Chapter Two: Truth Be Told

I look up to
Everything you are
In my eyes you do no wrong
I've loved you for so long
And after all is said and done
You're still you
Time changes everything
One truth always stays the same
You're still you
After all
You're still you

-Josh Groban

Nine years passed. The memory of her parents’ death faceted itself in the recesses of repression. Life went on; the pain was slowly scrubbed away. Devay grew into the very manor itself. As she spent more time on Lucien’s beaches, the sun grew accustomed to her skin, marking it with a mild tan that was frowned upon by the maids. As she spent more time in his library, the room soon needed another desk just for her. As she grew, so did all her belongings need growth and replacement. Upon her tenth birthday Lucien ordered her to commence being tutored in the arts of a refined lady. Literatures, arithmetic, embroidery, piano lessons, proper etiquette, horse-back riding and eventually, at the age of fourteen, fencing was all in her line of study.

Devay had grown ever closer to Lucien, who had grown quieter as she grew older, as well as Merry and a good half of the staff working at DeCarr manor. Merry had gained a bit of the weight and wrinkly skin that came with age. The maid was now 38 years old and she still stayed and worked at the manor. Devay had been sure that she would leave to find marriage, but she didn’t. And secretly, Devay selfishly was grateful for it.

But she had only just noticed the strangest thing a few months ago and was now thinking fixedly about it almost all of the time. Though Devay would have sworn he was older than Merry when she first met him, Lucien hadn’t grown older at all. He looked exactly the same as he always had. Her search for books and their knowledge on the subject was cautious at first. The matter wasn’t as odd then. But now, after months of entire days spent in the library pouring over books, Devay’s few answered questions had bred many more.

This was the reason she had stopped her ventures of whirlpool watching on the beach as of late. This was the reason she’d been watching Lucien with a new found silence as of late. And this was the reason she was lost deep in thought one chilly November night as she helped Merry polish silver, a now familiar and somewhat therapeutic past time.

“Alright that’s it; I can’t stand the silence any more. What’s all this you’ve been thinkin’ about then?”

Devay was pulled back into reality and her gaze rose from the gravy boat she was caressing and had been for the past fifteen minutes.

“I don’t mean to be so quiet Merry, I am sorry. I’ve just been thinking.”

“Well I can see that Dove! I’ve asked you what about.” She set down a platter and picked up a set of forks and continued to watch Devay, who took her time in offering a response.

“Remember when you said you’ve been at the manor since you were young. That your parents served here as well?” She allowed her mouth to drawl around the words.

“Yes, of course they did.” She continued to look down. She gave the distinct air of wanting to imagine as though the question had never been posed. Her hands went on with their work. But Devay’s constant stare couldn’t be ignored.

“Well, what was Lucien like as a child? You must’ve known him. Your parents both worked here.”

“Lucien as a child? Why would you want to know such a silly thing?” her laugh was jolly, but it also seemed strained. Her eyes closed as she chortled and then returned to her ware as she continued to polish. Never did she meet Devay’s gaze.

“I was just wondering…oh come now Merry, you must know.” The plea was nothing short of distressing for the maid. She set down what was occupying her hands and for the first time that evening, looked the girl in the eyes.

“Why are you asking?” she requested. This was the sort of response that told Devay her normally cheerful friend was gravely serious. Not to mention in knowledge of events she’d rather not be. Devay decided that if she wanted true answers, she’d better start by not turning into a hypocrite.

“I’ve noticed lately how I’ve grown older and so have you and Sara and Elizabeth and Mary-Catherine, and all the other maids. The last nine years show themselves in our faces and skin and eyes. We have aged appropriately. Lucien has not. He has not grown nor aged at all since I have met him and it troubles me, neigh, pricks at every inquisitive nerve ending in my body.”

“Well,” Merry picked up her forks again, “You know what they say: curiosity killed the cat.”

“I am not a cat, Merry. Nor am I child. I’m nearly a woman and I deserve answers. I live with the man for God’s sake. And I love him dearly.” She sighed and reached a hand across the table, laying it over the maid’s own engaged dispense. “My only wish is to understand. Please Merry. I would never dream of using it against him.”

“Have you already guessed or have you no idea?” the old woman sighed. A smile grew and brightened her features with relief.

“I have a number of scattered, rather crude theories, none of them very plausible. But those I got from the library with a bit of guess work combined with my own assumptions. So my theories aren’t exactly sound…” she felt like a failure, but hope was in sight. Like a tiny spark of firelight on a cold, blustery night. If she could only shelter this spark, help it grow somehow.

“Well, here are tidings I reckon you have yet to heed.” Devay, who had been through every book she could get her hands on and considered herself to be very open minded to possibilities, highly doubted this. Never the less she was eager to listen. “Do you believe in Faes, Dove?”

Sleep teased her that night. So exhausted was her body and mind and yet sleep insisted upon dancing before her, unreachable. Merry had told her an almost unfathomable tale of a Fae-witch calling her self Opal, who had come to call on Lucien during a time period that the maid had called The Blood Wars. Devay had not questioned her about this seeing as she was already bordering confusion when the term was mentioned and decided the matter of war would simply confuse her further. Opal had come to the door as a hag in soiled rags on a cold night. Lucien had been having a Christmas celebration and refused to allow the wretch inside, despite the cold weather.

Apparently Opal was part of a council (referred to by mortals as ‘the powers that be’) which had been delegating consequences for offenders of The Blood Code (yet another term Devay was unfamiliar with). These beings had the power to end the Blood Wars, which had been active then, by rearranging the balance between good and bad, cruelty and compassion, humans and nature. Opal had taken pity on the mortal race. Her belief was that it was mortal nature to act this way. That they knew not what they were doing. Though the council was skeptical, it allowed her to test her theory. She tested it on many humans and they all failed. Lucien had been her very last hope, not just to save humanity but to avoid disgrace. When he fell short as well she went mad with rage and cast out such a powerful curse, it destroyed her on the spot, as well as every attendant of Lucien’s party. The staff of DeCarr manor was spared for the reason that they had wanted to take Opal in with out question. Lucien was punished however, not with death, but eternal life in guilt, pain, humility, solitude and everything else he wanted so desperately to leave behind after the episode with Opal.

As you must be able to imagine, this was quite a lot for a sheltered seventeen year old girl to take in. How could she possibly have been living with the same man from Merry’s story all this time? But the maid quickly added that Lucien was a changed man since then and had remained so. Though this solaced Devay minorly, the weight of the rest of the tale remained. Its looming shadow was impossible to shake away. Her thoughts remained bent on inquiry and even more so on going to Lucien himself. The more she told herself to wait for morning, the less plausible it became and the more the idea to go to his chambers consumed her.

Inevitably, Devay pushed her sheets back and rose from her bed. She kept her eyes on the door as she stood and adorned the sleeping robe that would allow her to be decent in the hallways and in Lucien’s presence. The moonlight was throwing crooked shadows of the window panes across the walls and wooden floors. For a moment Devay loitered by one of the casements, so captured was she with the view of the gardens by night. Cool, white light iced the dark green leaves with individual, brushing strokes. Stars littered the background sky like navy velvet pierced with shards of burning sunshine. So passive, calm and balanced. Everything she wasn’t feeling at the moment.

Somewhat comforted by the scene, Devay pressed on. She had a ways to go. Though her chambers resided on the second floor, Lucien dwelled on the third. The wooden stairs groaned angrily on her way up as they sagged under her weight. She was thankful to make it to the end of the flight of steps and the commencement of the third floor corridor. Her steps took her to the very middle of the vestibule where she went to her right around the corner that lead to yet another passageway. Half way down this route was where she found Lucien’s chambers. Though she had always known their whereabouts, she had never come to call on him when he retired here. This was the reason for her standing outside of his door for the whole of ten minutes, scared to knock for either waking him, disturbing him, raising his temper, or worse, all three of those things at once.

‘Will you be damned to stay here forever? Do what you came for.’ The scolding was silent but she was embarrassed all the same. Her eyes focused on the chink of fire light that played on the manor’s dark wood floor. A wince pinched her features as her hollow knock carried down the corridor in an empty echo.

Naturally, being as Devay had never come to his chambers before and being that there were so many maids at DeCarr Manor, Lucien assumed he was being called upon by one of the servants.

“Come in.” But his cool demeanor vanished and his eyes grew wide at the site of her peeking around his door cautiously. They stayed that way for a small while, just staring at each other for understanding. She took in the sight of his outsized room. Heavy drapery clung to most of the room in dark colors. Stained wood furniture adorned the room in an ensemble. The hearth, which was just opposite his bed, was lit and in high spirits. A scarce amount of candles stood scattered on his bedside table and mantle. Rugs were as common as the curtains, hiding the rough wooden floor from the soft skin of his feet. The likes of which Devay was sure had never suffered a day of work in their lives. These were hidden at the moment under thick layers of bed sheets and blanket covers that came up to his bare stomach as he lay in bed. A silver rimmed pair of reading glasses sat bridged on his nose and he was holding a book open in his hands. Bizarre sight. His suits were practically a part of him; the only skin she knew. Dullish grays, blacks, blues and purples constantly weighed down his already lull features. Never had her eyes witnessed his self in such leisure. However as his pale skin soaked up the bright fire light she could not bring her throat to make any comment of objection.

“You are not asleep at this hour?” he asked, half curious half concerned. He took his glasses off and set them on his nightstand. His book fell closed, but stayed in his lap.

“I have been to speak with Merry this night…a-about you.” Shame swooped down upon her conscious. Now in his presence, ill thoughts of Lucien were nothing but pure infidelity and held no merit. A knowing and gentle sigh left his lungs and his book was finally acquainted with his nightstand.

“Come in; be sure to close the door behind you.”

She did as she was told, lingering for a moment by the door. What was she supposed to do? Where was she supposed to go? What was the proper etiquette in a man’s bedroom?

“Go on, take a seat by the fire.”

Thankful for direction, Devay took her seat in one of the overstuffed arm chairs congregated near the happy fireplace. Up close, she now saw that the walls in this corner of the room were inlaid with shelves, upon which many books were situated.

He stood as well and seated himself across from her. Devay had been quite expecting him to cover his torso with at least a shirt, but no such action was taken. He sat before her as normally as if fully dressed in his customary suit. Following his lead, she ignored the issue as best as her mind would allow.

“So you’ve finally heard the story then?”

“O-of Opal, yes.”

His fingertips flexed over his arm rests and he closed his eyes, apparently trying to not only take this sudden information in, but to retrain himself from hunting Merry down and doing something drastic that certainly was not called for from a gentleman like himself.

“What,” he cleared his throat, “What caused this?”

“Please Lucien, it was not the fault of the maid. I beg you don’t punish her. It was only me; she did not even want to say what had happened. I made her tell me. I would not cease begging until she did so.”

“And how did you come to realize there was even a story to tell at all?” still he averted his gaze from her, using all his willpower to keep his now deep breathing steady.

She found herself suddenly in a need and absence of courage all at once. The answer to this question was surprisingly hard to recall to him. Devay was sure he would be hurt if not put out with her by her not having gone to him first. By her blatant disrepute after all he had done for her. He was one of her dearest friends, her godfather.

“Devay?” he wanted an answer.

“Things have come to my attention, things I could no longer ignore. Your age for example. Your youth stays with you and yet time has worked its effects on everyone else at the manor, even Merry and I. I researched it for a while but my search turned up very little. I had my theories however, and of course immortality was in there. But never had I even imagined…or even heard of…”

“Fae revenge doesn’t seem very plausible to a sane mind trying to find an answer in scientific manner. I understand completely Devay; I just wish you would have come to me initially.”

More shame.

“I know. I apologize.”

“Don’t, you came nevertheless, which is all I can ask. But for what reason you still have not said.” he reminded her.

“I could not find sleep…after all Merry told me.”

“Do you wish me to play my violin for you?”

Her lips were docile for a moment. Her body wanted him to play for it needed sleep. But her mind would not rest until she unwound the confusion that had balled up inside her thoughts.

“Lucien, I want answers. Why did no one tell me before now? Why is it kept so secret?”

“Devay, this may look a blessing but it is a curse. One which I wish to forget. I could hardly recall the tale with a laugh over tea.”

“But still…you could have told me when I first came here.”

“And give up the chance to start new, for someone to know me as a human.”

“It was but a curse, you are still human! If you are not then I am truly being deceived.” A scowl set across her face as if this were already the truth.

“That is not what I meant by my words, only”-

“Be careful what you say, either tell me the truth or else send me back to my chambers.”

“No, I wish you to stay. You need to understand that this is hard for me.”

“I do.”

“You do not. Devay I love you, you know this. But you cannot imagine what sort of life I have been strained to lead.”

“How is it even possible that you don’t grow? That every year that passes by does not change you?”

“My body does not recognize time. It has been forced to ignore it for centuries.”’

“How can such a thing be a curse? You will never die. You need not fear…disease, injury, enemies, pain, death, anything.”

“Exactly, I need not fear physical harm. But what about my mental state?”

“What about it? You are perfectly sane, how could you not be?”

“I have outlived everyone I have ever loved. I watched my father, my brothers and sisters, my mother, my friends, my cousins, everyone. They died and I buried every last one of them.”

“So many funerals, so long a life…and still your wealth stays as ample as your body?”

“Ah, I am impressed. That is a very good question.”

“All I ask is for a very good answer.”

“Of course. I like to think I’ve made good use of the time given to me. I keep my ships running, my sheep sheered, and my lands tilled. The name DeCarr has its name in three of the largest industries known to man. How could I not keep my pockets lined?”

Her nod was slow and understanding.

“Alright. I can believe that. Have you never had children?”

“I can’t.” the distrustful look he caught across her features made him realize that further explanation was in order. “There are two reasons. The first being it is physically impossible. The child would inherit the immortal gene and how could it grow, even in the womb, when its embryo was being forced to ignore all time constraints. The second being I have yet to find a lady with which I wish to have children.”

“Or rather, one that will have them with you.”

“Yes, that is an issue as well.”

“All these years and you have found no one?”

“I do not go looking.”

“Why ever would you not?” Devay was appalled. “With so much time you must use it to make yourself as happy as possible. If it is true you have suffered so much pain, it must also be true that you desire another to help you ease it.”

“I do. And within sixty years, what will happen? She will grow old, I will stay young. She will die, I will survive. I refuse to bury another loved one, not if it can be helped.”

“So you’ll choose pain over what you want?”

“Over all it is for the best, do you not see? I would only hurt her and myself. It would kill me to loose some one so dear. I see my reality, I accept it. Why can’t you?”

“It wouldn’t kill you.” Her breathy words were a growl. Why was he being so righteous? Piety was for the church, not the man she had come to idolize.

“Thank you for pointing that out once more.” He was genuinely hurt now, “How very right you are. It wouldn’t kill me. Only torture me day in and day out for the rest of eternity. What am I so worried about?”

Devay stayed silent for a few seconds, brooding.

“And what about me? Will I not die either?”

“Of course you will?”

“And what shall you do when the time comes to bury me?”

“You will not be with me when that time comes. Or anywhere near DeCarr Manor for that matter.”

“What are you…what?” For the second time that night the axis her world spun upon seemed suddenly thrown off and her mind was lost as to what he was saying to her.

“There is…” he rubbed his hands over his tired face, “A prophecy. It is your prophecy. It is why you are here and it is why you will soon leave.”

No words would come. It was too much for English or any other language.

“There are still active Faes in our world. And there are active rallies against them Augustine’s league is the greatest of those and that is who you are to overcome. What you must understand first is that Augustine’s League values human blood. They have been taught by the society in which they grew up that the only safe blood, the only trustworthy blood is that of a human. Pure and normal. They despise diviners, Faes, magic, gods, demons, and anything else that could possibly be different and therefore possibly pose a threat.

“This is normal. It is human nature to condemn what you do not understand and it runs in the balance of the universe in which we live. Our hostility makes up for their compassion. The magic folk of this world are paying for allowing us to survive. For showing us mercy in a war we waged against them decades ago called The Blood Wars.

“The problem comes then when humans, like those in The League, begin to feel hatred for other humans such as myself. There is no magic in me; I was cast immortal by a Fae. My blood is 100 pure and yet still they remain threatened. As if I might turn against them for the sake of my own greed.

“Again, this is logical, if not manic. Only it is not in the balance. That is where your prophecy picks up. The prophecy says that you will restore this balance by defeating Augustine and the League.”