Elizabeth Haydon - Destiny - Child of the Sky

-

Rhapsody’s brow furrowed. “None; why should there be any? If this belongs to you, Constantin, you’re entitled to it. You don’t have to fight for what is yours here, this is not Sorbold.”

“Then why did you steal it in the first place?”

Rhapsody swallowed the insult. “I didn’t steal it,” she said as gently as she could. “I brought it because I thought it might be special to you. I had no intention of ever returning you to that gladiatorial complex, so I thought it best to get what you might need or want to have while I could.” She rose and crossed to where he stood, took his hand and placed the chain in it, then closed his fingers around it.

Constantin looked down at the trinket in his hand. His eyes lost some of the intensity of the moment before, which was replaced by a deeper, more complex expression. He stared at the necklace for several moments, then looked back up at Rhapsody.

“Thank you,” he said. His voice was uncharacteristically quiet. She nodded. “You’re welcome. I’ll get out of your way now.” She turned and opened the door.

“You’re right,” he said quickly; she turned to face him in surprise, having thought the conversation finished. “About what?”

He looked down for a moment. “This is something I need and want to have.” It was the closest he had ever come to initiating a conversation; Rhapsody could tell instinctively that he wanted it to continue. She closed the door, folded her arms and leaned back against it. “Was it a gift from someone special?”

Constantin stared at her; she was becoming more used to the unsettling look. Then he went to the bed and sat down. “Yes,” he said. “My mother.”

It took a moment before Rhapsody realized her mouth was open; she closed it abruptly. “You knew your mother?”

The gladiator shook his head; the sunlight that filtered through the window caught his white-blond hair and made it burn golden for an instant. “No. All I have is a fragment of a memory, one that I’m not even certain is real.”

She came to the bed and sat down beside him; he did not move or tense as she thought he might if her closeness was unwelcome. “What is it, if you don’t mind my asking?”

Constantin ran the necklace through his fingers; it gleamed in the sunlight as well. “Just the image of a woman with love in her eyes and a gift.”

Rhapsody own eyes stung at his words. She patted his shoulder. It was meant to be a gesture of sympathy, but it made the gladiator jump away, cringing. Rhapsody’s face froze in alarm.

“I’m very sorry,” she stammered. “I didn’t mean to upset you.” She rose hastily and hurried to the door again.

“Rhapsody, wait.” Constantin stood and came to her, stopping a few feet away. She looked down at the floor; the last thing she wanted was to agitate him further. “You didn’t upset me. I’m trying not to hurt or frighten you again.”

Rhapsody met his glance; his eyes were gleaming with blue intensity, but with none of the ferocity they had held the night she had stolen him from Sorbold. Perhaps even just the slight amount of demonic blood that had been removed from him had made him more human.

“Constantin, whatever happened in Sorbold was my fault alone. The plan was stupid and ill considered, and any reaction you had was due to my miscalculation. I ask your forgiveness, and I hope you understand that no matter how callous or manipulative it seemed, I really was trying to help you.”

Constantin nodded. “I’ve noticed that you often seem to feel compelled to do that.” The depth of his voice made him seem much older than his years. “I think that’s why it’s so hard for me to be in the same room with you.”

“If my presence is disturbing, I’ll try to avoid—

“It’s not,” he interrupted. “It’s more, well, distracting.” He looked out the window; as the sunset grew rosier, his voice became softer. “I guess I have just never known a truly gentle person before. I don’t know how to behave around you.”

Rhapsody laughed. “There are quite a few people in this world who would find your description of me amusing. And you’re doing fine, really.”

“It’s a struggle,” he said. The words seemed to surprise him a moment later, having slipped out easily. “The necklace is not the only thing I need and want to have.” He averted his eyes as the color of the sunset came over his face.

Rhapsody’s throat tightened, and heat coursed through her. Unconsciously her hand went to her throat. It came to rest on the locket she always wore. A thought came to her, and she carefully opened the clasp and removed the necklace. When Constantin worked up the courage to look back at her she held it up for him to see.

“I guess we have something in common,” she said. “This is all I have left of my mother, too.” The tears that had crept into her eyes welled again.

“Do you dream of her?”

Rhapsody turned away. “Not anymore,” she said sadly. “I used to, but now she never comes to me in my dreams. I cannot see her face.”

“I dream of my mother every night,” said Constantin. “I have no idea if she was anything like what she seems in my dreams.”

“How does she seem?”

“Kind. I suppose that proves it’s just a dream and not a memory.” He sat back down on the bed.

“Why?”

The gladiator looked up at her and smiled ironically. “Obviously you don’t believe in family traits.”

Rhapsody moved back a little to get a better look at him. “Are you saying you are unkind?” The gladiator’s laughter caught her off-guard and she jumped. She waited until he stopped, then looked at him seriously. “I wasn’t joking.”

-

Constantin’s face lost its smile. “Yes; it should be obvious even to you that kindness and I haven’t been formally introduced.” He looked away. “I have seen it from afar, however, though perhaps only once.”

Rhapsody looked down at her hands. “Perhaps you and kindness are better friends than you think.” She could feel his eyes stare at her questioningly, and she struggled to keep from turning warm under his gaze, but she was unsuccessful; the blood rushed to her face, stinging her cheeks as they reddened. Awkwardly she sat down in the chair again.

“Would you care to explain what you are talking about?”

“You could have hurt me that night if you had wanted to,” she said, staring at the calluses on her fingers. “I know you were moved by my fear; I saw the cruelty dim in your eyes. Despite what your world has been, you have maintained some compassion, even if it is just a seed.” Her words sounded vaguely familiar to her; she thought back to the night Ashe had first come to her in Elysian.

I love that you have survived the cataclysm of your whole world, and have lived among monsters, and still always attribute honorable intentions to people.

Constantin smiled ruefully. “You’re wrong, Rhapsody. I had no intention of letting you go that night. I would have hurt you, and enjoyed doing so. You don’t know me very well.”

Rhapsody finally found the courage to look into his eyes. “Perhaps. And perhaps I know you better than you think. Do you still want to hurt me?”

The gladiator stood suddenly and crossed to the farthest corner of the room. “Perhaps it is best if you go now.”

“As you wish.” Rhapsody rose as well, and went to the door. She turned and looked at his back, the muscles coiled like a spring. “I’m not afraid of you, Constantin.”

“You’re also not very bright, I’m sorry to say.”

She laughed. “Well, there’s no denying the truth in that, but in fact I have seen far crueler men than you; I’ve suffered much worse atrocities at their hands than anything you could ever have inflicted on me. I can tell the difference between a warped spirit and an evil one. Your soul is twisted, Constantin, not rotten. It just needs some time to stretch and some sunlight to purify it again. You’ll be good as new in no time.”