He turned around, holding her hand gently. Caius could not see the process of emotions passing through her face as he escorted her to the dance circle, where every man held a woman and began to dance in a neat circle, slowly... wavering only with the music of the orchestra.
She was taken back to yesterday... when nobody was here except him, accompanying her in a silent dance. Today, dressed in clothes uncomfortable but rich in material, surrounded by various types of people, she felt self-aware, but—
"Whenever we dance, trust me..." Caius had eyes gazing at her with love. "I will guide you until you learn it well." It was then that Odette realized she had stopped fearing the presence of his dead-black eyes. She stared at his face—focused upon her and her only.
The night seemed to age like fine wine. Every minute spent together was filled with laughter or his sarcastic comments. One moment he would be greeting someone, and the next he would explain how one time that certain guest nearly escaped dying by his hands after screwing up an assigned job. All the women surrounding him...the fame and the respect... none of it compared to her presence falling like a soft petal, shaking ripples across his crystallized heart.
It was two hours before midnight when he brought her out to walk together in the hallways. The entire mansion was lively. All the butlers were dressed in neatly pressed white, and the maidens adorned in maroon gowns. Children played freely in the gardens near the kitchen, and some slept early after being fed. Even the demanding guards, who usually scared people away, looked calm and poised, offering smiles and greetings to every guest.
"You've certainly planned it well, Caius." Odette smiled as she said this. At her comment, he responded with raised eyebrows, acting as if he had done nothing but order others around. It was playful—like a child looking for trouble.
"If you think this is done well," he nodded, "I know everyone else also thinks the same."
As they kept walking, she began to feel her feet ache. Slowly, she glanced around and heaved a quiet sigh. This did not go unnoticed.
"Tired?"
"Not at all." She looked down and shrugged. "Just my heels causing a little pain, but I'll be fine once I take them off." While uttering this, she removed them and picked them up in one hand. Then, as if she had won a victory over thousands, she beamed at Caius. "Problem solved."
He chuckled, shaking his head. Resuming the silent walk, they soon arrived at the entrance of the library. Odette gave him a knowing look.
"There's a couch inside." She bobbed her head. "And we walked for some time..."
Leaning over, Caius took the shoes from her hand and opened the doors. "Please," he said, ushering her in.
When the music and the lively evidence of guests dimmed, they knew they were far from the spotlight. She sat on the couch and leaned back, sighing happily. Caius switched on all the lights and walked toward her, kneeling right in front of her.
"Whenever my mother had leg pain back in the day..." He looked at her, muttering a soft "May I?" before placing her left leg on his thigh. "I used to give her a little massage over her ankle." While saying this, he held her calf with one hand, rubbing his thumb in circles over her ankle with the other.
She could not decide what response deserved such a sudden act. Silently, respecting him as he spoke, she listened.
"She would walk with me, hand in hand..." He smiled and moved his hands a little above her ankle, gently massaging her calf. "When I wanted to walk to the garden, she would follow..." He chuckled. "When I ran off to the chicken coop near the conservatory, she would follow."
His hands moved slowly, bringing ease to her exhausted muscles.
Her heart ached at the way he mourned her loss. "She followed you wherever you went?"
He nodded. "I could go to the deepest part of this place, and she would follow..." He switched to her other leg and heaved, "Only after her death... only when I was thrown..."
A pause.
No movement.
Under the sky lit up by stars as vast as sand... under the roof gazing upon the sky... under her eyes, full of sympathy, Caius looked away as memories of the dungeon resurfaced. He could not bring himself to speak about those days.
"I think I'm feeling much better now," Odette broke the silence and stopped him by placing her hand on his shoulder. "Thank you, Caius."
All those heavy memories and the throbbing wounds in his heart hid in the back of his mind. A complex expression flooded his face. He felt the urge to vomit and also felt a strange sense of sobering down. Nothing made sense—except her eyes, smiling softly, making things a little better.
"When Gideon walks around in my small apartment, I follow him sometimes." Odette gently squeezed his shoulder, patting it. "I am sure your mother did it not only to protect you, but because your presence..."
He had so many words to say. He wanted to scream that it was never her fault, that it was this doomed bloodline. Everything he ever did was to save himself and his family. He wanted to walk away. Caius needed to hide his face, tainted with layers of blood from every person who died at his hands that day. Nothing stopped him from wanting to push her away, to warn her to run and never look back at a sinner like him... but there was a sudden urge. A sudden thought whispers, "I'm done trying."
A sudden desire to let go of the exhausting push and pull.
She could see how still and tense he was. That was why her hand moved from his shoulder to his head, rubbing circles on his forehead, easing his tension.
"I think she enjoyed your presence and followed you around," she whispered. Her eyes smiled, and he loved it. "Because she loved you, and you loved her... and in her eyes, Caius..." Even her own thoughts faltered. Odette did not know why she needed to say this, but following her gut, she blurted out:
"You were only her son—not right or wrong—just Caius, her son."
Under the light shining subtly through the window, she saw his eyes water, melting into fragments of grief frozen within the darkest pits of his rotting wounds. Those words struck exactly where they should have years before. Nothing prepared him for the tears falling down his face... nobody warned him that tonight he would desperately fight the urge to scream and cry.
As she watched in silence, wondering whether her words caused him pain, he slowly looked away, hiding his tear-stained face. This made her feel guilty, so gentle hands cupped his cheeks and brought his eyes back to hers. Her worried eyes widened at the sight of fat tears rolling down his face. As if struck by lightning, her body leaned forward, engulfing him in a tight hug.
They remained silent. Odette softly muttered, "My eyes... and my ears are closed." She felt his shoulders tremble as he buried his face in her neck. "Don't pretend with someone who cannot see and cannot hear."
When he stayed silent, she feared she had done the wrong thing. Her heart doubted her way of helping him. But minutes later, his body began to shake, and his lips tightened.
Caius was battling memories of his mother—her face, her smile, her voice—and suddenly, flashing before him, her lifeless eyes shut tight. He could not hold it back, and that night, he broke down in her embrace.
His shoulders shook as he heaved out cries, deafened by burying his head in her chest. She felt waves of grief pour out of him and held him tighter, slowly patting his back. Their warmth collided, and his silence turned into painful, muffled sobs. He wept the loss of his mother for the first time... out of the cage, as a human being should. He grieved the loss of a loved one in the arms of another, as he was originally entitled to.
Every memory bit at his mind—fighting for crumbs, being cornered and beaten, killing everything in his path to earn freedom.
"I'm sorry," he cried into her chest, creating small pools of tears on her shoulder. "I'm sorry I am like this, Odette."
"Don't say that." Feeling sorry, Odette brought him closer, patting his head. "None of it was for fun... You never did it because you wanted to." Her words made him cry harder, and now she found it difficult to handle the weight shaking in her arms. Suddenly, a tug at her heart—her own mother's memory surfaced.
She held his face and gently pulled back.
"Whenever I was sad, there was something my mother did to ease my pain." When she said this, his face was a mess—cheeks and jawline soaked in tears, eyes filled with pools of regret and pain that no attempt to hide his past could cover. He was breathing fast, his gaze trembling and unfocused.
Pushing away the chaos in her mind, Odette held his face. Before anything could contradict her impulse, she leaned over and wiped his tears with one hand. Then she slowly rubbed her thumb over his cheek and rested her lips on his forehead.
Walls upon walls broke into crumbles that night. His heart beat wildly. Something cracked within him, deep and raw. In one swift movement, he grabbed her waist and began to weep loudly into her lap—kneeling on the ground, hands locked tightly around her.
Odette forced silence into herself and ran her fingers through his hair slowly as he broke apart, letting out all the anger, pain, shame, and blame he carried. All the wounds, plastered over and over, piled upon each other and festered, oozing agony. She could only whisper gentle words and pat his back as he let out historical agony.