“Where is he?” a furious shout exploded into the silence, propelling Edmund out of his armchair, the glass of brandy sloshing in his hand.
He backed up, squinting at the study door until he could make out the rectangle of it more clearly.
“If you do not tell me where he is, I shall search every inch of this manor until I have found the beast!” the voice bellowed again, more familiar this time, less muffled by the effects of the brandy.
Footsteps thundered in the hallway outside, and Edmund turned in a clumsy circle, trying to find something he could use to defend himself. Instead, he ended up so dizzy that he had no choice but to sink back into the comfort of the armchair and wait for the fury to reach him.
It did, a minute later.
The study door blasted open, a familiar figure marching in with a pitch dark cloud hanging over his head and the devil in his eyes.
“I trusted you,” Vincent seethed, wasting no time. “I asked you to guard one of the most precious things I have in my life, and you… you tarnished her! Not only that, but you ran like a coward! I went to your townhouse, I saw that it was closed up, but I knew where you would be. I knew where you would hide.”
He strode over to where Edmund sat listlessly and grabbed his oldest friend by the front of the shirt. Perhaps, Vincent meant to haul him to his feet, but the brandy and the dizziness had turned Edmund into a dead weight.
So, Vincent leaned in instead, leveling those burning eyes at Edmund. “I ought to kill you for what you have done, Edmund. I ought to beat you black and blue. She is the best of us, Edmund! She is good and kind and sweet and honorable, and you… you took advantage!”
Edmund met his friend’s eyes with resignation, his shoulders slumping as he set down his brandy glass. “Do what you will, Vincent. I deserve it.”
“What?”
“If it is satisfaction that you seek, I will not argue. If you wish to duel me, I will accept. If you wish to beat me black and blue,I will not stop you. If you want to make an example of me, do what you must,” Edmund replied, his words like thick honey in his mouth.
Vincent hesitated, frowning as if he had expected a fight from his oldest friend, a protest at least. “I brought my pistols. I am entirely serious, Edmund. For what you have done, a duel is not nearly enough to make amends.”
“I am serious too.” Edmund blinked slowly.
“No, you are drunk,” Vincent spat, letting go of Edmund’s shirt with a disgusted shove.
Edmund sank back into the chair, not bothering to adjust the twisted fabric or refasten the buttons that had popped open. He had already dishonored the vow he had made to his fallen family by kissing Isolde and feeling things he should not; it only made sense that he should resemble the wretch he was.
“I might be somewhat inebriated,” he said, “but I am still serious. Punish me however you see fit. If it is to be a duel, give me until dawn to sober up and I will meet you wherever you please.”
Some of the bluster seemed to drain out of Vincent as he took to pacing the flagstone floor of the study, sweeping a hand through his sandy blond hair. His eyes lost a few degrees of their intense burn, too, as they darted from Edmund to the door and back again.
“What if I want something else?” Vincent asked presently.
Edmund closed one eye to see his friend better. “What can I give to make amends?”
“What if I demand that you marry Isolde without delay,” Vincent replied, halting in his frantic pacing.
He looked as disheveled as Edmund felt, and it delivered a second sting to Edmund’s guilt, that he had caused his oldest and dearest friend such distress.
How did you find out?he wanted to ask, wondering if it was Isolde herself who had informed him. Not that he would have blamed her. In truth, part of him had been waiting for this moment, certain that there was some manner of repercussion coming for him. When one kissed a divine being, giving in to base, mortal impulses, the heavens rarely allowed that person to get away with it.
Edmund considered the request for a short while. “If that is what you want, and Isolde will have me, then I will do it.” He paused, rubbing his hand against the burning sensation in his chest. “However, I do not want Isolde tohaveto marry me out of duty.”
“It is rather too late for your concern; do you not think?” Vincent growled, resuming a slower strut back and forth.
“No, I do not think it is.” Edmund swallowed a hiccup. “Her honor, I assure you, is intact. And I should hate to see her forcedinto a union of misery because of a grave mistake thatImade. Why, unless I have missed some condemning news and all of society is aware of what happened, she is still free to marry whomever she pleases. Why not make it someone she could actually love?”
Vincent halted so sharply that his boots squeaked on the smooth flagstones. He whipped around, glaring at Edmund as if he was waiting for some sort of trick to reveal itself. Edmund stared back with a sad smile, wishing he had never pulled Isolde away from Noah, yet unable to fully regret the fact that he would always know what it was like to be kissed by her.
I may go on to live a solitary existence—even more solitary now—but I shall always remember that one shining moment.
It was bittersweet, remembering those fleeting minutes where everything was blissful, and anything was possible.If he had not been roused to his senses in time, he had no doubt that he would have broken his vow completely, there and then, whispering a proposal of marriage against her lips as he kissed her.
Vincent stamped over to the empty armchair, opposite Edmund’s, and slumped down into it. He draped one leg over the thigh of the other, jigging his foot in anxious contemplation.
