Unrequited

by Camille Oster

  "Very slowly. The humans are digging in on issues."

  Tarquin honestly didn't care. Agreements were part of his father's job; Tarquin just dealt with things when someone didn't adhere to them.

  "The new girl, Miss Samra, is proving particularly difficult. Feels the need to argue the air she breathes."

  "Must be tiresome."

  "It is what it is," Adaeus said. Silence settled for a moment. "Where is she?"

  Tarquin knew Adaeus was referring to Cassandra, or Felicity, more accurately. They hadn't spoken about her departure, but Adaeus hadn't argued when she suddenly disappeared and no one was tracking her down. His father had left this issue to Tarquin's judgement. "Sydney."

  "Perhaps it does you little good to keep tabs on her."

  "I want to know she is faring well."

  "She is none of your concern." That statement alone showed that Adaeus had some understanding of what this all meant.

  Tarquin drew in a breath and exhaled again. At this point, he wasn't able to completely let her go—maybe in the future. But for right now, he needed to know she was alright. He'd gone so far as to pave the way for her, ensuring a good job was offered and that a nice apartment became available at a reasonable price.

  He just needed to know she was out there roaming free, slowly absorbed into a new life, a happy life with lightness and beauty. Before long she would meet someone and that would hurt. "Castran doesn't understand."

  "He is young and idealistic."

  Perhaps he would never stop watching her, Tarquin conceded. His own future was dark, cold and bleak, and he wasn't ready to embrace it fully. He might be better off if he did, but suspected the pain was better than nothingness.

  "Eventually this will fade," Adaeus said, straightening and walking to the door. "In time."

  Tarquin feared it fading, feared what he'd become—but he was damned either way; he couldn't have her, his barren heart wouldn't survive, unable to embrace his own hypocrisy, and he couldn't let her go. Maybe this tentative limbo would be all he ever had, and he would cherish it for as long as it provided a pithy means of holding back the darkness.

  PART III - ADAEUS

  Chapter 27:

  * * *

  Tarquin was still distracted by his own loss. It was unfortunate, but Adaeus knew these things could not always be controlled. He had been there once, a long time ago when he was young. It had ended badly, and it had almost killed him with distraction and weakness. Since, he had sworn to never go there again, and the oath had served him well.

  His marriage had perhaps been cold, but it had suited him. Cecile had given him two sons without expecting much more. She had been perfect that way, eventually succumbing to illness and dying. Adaeus hadn't mourned her exactly, but he had tried his best to make her as comfortable as he could—he'd owed her that.

  Leaving through the main entrance, the car was waiting for him. Tarquin had accompanied him to these negotiations for a while, but Adaeus could tell his interest had fleeted of late. Perhaps it was time to educate Castran on the political intricacies related to running an empire. This part of the business would never be something Tarquin excelled at, which meant Castran would need to be trained and encouraged. But his younger son was also dealing with unusual circumstances, an attack which had left him shaken, but he was young and resilient.

  The car sped down Parisian streets until they reached the municipal building where negotiations had been held for the past few months. In Adaeus' younger days, there would have been no negotiations, he would have destroyed everything in his path, but he was more circumspect now. It was better for business to work under the radar, and that required the existing structure to remain intact.

  The building was cold when he got there, not that he would freeze. Miss Samra was there, waiting with her light brown hair tied back into a tight bun. Clear, large eyes considered him suspiciously and he smiled. Her mouth always grew a little tighter when he did. She thought him arrogant. He was arrogant. These negotiations were happening with his allowance. Every single one of them would disappear at his request. He could even do it himself if he so wished. There was a certain beauty in violence, but more often than not it included a sacrifice of one's wardrobe in exchange for satisfaction. Violence in and of itself achieved very little. It was useful in keeping the status quo, however.

  Miss Samra stood, wearing a light shirt under a dove-gray blouse. Her neck looked impossibly thin. By all appearance a fragile thing, but she was tougher than her appearance suggested. Adaeus could still rip her apart with such ease if he chose. He doubted she knew this.

  "Miss Samra," Adaeus said indulgently. "I trust you are rested."

  "Of course," she said as she always did, sitting down in her chair. He did enjoy how she refused to show weakness. In truth, there was little strength behind her other than her own mettle. She had a boyfriend who was cheating on her, although she was largely unaware of this. Adaeus did suspect that on some level she knew—women always knew, and she was deluding herself. It was a weakness that Adaeus thought less of her for, being a man who made it his business to know what others did behind his back.

  Adaeus was perhaps not a great lover of women, knowing they could be as mercenary as the most expensive soldiers on the market. But Miss Samra wasn't mercenary; she believed fully in what she was doing, that this negotiation was for the good of France, and that she was her nation's protector. Nowhere in her mind did she expect this was merely an act of manipulation.

  It wasn't to say that there were no risks. A complete breakdown of relationships could have negative consequences, even to the point where they could be driven out of Paris in order to keep the revenues flowing. War only upset business and a balance was mutually beneficial. The humans would lose heavily financially if they lost the Chartrice industrial activities, but Adaeus knew humans were prone to such irrationality if pushed too far.

  Miss Samra, however, prided herself on her rationality. She also feared she was out of her depth and that made her angry, scared she was being trapped and manipulated into a concession she didn't fully understand the implications of. She was out of her depth and Adaeus was teasing her, pushing her a little bit more each day. At least she was more colorful than the staid and passionless civil servant that was previously tasked with concluding these negotiations.

  "Now, Miss Samra, you cannot make us responsible for what factions of your society does."

  "Even when those factions are supporting your operations?"

  "They merely offer a service we make use of."

  "You are knowingly supporting unlawful activity."

  "We are doing no such thing," he drawled.

  Color crept up Miss Samra's cheeks. Not for the first time, he wondered why the humans had made this young woman their chief negotiator. Perhaps they believed he'd be swayed by her beauty. He was appreciative; it did make for more interesting sessions dealing with an opponent who blushed.

  Adaeus checked his watch. This was as per usual getting nowhere. "Now, I'm afraid I must pull myself away from your delightful company, Miss Samra." He rose, but paused before turning away. "Now, next session won't be for a while," he said.

  "But we have a session planned next week," Miss Samra said, looking stumped.

  "Well, that will have to wait. If you insist on meeting next week, you will have to come to me. I am sure you can accommodate me," he stated with absolute assuredness.

  He smiled. It always disturbed Miss Samra if there was the slightest hint of a sexual undertone. Again something that made these negotiations more interesting. Miss Samra, however, was much too wary of him to ever allow her mind to travel in that direction. She would never let an attraction flourish, and Adaeus was grateful. Miss Samra trying to seduce him would be tiresome. Perhaps that was why he had a modicum of respect for her.

  "Until next time," he said and turned, striding out of the room decorated in antique baroque fashion. The humans had purposefully chosen this room, thinking it would put h
im in a position of awe. It was a pitiful understanding of luxury. Décor didn't make luxury, having anything you wanted did and that was a position Adaeus excelled at. Perhaps it was an understanding he was ready for Miss Samra to comprehend.

  The car silently drove back to Chartrice headquarters and Adaeus' mind grew darker. The issue of his sons encroached. Damaging winds have been blowing of late and both had been injured in their wake—fortunately not to the point where the house fell down, but these winds had still caused injury. Adaeus despised not having anyone to blame for misfortunes.

  "Call Castran down," he told the butler when he walked through the entrance. The man nodded and went to do Adaeus' bidding.

  He had sat down at his desk by the time Castran appeared, walking casually into Adaeus' study and sitting down heavily in a spare chair. The young man's carefree nature hid things now. It had never used to.

  "We need to discuss your marriage to Claudine," Adaeus said and watched as Castran grimaced. This was another development of these bad winds—Castran was no longer complicit with this marriage. The young man's mouth tightened. "Rebellion is tedious," Adaeus said coolly.

  "I'm not sure I want to embrace marriage."

  "An heir is required, and can only be gotten through marriage." Bastards were not something Adaeus was ready to accept. He still believed in the old ways; the ways of this society.

  Castran winced again. "I'm not ready."

  "It matters little if you're ready. It must be done. The agreement was struck long ago." Getting up, Castran paced to the window.

  "You cannot marry a ghost," Adaeus said and got no response. Castran's shoulders held tightly.

  "I cannot marry Claudine, either. I do not love her and I never will. She deserves more than a loveless marriage."

  "Girls like Claudine were not raised to believe in love. This marriage is an absolute triumph for her. Marriage has always been a transaction. You know that." The bargain made for Tarquin’s marriage had never worked out. Madness had claimed the girl long before it could be enacted. Madness was not an uncommon issue in their society.

  This new development in Castran's disposition was unfortunate. "What point is there in dwelling in what can never be?" Adaeus continued. "There is something to be said for getting on with life. A son will give you the meaning you seek. Family is everything."

  "Is it? Maybe this family only destroys."

  "No, Castran, family is everything; it always has been. And it is your time to defend yours. Marry this girl, beget an heir, then you can do as you wish. A wife is never the great encumberment you imagine."

  "I will not marry her," Castran said like a petulant child.

  Adaeus sighed with annoyance, remembering a time when he'd been foolish and headstrong in his youth, where idealism seemed to mean something. "You will come around, Castran. There are no alternatives. Your ghost is gone and she is not coming back. You may choose to sulk for a while, but at some point you will have to pull yourself together and get on with it. We all did at some point."

  "Is that why Tarquin let Cassandra go?"

  "Sometimes things are more complicated than you understand."

  "What's so complicated about it? I don’t get it. It’s actually really simple."

  "It gets very complicated if you cannot give what the other person needs." It was a sad truth, but it was the position Tarquin was in. Adaeus recognized the temptation in love, but also knew he would never be able to return it. For Tarquin, he suspected things were more complicated, which made the decision to distance her all the more imperative.

  Chapter 28:

  * * *

  Hopson knocked discreetly on Adaeus' study door. He knew it was Hopson by the lightness of the knock.

  "What is it, Hopson?" Adaeus asked, putting down the documents he was reviewing.

  The door cracked open and Hopson half appeared. "There is a visitor, a Miss Samra."

  Leaning back, Adaeus considered what he heard. Miss Samra, here. For what possible reason? This was not a scheduled meeting time and Miss Samra never met outside it. Could she have information she wanted to share? He doubted it. The girl was resolutely against him, her distrust evident in her eyes, too wary to be charmed. It was tiresome really.

  This was a development, and Adaeus didn't always like unforeseen developments. But he conceded there could be opportunity in everything if approached right. "See her up."

  "She is wet, sir."

  "Wet?"

  "Dripping."

  Turning to the dark window, Adaeus saw the distortion of water on the pane. She had walked here in the rain. He frowned.

  "I will come down. Perhaps a towel, Hopson," Adaeus said and rose, buttoning his waistcoat and checking the clock on the wall. It was eleven in the evening, too late for either a business or social call. This did indicate that something about this was off.

  His steps echoed off the marble as he walked down the hall, taking the large, sweeping staircase down to the main entrance hall. She stood there, her back to him, in a slim dress made out of dark blue satin, with bare shoulders. Perhaps it was a lighter blue, but the water made it dark. It fit her perfectly, showing every feminine curve. He should see her shivering.

  "Miss Samra," he said and she turned around. Her hair was wet and her mascara had run slightly.

  She smiled, a sight he rarely saw. "I am sorry for the intrusion. I was out and it started raining." She didn't say anything more, her eyes following him as he took the last few steps down. Hopson appeared with a towel. Taking it, Adaeus handed it to Miss Samra, whose fingers were cold to the touch.

  "You must warm. Is the fire prepared in the parlor?" he asked Hopson.

  "I believe so."

  "Something warm then, tea perhaps."

  Miss Samra had the towel clutched to her chest.

  "Come," Adaeus said, "we must warm you."

  He urged her to move ahead of him and she did, half turning every few steps to ensure he was following.

  In terms of negotiation tactics, this was unusual—to place oneself in such a position. Was it designed to engage protective qualities in him? It would be a rare and strange tactic, and probably not planned by someone who knew him well.

  "And where have you been tonight?" he asked, watching as she walked, seeing the water drip on the floor, leaving wet footprints. Black pumps showed off her calf muscles as she lifted the hem of her dress to walk up the stairs. She wasn't doing a terribly good job with the towel.

  "The opera," she said, smiling again. She had a lovely smile, he had to concede, although he was still bemused about this whole scenario. "It was lovely—Puccini."

  "Ah, Puccini is always nice," he said, too distracted trying to understand this turn of events to place any real thought to if there was meaning in this opera she mentioned.

  "Were you alone?"

  "No, I was with… I lost him somewhere."

  Probably to the arms of his mistress, Adaeus wanted to say. She didn't elaborate further.

  But apparently she couldn't quite recall her boyfriend’s name. This was strange. She seemed so attached to this man, this accountant who abused her trust. And now, she couldn’t remember his name. Something was definitely off, or else she was acting as if she didn’t know his name. For what purpose? He still struggled to see any rhyme or reason in this.

  She stopped and he opened the door to the rarely used parlor. It was sumptuously decorated in red and dark wood, perhaps out of fashion by current day standards, a throwback to a different era, one Adaeus preferred to the stark, minimalist lines of contemporary fashion.

  "It would be best that you sit by the fire, Miss Samra."

  She followed his direction and sat in the plush arm chair, leaning over her legs, unwittingly showing him more of her cleavage—white, small breasts. She was cold. Clasping her hands, she tried to increase her circulation. A contented smile spread across her lips, which were now bare from whatever lipstick she'd worn this evening.

  Hopson arrived with the tea
service, placing it on a small table between the chairs. Adaeus sat forward and poured a cup, handing it over to Miss Samra, whose hand made the cup rattle on its little plate.

  "I am curious why you sought refuge here, Miss Samra," he said coolly.

  She looked up, her eyes bright. "I just thought of you and knew you'd help me."

  An absurd statement. Perhaps the girl had had a shock and lost her senses. "When you are done, I can have the car take you home."

  "No," she said, half standing. The vehemence of her reaction surprised him. "No, I prefer to stay."

  Absently, she placed the cup of tea untouched on the small table beside her, watching him intently.

  "You should have your tea," he said and watched her as she picked it up again, putting her slim finger in the cup's handle and bringing it to her lips. She watched him the whole time and a spear of concern crawled up his spine.

  "You can't stay here, Miss Samra."

  "No, I must. I can't go home," she pleaded.

  "And why not?"

  "Because I must be with you."

  Calmly, Adaeus pressed his lips together. "Hopson," he called. It took a few moments for his butler to appear.

  "We must prepare a room for Miss Samra, I think. Somewhere with chains." He rose and Miss Samra followed suit. "No, you will stay here," he said firmly. She seemed to listen, tentatively taking her seat again, watching him like a hunting dog ready to take direction. "Hopson will take you to your room."

  He heard a peep from her when he walked to the door. Awkwardly turning, he considered her as she sat looking earnest and longingly at him. "I will see you later," he said and she looked assured. "Chain her," he said quietly to Hopson and retreated back to his study.

  The chair groaned when he sat back again. He cursed. Clearly his negotiating nemesis had been influenced by some form of magics—an influence or potion of some sort. Her obsession would only worsen and all concerned would be better off if she were kept hidden.