Scarlet in the Snow (31 page)

I bent down to him and kissed his cold forehead. I kissed his closed eyelids. I kissed his motionless lips. And each time the touch of him on my own lips was like the burning of ice, but I did not flinch. Then, holding his hand, I put my mouth close to his ear and whispered, ‘Wake up, my love, wake up. I’ve come for you. I love you, please wake up.’

The simple words came hard. They hurt, for I was struggling against a cold so deep the breath was freezing
as it left my lips and the words shattered like ice in my throat. But I forced them through, repeating them again and again, as if they were a magic formula, a talisman against the fear that was invading me with every moment that passed.

Then I felt my breath getting warmer, warming not only my words but the space around his ear. Then, to my incredulous delight, a faint blush of colour began to appear in the lobe of his ear, then the top, then the skin near it. All at once, so close to him, my lips brushing his ear, I caught a very faint scent, so faint I thought I was imagining it. It was a scent that brought tears to my eyes and made my heart pound, for it was the shadow of a sweetness I knew with a thrilling tingle of the blood.

Then his eyes opened – those beautiful, limpid grey-green eyes. Clasping his hand, I cried joyously, ‘Oh, you’ve come back, you’ve come back . . .’

But the words died on my lips as I saw the bewildered expression in his eyes as he looked at me, without a hint of recognition. Pulling his hand away from mine, he whispered weakly, ‘Who are you?’

His words stabbed me to the heart, and this time I did flinch. But I should have expected it. I should have known that the sorcerer’s poison would have already worked its way into Gabriel’s mind, through that abominable silver cap. Fighting back a grief-stricken panic, I said very quietly and gently in Ruvenyan, ‘It’s me. It’s Natasha.’

Something flickered in his eyes, as if a memory was trying to struggle up through layers of forgetting. But then it was gone. He looked up at me, bewilderment giving way to anxiety. ‘I’m sorry. I don’t understand what you said.’ He spoke in his own language, Champainian, his voice still a little weak but soft and musical. ‘Yet somehow I feel as though I ought to know you,’ he went on. ‘Am I in a dream? A nightmare? Please, tell me.’

I was trembling all over. I longed to hold him, to kiss him and never let go, the longing so strong it ached like a
sharp physical pain. But I knew that if I tried to touch him too soon I would only frighten him.

I said heavily, and in my accented Champainian said, ‘No, this is no dream, Gabriel.’

‘Then where am I?’ he faltered, his gaze flickering around the room, and once again there was no hint of recognition in his expression.

‘In the light-room of your godfather’s house in Palume, on Dr Golpech’s orders.’

I heard a slight sound behind me and, looking over my shoulder, saw that Celeste Durant had turned around and was staring at us. Gabriel saw her too. Shock flared in his eyes as he tried to sit up. I instinctively put an arm around his shoulders to help him, and the silver cap pulsed once, brightly. I was jolted back, as though from an electric shock. Gabriel fell back on the pillows, all expression leaving his eyes as he slipped almost instantly back into that deathly sleep.

‘He knew me.’ Celeste’s voice came to me as though from a long distance. ‘He knew me. You saw that, didn’t you?’

Oh, yes. I had felt the sharp pain of that realisation. He had recognised her at once, not me. But I wasn’t going to let the knowledge overwhelm me. ‘I did. And if you want that to happen again, you must tell your father the silver cap must come off and your house must be barred to the doctor from this moment on.’

‘Are you mad?’ she cried. ‘Why would we want to do that?’

‘Don’t you understand? The so-called miracle cure is all about keeping him in that half-state. The
antirentum
is wiping his memories, gradually and ruthlessly. It is starting with the most recent, and if it keeps going, soon he will not know you either; he’ll know nothing at all, he’ll cease existing in every way that matters. He will be a hollow shell.’ My eyes filled with tears as I looked at him.
Death would be too easy
, Felix had said.

‘You
are
mad,’ Celeste said blankly. ‘Quite mad. To speak about Dr Golpech’s treatment like that when it’s the only thing that will help Gabriel to –’

‘Think of Felix,’ I interrupted. ‘Think of what happened to him.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘That was Dr Golpech’s work, too.’

‘What was?’ Celeste said faintly, and I saw the foolish girl had no idea what I was talking about.

‘Surely you have noticed he’s not like he used to be?’

‘Who? The doctor?’

Could anyone really be so dense? ‘No, Felix Vivian.’

‘So? That was quite different. Felix wasn’t kidnapped – he just went crazy,’ she said, with a chilling carelessness. ‘Anyway, I’ve kept my side of the bargain. You must keep yours.’

‘Only on one condition,’ I said. ‘I must stay here.’

Celeste stared at me in disbelief. ‘Are you –’

‘Mad? Yes, very probably,’ I rejoined harshly. ‘But that’s what I want. And if you want what was promised, you have to agree.’

‘If the doctor finds you here –’

‘I don’t care about that.’ And I didn’t.

‘If I tell Papa –’

‘But you won’t,’ I hissed, ‘because if you do, you’ll lose all those gifts I gave you, everything will vanish in a puff of smoke. If you say nothing, think of all the pretty things you can conjure up for yourself!’

I watched as the covetous gleam returned to her eyes. ‘They’re bound to find you in the morning,’ Celeste retorted.

‘Let me worry about that,’ I said. ‘Just remember this: say nothing, and it will all be yours, always. Tell anyone – anyone at all – and everything will vanish at once.’ I was talking nonsense, making it up as I went along, for in truth I had no idea how long the magic might last. But it didn’t matter. Celeste didn’t know of my ignorance. All I needed was to buy a little more time, to try again on my own. Tomorrow morning, if I failed, they’d find me. But it didn’t matter. Whatever happened, I’d be here with him, beside him.

Celeste shrugged. ‘Very well. If you want to be so stupid as to spend the night here, that’s your lookout. Now give me the comb.’

‘I’ll throw it out to you as soon as you open the door and leave,’ I said. ‘Not before.’

Celeste glared at me. ‘How do I know you’ll do as you say?’

‘You don’t. You’ll just have to hope I do.’

‘You’re a real hard-hearted shrew, you know that?’ she exclaimed. But one look at my face told her I wasn’t going to respond. With a theatrical shrug, she went over to the wall and put her thumb to the knot of glass. The panel slid open, and she stepped out. Just before the panel closed
again, I threw the comb through the opening, straight at her. She caught it, and the last glimpse I had of her before the door sealed shut was the look of triumph on her face. In the next instant I knew why – the light abruptly went out and I was left in total darkness.

No, not quite total darkness, for a faint silvery glow still gleamed in the blackness of the room. It was the mesh cap. On my hands and knees, I groped my way towards the bed. Once I reached the end of the bed, I slowly rose from my hands and knees. I felt along the bed till I reached the other end. The silver glow of the cap was illumined Gabriel’s face in a strange, ghostly light. I touched him, very lightly, careful not to touch the cap. His skin, I noticed, was getting chillier but not all the warmth had left it yet. Squatting on my haunches, I whispered, ‘I’m here, I’m still here, I’ll never go away . . .’

Gabriel shifted a little then, and I had to draw back in case I inadvertently touched that evil cap. But I was happy, for the fact he had moved at all showed that the power of the
antirentum
potion had not yet sunk its tentacles deep into his brain.

I crept closer and began to speak again. I spoke of the time I had first stumbled out of the blizzard and into his life. I spoke of my feelings when I first entered the mansion, and the fear of that first encounter with him as an
abartyen
, the conversations with Luel, the dreams, the way I had begun to understand that he wasn’t the monster he seemed to be. And as I went on, gradually, without even noticing, I slipped out of Champainian and into the language of my heart, my own mother tongue. As the words flowed from me, I could see colour beginning to return to his skin once more, and though his eyes stayed closed, he shifted restlessly and gave a long sigh.

‘That story I told you – the story I wrote – of Rosette and Robert and the white rose?’ I said softly. ‘You told me an editor would say it wasn’t quite finished. Well, I’ve thought of how it must end. Shall I tell you?’ I continued. ‘Robert smelled the white rose, and its scent brought Rosette back to him. It brought hope back to his frozen, broken heart. And when he opened his eyes, oh when he opened his eyes, it was Rosette he saw before him, not her ghost, not her shadow, but the living girl, warm and loving. She opened her arms to him and he went into them, and then, hand in hand, they walked away, into a land where all dreams come true and happiness is for ever.’

I came to a shuddering stop. Gabriel had opened his eyes and was looking at me. I could see memory stirring deep in his eyes. I knew what I had to do now, though it would hurt me unbearably. ‘I dreamed your dream in the mansion,’ I said in Champainian. ‘I saw Celeste – I saw the girl you loved, the girl you recognised as soon as you
woke. I saw the painting Felix had done of her. It’s come back, you know, that painting. It’s come back and it’s hanging in Lilac Gardens and . . . Oh!’

His hand had suddenly shot up, and he seized my wrist. ‘No,’ he said, ‘don’t.’ His eyes were wild. ‘Speak to me like you were before. I don’t understand the words, but they fell like gentle rain. Not like this. Please, speak to me like you were before.’ Trembling, he dropped my wrist now, and though I did not understand why my words had so troubled him, I understood that I must do as he asked.

I switched back to Ruvenyan. But I was only just a little way into telling him how we had parted at the mansion when Gabriel stopped me suddenly. ‘I should know these things. I should understand these words. I did once, didn’t I?’

I looked at him. His eyes were shadowed by fear, his Adam’s apple bobbing convulsively in his throat. I said gently, in his own language, ‘Yes. You did.’

‘I wish I knew again,’ he cried. ‘Oh, if only I could remember.’ There was helpless pain in his voice, and it cut me to the quick. Then something struck me – a wild, almost mad hope. Language and memory go together. We had known each other in Ruvenyan. What if . . .

Feverishly, I pulled out Luel’s box from my pocket. I took out the tin of sweets, praying desperately that amongst the language lozenges would be one I’d overlooked – the one I needed. I fumbled the tin open and stared.

For when I had last looked in, there had been several sweets. Now there was only one. It was white, embossed with a letter in red.
R.

My skin prickled with a thrill of awe. I took out the sweet and, holding it between thumb and forefinger, said quietly, ‘This is Luel’s doing.’

‘Luel?’ Gabriel repeated, sounding a little puzzled. ‘I think I know the name. ‘Wait. Yes. I do. She’s gone. Where has she gone?’

‘I don’t know,’ I said. ‘Not yet. But she always watched over you, she always tried to keep you safe. Will you – will you trust me?’ I held out the sweet to him.

He looked at me. ‘Yes,’ he said. ‘I will . . . I do.’ He opened his mouth, and very gently, I placed the sweet on his tongue. I saw it fizz as soon as it touched his flesh, and then it vanished.

An extraordinary expression came over his face. ‘I can see more clearly,’ he said wonderingly. ‘Is that what . . .’ Then he stopped, his eyes wide.

‘You spoke in Ruvenyan,’ I said happily.

‘Then tell me again,’ he said, ‘tell me what you told me before, when I could not understand. Please . . .’

I felt almost hollow with disappointment. I had so hoped that as soon as he knew my language again he would know me. I started again from the beginning, and as I spoke this time I could see a change coming over his face. His features hardened, his lips tightened and his nostrils flared. To my horror I saw a fierce amber gleam light up deep in his eyes and I knew that my imprudence had done something terrible – that the memories of his life as an
abartyen
were stirring inside him once again and thrusting him back into that darkness.