "Now. Conversation. The inspector will ask questions. You need to answer as a couple. Practice. Ryuji. How did you meet?"
"At an altar," Ryuji said. "She tried to kill me within the hour."
"WRONG ANSWER," Brokk said. "Selene. How did you meet?"
"At an altar," Selene said. "It was a beautiful ceremony."
"Better. What do you love about your husband?"
Silence.
"He..." Selene started. Stopped. Started again. "He cooks."
"You love that he cooks."
"I love his cooking."
"That’s not the same thing."
"It’s adjacent."
"Ryuji. What do you love about your wife?"
Silence.
"Her determination," he said.
Everyone looked at him.
"She tries to kill me every morning," he continued. "Most people would stop after the first failure. She hasn’t stopped. She tried a war hammer. A crossbow. A neurotoxin. Each time she adapts. Each time she approaches it differently. She’s the most committed person I’ve ever met. At anything. Including my death."
"That’s..." Brokk started.
"Concerning?" Alexei offered.
"Romantic," Brokk said. "Disturbingly."
Selene was staring at Ryuji. Her mouth slightly open. The man had just described her murder attempts as admirable determination. And some deeply broken part of her brain was responding to it like a compliment.
"You’re insane," she said.
"Probably."
"You just said you love that I try to kill you."
"I said I love your determination."
"YOUR DETERMINATION TO MURDER ME."
"The determination itself. The murder is incidental."
"I’m going to kill you."
"I know. You’re very determined."
She grabbed a cushion. Hit him with it. The cushion exploded. Feathers everywhere. The replacement cushion from the replacement furniture. Destroyed.
"New cushion," Brokk said. Writing on his clipboard. "Add it to the budget."
"I don’t have a budget," Ryuji said.
"YOU KEEP SAYING THAT."
The rehearsal continued for two hours. Eye contact practice. Conversation practice. Sitting-together practice. Walking-through-doors practice. Each exercise more painful than the last.
At midnight they went to the bedroom. The wall had been repaired. Fresh plaster. Smooth. No cracks.
Ryuji sat on the bed. Not against the wall. On the bed. The first time.
Selene stood by the window. Watching him.
"You said you love my determination," she said.
"I said I admire it."
"You said love."
"Did I?"
"You know you did."
"I process words differently."
"You process everything differently."
He was sitting on the left side. The side closest to the wall. His hands on his knees. The posture of a man sitting on a bed for the first time in nine days and not knowing what to do with his body.
She walked to the bed. Sat on the right side. Her side. The distance between them was two feet. The width of a mattress. The distance they’d been maintaining since the wedding. The distance that had been shrinking every day.
"The inspector arrives tomorrow," she said.
"Yes."
"We need to be convincing."
"Yes."
"We need to touch and smile and look at each other like we..." She stopped. "Like we chose this."
"We did choose this. In the throne room."
"You said sure." fгeewёbnoѵel.cσm
"It was a choice."
"Sure is not a choice."
"It was my choice."
She looked at him. The dead eyes. The scar. The wrinkled shirt that he’d started calling a combat shirt and that she’d started finding strangely... not terrible.
"Tomorrow," she said. "We perform. We convince the inspector that this marriage is real."
"It is real."
"It’s a contract."
"It has walls and a kitchen and three cups of coffee every morning."
"That doesn’t make it real."
"What does?"
She didn’t answer. Because the answer was forming in a place she hadn’t allowed herself to look. The answer was in the heartbeat numbers and the pillow scent and the shoulder massage and the thunderstorm corner and the pancakes that were made with hands that bled for her at night.
The answer was in every "sure" and every "fine" and every morning she didn’t kill him.
The answer was getting louder.
"Goodnight, wife," he said.
"Goodnight..."
She stopped. The word she’d been about to say hung in the dark. Not wife. Something else. Something she’d never called him.
"Goodnight, Ryuji," she finished.
First time she’d used his name. Nine days of "human" and "insect" and "you" and "husband." His name. From her lips. In the dark.
His heartbeat went to one hundred and fourteen.
She heard every beat.
She smiled.
In the dark. Where he couldn’t see. Where no one could see. The most powerful demon princess in Avarthos smiled because a man’s heartbeat spiked when she said his name.
Then she pulled the blanket over her face and bit the pillowcase and tried very hard not to think about what that smile meant.
She failed.
----------------------
[System Log: Day 10]
[NAME USAGE LOG:]
[DAYS 1-9: "HUMAN." "INSECT." "YOU." "HUSBAND."]
[DAY 10: "RYUJI"]
[FIRST NAME USAGE: CONFIRMED]
[HUSBAND HEARTBEAT RESPONSE: 114 BPM]
[WIFE SMILE DETECTED: YES. IN THE DARK. WHERE HE CAN’T SEE.]
[SHE THINKS NO ONE NOTICED]
[I NOTICED]
[...]
[INSPECTOR ARRIVES TOMORROW]
[THE FAKE MARRIAGE MUST LOOK REAL]
[THE JOKE IS THAT IT ALREADY IS]
[THEY JUST DON’T KNOW IT YET]
[...]
[ATTEMPT COUNT: 4]
[PANCAKE COUNT: 10]
[ASSASSINS KILLED: 25]
[NAME USAGE: 1]
[SMILES IN THE DARK: 1]
[CUSHIONS DESTROYED: 8]
[THE NUMBERS ARE TELLING THE SAME STORY THEY ALWAYS TELL]
[TWO PEOPLE WHO ARE ALREADY IN LOVE]
[Pretending they’re not]
END OF Chapter 10
