Tobias, kind and gentle as always, coaxed me out of the reclusive shell I had crawled into, and one afternoon he convinced me to share a meal with a few of the other students in the various departments. A whole group of us left the campus together, chattering and carrying on like vagabonds, and went into the city.

It was like stepping out of a carefully constructed, slightly imperfect Utopia and back into the hustle and bustle and stink of every day life. Kalaven City was still alive and loud and filled with children rushing to and fro underfoot, threatening with each step to get themselves mowed over by a runaway carriage. Prostitutes still wandered the Trinity Quarter like gilded dirt, beckoning any who passed by with coquettish smiles and suggestive gestures. The Twilight Quarter still ignited envy and dislike in me, even though the threads that garbed my body were probably worth just as much as the bricks that made up the nobility’s mansions. I was envious simply because I had always been envious, when really there was nothing for me to envy. Quaint, isn’t it?

But the ringleader of our group, a fiery young woman who responded only to Claire (though her rightful name was otherwise), had other plans for the tagalongs that she had at her command that afternoon. She was small, petite, but strong enough to defend herself from any who might assault her.

Tobias was enamored of her, this I discovered right away. He followed her movements with his eyes attentively, and had she decided to walk off of a cliff simply because it suited her impulsive fancy, I have no doubt in my mind that my smitten friend would have followed her right off of the ledge. Claire seemed fond of Tobias as well and smiled at him and let him hold her arm, but she did not seem to grasp the scope of his affection for her. It broke my heart, but I smiled. Tobias in love. Such a thing hadn’t really seemed possible in my eyes. Tobias was, to me, the ageless mentor of my new home, sagaciously advising me when my temper got the better of me and when rationality was a farfetched dream. Tobias, my articulate, well read, upperclassmen friend… stammering when a pretty girl smiled at him.

Claire led us through the Twilight Quarter as if she had memorized its layout ages ago. I watched her in curiosity. She knew the back streets by heart, and also seemed to be friends with just the right people. Before long, the whole group of us had been sneaked into one of the taverns in the Twilight Quarter that was concealed from the rest of the city’s glamorous surface, smothered in a den of heady, fragrant smoke and enjoying the taste of rich berry wine on our tongues.

Tobias seemed distinctly uncomfortable in the presence of the smoke and the alcohol and the close quarters, and he took a seat beside me in the back of the tavern. I was already beginning to feel the delicate effects of the liquor in my system, but my tolerance for alcohol had always been very high. I smiled at him, albeit a little dazed, and said, "Thank you for inviting me out with you and your friends, Tobias. It was very kind of you."

"Would that I could I would have stayed home," he answered dully and stared into the glass of… something… that he had bought. His eyes were downcast, his expression melancholy. "There is little for me to do here but listen to them—" He gestured widely to the group of students milling about the tavern, "—talk about their sexual encounters over the course of their very few years. Any hope I had of finding intelligent conversation went out the window the moment I realized where Claire was taking us." He sighed sadly. "Her spontaneity can become wearisome."

"You’re not fooling anyone, Toby," I chided him with a wry smile. He glared at me as I used the nickname he so loathed. "I saw the way you were looking at her. To you, she is anything but wearisome."

He blushed; I didn’t have to see it to know it. Tobias was more expressive than he was aware, and when he did not join me in the Astrology Attic, Irwin and I often discussed it. I found it endearing while Irwin feared his expressive demeanor would render him defenseless against those who would treat him unfairly.

"I… suppose you’re right," he said with a nervous little laugh. Then his countenance grew somber again. "But she’s anything but interested in me, my friend. She hardly takes any notice of me, save to tell me that I ought to be paying more attention in Alchemy." He sighed again out of frustration. "If only I had my father’s suave way with words. Perhaps then I might be able to gain at least a little attention from her."

"Why not be forward?" I suggested, and at his shocked stare, I went on, "What? It couldn’t hurt, could it? At the rate you’re going, you might be lucky to gain, perhaps, a coy smile from her by the time you are Dr. Faushe’s age! There is a lot to be said for being straight forward with your feelings."

"Did it work for you?" he asked timidly; he knew that he was treading on eggshells where my relationship with Ulrich was concerned… but I had grown gradually accustomed to discussing Ulrich with him.

I shrugged. "Ulrich was a straight-forward sort of person. He didn’t leave me any room to beat around the bush, so to speak." I laughed a little. "He was blunt, most definitely… Especially when it came to expressing his opinion about the relationship his elder sister Elsa had with Roderick Polaris. I remember one occasion quite distinctly. We were around the dinner table getting to know Mr. Polaris, and he was discussing his opinions on the situation with Cavenwry. You know, whether or not Kalaweinvyrismere should make it an official Kalawein territory. And Ulrich just dropped his silverware onto his plate and said, ‘Well I think that’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard.’ Everyone died laughing. Everyone, that is, except for Elsa and Roderick."

Tobias and I laughed comfortably, and the ache in my soul eased some.

Let me paint a picture of Claire briefly. She was very small, perhaps not even five feet tall, with trimmed brown hair and an eccentric air in her mannerisms that both fascinated and irritated me. She was very kind and sweet-natured, but sometimes it was just that about her that drove me to madness. Her large, soulful brown eyes begged to be told the truth about any situation, her words so gentle and cajoling that one almost wanted to spill their heart out for her. She was very much like Loran in that respect, except that my sister was much more bashful than Claire.

If anything, Claire was the exact polar opposite of shy.

After we spent more time than I would have liked in the tavern, Claire and her gaggle swept out into the streets like a tornado, her aura overpowering and her voice resonating in the narrow streets like clap after clap of thunder. It almost pained me to be near the sound of her voice it was so overwhelming, but if I lingered too far behind, I was sure to hear:

"Rocielle? What’s taking you so long, guy? Hurry up, the gondola will leave without you otherwise!"

‘Gondola?’ Dread filled me.

There was one canal running throughout Kalaven City that led right into the Kelp Sea at the harbor, and boatmen made a regular fortune taxiing tourists around the city. I was no tourist, and I’d seen all I’d ever wanted to see of Kalaven City during my life in the slums, but I loyally clamored into one of the shaky boats after Tobias and a few of his other friends, gripping the sides for dear life while praying to Stell above that it might all be over soon. Tobias looked at me strangely.

"Rocielle?" he asked, followed by a startled laugh as the boat lurched forward, the boatmen breaking into some foreign and soulful song. "Don’t tell me you’re afraid of the water!"

"I’m not afraid!" I answered too quickly and clenched my eyes shut. Water. Water everywhere, dark and murky and reeking of dead fish bits and other sludge. I didn’t know what it was that caused the water to look the unhealthy shade of brown it did in this section of the city, but I knew that whatever it was could not be conducive to a long and prosperous life. The fetid liquid was a breeding ground for germs and bacteria, perhaps incubating yet another gruesome plague like the one that had swept the country decades before.

"Of course," Tobias conceded with a knowing smile. He turned to look over his shoulder at the first of the three boats. Claire sat, appropriately, at the bow, chatting idly with another of her classmates.

And while Tobias was preoccupied with Claire, I found myself unmistakably drawn to the image of Artemis Jezera, an image that had floated so lackadaisically in the back of my mind until I was given the opportunity to dwell upon it. I smiled a little dazedly; he possessed a beauty that was in total contrast with Ulrich’s sheer vibrancy. His was an aesthetic beauty, picturesque of the seraphs that followed Stell and his brood so faithfully in the Early Years.

At that moment I toyed with the idea of possibly letting myself be caught up in the emotions that the very concept of Artemis stirred inside of me. Perhaps it would be for the best, a way for me to, if not forget, at least recover from the passionate love that I still bore for Ulrich Stein.

The boat ride was a catastrophe, but one that had everyone involved in stitches of laughter afterwards.

The boatman steering the first of the three gondolas had had a bit too much brandy to drink before taking up the stick again. Upon guiding the others through the last neck of the canal, a supposed vision from Stell caused him to take us on a wild and dangerous journey straight into the harbor, which was notoriously known as the nursery for the sea serpents.

Of course, three little gondolas floating precariously through the harbor stirred a little bit of interest in the tourists gathering at the harbor to try and entice the sea serpents out of hiding. There was a sign posted at the entrance to the canal strictly prohibiting the use of gondolas in the harbor waters, but Claire’s boatman would not be persuaded to drive us elsewhere. The other two boatmen seemed to find his rebelliousness amusing, and followed him if only to see what would happen afterwards. (Never mind that their jobs were on the line.)

As I stated before, the first boatman was in a state of complete inebriation by the time all three gondolas were, quite ostensibly, in the harbor. And he carried on like a fool, singing his heart out until I was sure his lungs would burst, swaying back and forth in the boat like the drunk he was. And then, the tourists got what they wanted.

The first sea serpent nudged the second boat and thrashed shallowly in its wake before disappearing beneath the surf. I heard the shrill shrieks of terror from the students in front of me, and I found myself gripping the sides of the boat even tighter than I had before. ‘Don’t panic,’ I began chanting in my head, and it was a mantra that I could not stop repeating after first uttering it. Another sea serpent squirmed past our gondola, large lazy eyes rolling as it eyed each of us up and down. Tobias was a frightening shade of pale.

The constable for the Harbor Quarter was called immediately, and an entire task forced was dispatched to round up the mad boatmen and rescue the poor, petrified students that they had kidnapped. We could hear shouts of despair from the landing, and a few of the students looked as if they were seriously considering diving overboard to try and swim to shore. But as the boatman’s spirited singing only grew in volume, the rocking of the boats attracted more attention. Soon, the water was swarming with hungry sea serpents nosing the sides of our boats, snapping their vicious jaws at us and hissing, an ungodly sort of hissing I never hoped to hear again.

A West Myrisvermian merchant managed to get his ship turned around in the harbor so that a ladder could be thrown over the side from the bulwarks, and after subduing the deranged boatmen, we managed to paddle the flimsy gondolas over to the ship. One by one, we climbed out of the little boats and onto the large trading vessel, until none remained below but the guilty boatmen.

Returning to Kalaven College, our little brush with death was soon the topic of conversation wherever you turned your head. Tobias and I laughed nervously when we were asked if we were scared. "Of course not," I lied bravely. "I was a little nervous, yes, but scared? No, not particularly."

Walking away from them, Tobias hissed in my ear, "Lying bastard," and the two of us snickered secretively.

We parted ways outside the Astrology tower, promising to meet shortly for dinner, and I headed up the various flights of stairs to the Astrology Attic, where I hoped to converse with Irwin about my little misadventure. He would frown disapprovingly, I knew, but he would eventually see the same humor in it that I did. ‘Just make sure it doesn’t happen again, all right?’ I could hear him admonishing me already.

I pushed open the trapdoor into the musty attic and hoisted myself up, only to hear a tea cup crash against the ground. I was so startled that I nearly fell out of the door again, but I caught myself at the last instant.

"Stell above, Irwin, what’s gotten into you—" My words died abruptly.

Irwin was not in his attic. The figure I saw pressed up against the far wall, topaz eyes wide and terrified, was Artemis Jezera.

We were both still as stone, watching each other and waiting, waiting for the other to make the first move. Thousands of actions came to mind, but I cast them all aside. Anything remotely aggressive might chase him away from me, and wasn’t this what I had hoped for all along? The opportunity to speak with him without the fear of being interrupted?

But Irwin had told me that Artemis would seek me out when he was ready… if he was ready… This was forceful. I didn’t want to encounter him like this.

"I’ll… excuse myself then," I whispered anxiously and fumbled with the trapdoor, trying to hoist it open again. My fingers trembled and were moist from sweat. ‘Stupid idea, Rocielle,’ I chided myself. ‘Stupid of you to assume that you had the right to just walk in here like it was your own room—‘

"No. I mean, wait."

Stell above, it made my heart melt and my eyes flutter just listening to it. I obeyed wordlessly and stared at my hand, the digits curled tightly around the trapdoor handle. I wondered if I could open it fast enough to escape without Artemis protesting too much…

He crossed the room slowly, his feet covered only by a pair of soft-soled slippers. He looked as if he was preparing to settle down for the night, which seemed bizarre since it was only the early evening and most people on the campus hadn’t even had dinner yet. His hair was not tied back from his face, but flowed free in curling black ringlets, a few flyaway strands clinging to his carefully perked feline ears. He looked almost childlike in his curiosity, large eyes inquisitive and intense. When our gazes locked, I was unable to look away.

His eyes narrowed only slightly, and his head gave a slight, almost indiscernible tilt to the left. "Rocielle," he whispered, as if trying to place my name in his mind. "Rocielle du Monte… I know you." He came closer, hesitated, then closer still, and knelt delicately beside me. How amazingly iridescent were his eyes, catching every single ray of dim light in that attic and reflecting it ten fold. I felt as if I was staring into two gleaming topaz mirrors, his soul reflecting into my eyes.

I couldn’t help myself. I lifted one tremulous hand from where it gripped the fabric of my bottle green tunic and touched the pallid flesh of his unscathed cheek. He startled abruptly, and for one horrible moment I thought he was going to move away from me. But he stilled himself, fighting against his instincts, it seemed.

"Do you… know me?" he asked nervously, hopefully. There was something he was searching for; I could see it in his eyes.

I didn’t know how to answer. My experience had taught me that fabricating a pretty lie sometimes worked better than stating the bland truth, but in this case I decided that doing so would only result in his viewing me with distrust. I closed my eyes and replied softly, "No… but I’ve wanted to for a long time. I talked to Irwin—"

"I know." A smile that was almost guilty caused the corners of his thin lips to curve upwards. "I was in the room. I heard everything."

"You—?" I was dumfounded, stunned, and overly hurt that Irwin had deceived me. How many other confidential conversations had Artemis heard discussed between my professor and me?

"None," he said, as if he could read my thoughts. At my inquisitive stare, he merely smiled again. "My telepathic abilities are more honed than Dr. Faushe’s. I try to keep them in check, but it is very difficult for me to deny my nature. That is why I spend as little time with others as I do… I don’t want to know more than I have to."

"How much do you know about me?" I asked quietly. I traced my fingers down his cheeks slowly, fascinated by the texture of his skin.

"I know enough," was his whispered reply. Those large, luminous topaz eyes stared into mine, feline and intelligent. He reached out and grasped me by my shoulders, pulling me so close to him that our noses brushed. I was shocked by his sudden intimacy, but it flooded me with a euphoria that made me lightheaded and giddy. Artemis closed his eyes, those brilliant, vivid mirrors disappearing from my view momentarily. "I know enough," he whispered again.

"I don’t know anything about you," I said wistfully, almost mournfully.

"You will," he said cryptically, and before he leaned back, he pressed a warm and kind kiss against my lips. "Had you waited another day, I would have come to you anyway." At my embarrassed blush, he smiled almost diffidently again.

I heard the distant ringing of the campus bells; time for dinner. Artemis glanced over his shoulder at Irwin’s clock, then turned back to look at me. "You’d better go," he said reluctantly. "I suspect that your friend is looking for you."

"Who—oh. Toby." I’d forgotten about my promise to meet him for dinner, and I felt sullenly bitter towards him quite suddenly. Artemis frowned at me.

"You shouldn’t be frustrated with him," he said disapprovingly. Then he smiled. "Come by here tomorrow after your classes and have tea with Dr. Faushe and me."

"Are you sure?"

"Kakarah are a strange breed, Rocielle," he said with a small smirk. "We, unlike humans, tend not to lie and say things we don’t mean."

I left the Astrology Attic musing on the last statement he had given me, but also giddy at the gentle kiss we had shared. It seemed so strange to me, how the strange events of the day had simply followed one another in such swift succession, shocking me and yet amusing me. I smiled almost coyly as I met Tobias outside the tower, who was waiting on his horse.

He looked at me suspiciously. "Should I even ask?"

"If you like," I answered lightly, and accepted his hand as he hefted me up onto the horse behind him. "I’ve simply has the best evening of my life since I arrived at the college."

"Well, that’s good," he said, somewhat puzzled. "I’m happy for you."

We bypassed the large, crowded dining hall and headed towards one of the gardens that we had designated as our own. I glimpsed Claire’s head among her horde of friends near the Fountain of Victoria.

We couldn’t ride the horse into the garden, and so gave the reins over to a servant waiting diligently for us outside the gates. Tobias carried a little basket of food on one arm.

"Bessera was quite amused by our little adventure," he told me with a wry grin. "I paid her a visit after we parted. Apparently the story has reached her as well; she was petrified. Gave me this long lecture on how dangerous sea serpents are and how they’re nothing like dragons and how we all ought to be ashamed of ourselves—"

"She sounds like Miss Katherine," I mumbled sourly.

He laughed. "I thought you would say something like that. But yes, Bessera seemed very distressed by what happened. That and something else seemed to be bothering her."

"Oh?" I said, though I was not really interested. I was watching Claire try to disentangle herself from the mass of beings crowding around her, and I smiled as she strode towards us. Her blue-gray Chemistry robes flowed elegantly around her figure.

"…I’m afraid I may have insulted her… Rocielle, are you listening to me?" Tobias demanded, irritated.

"We’ve a guest, Toby," I said richly and took a seat under one of the dogwood trees in the garden.

Tobias gaped at Claire for a full two seconds before he gathered his wits enough to appear distracted. He sat down beside me and began to dig furiously through his satchel of school books, a heated blush coloring his cheeks. "Why didn’t you tell me!" he hissed in an accusatory tone.

"I did," I grinned, but I couldn’t say anything more. Claire sat down in front of us, fiery and quick of wit as always.

"Hello, Rocielle," she said spiritedly and grinned widely. "Did you have fun this afternoon?"

"Oh yes," I lied. "It was quite enthralling. Shall we do it again tomorrow?"

"I can hear that sarcasm!" she said with a disapproving frown, then smiled and looked at Tobias. "What about you, Toby? Did you have fun?"

"No—I mean, yes! Yes, I had a wonderful time." He smiled back dazedly, and the blush on his face grew all the redder.

"Great!" she said happily. She leaned over and plucked an apple out of the open basket on the floor. "Maybe we could go to the theater later this week?" she suggested.

The theater. That sounded like a trip more worthy of me. I was not in favor of these childish, adolescent games that Claire seemed so fond of playing with her litter of playmates. I was surprised that Tobias was drawn to such an immature woman. She didn’t look any older than Yvonne or Yvette, Ulrich’s sisters.

"The theater sounds pleasing," Tobias commented thoughtfully. "What shows are playing this week?"

"Oh, all sorts!" Claire answered, eyes glistening as if she lived for this sort of thing. "There’s a classic playing this week, The Trieschean Balm, and a contemporary piece called Vampire’s Kiss. I, personally, would like to see the latter. I’ve practically memorized the lines of Reylana from The Trieschean Balm anyway."

"I’ve seen that one as well," Tobias agreed, then to my surprise, he looked to me and raised his eyebrows. "What do you think, Rocielle? Would you like to join us at the theater?"

I don’t know what compelled me to answer "yes" to their question. Perhaps some part of me knew that a pivotal decision this really was. Perhaps not—perhaps I was still blissfully ignorant of the eyes that were always fixated on me, perhaps since my early childhood. There was a time when, when I dwelt in Crystal City, I did not feel the piercing eyes on the back of my neck. But stepping back into Kalaven City seemed like an invitation of sorts, and I felt again as if I were being followed… by whom, I couldn’t guess.

I dismissed the suspicion as my imagination.

What a grave mistake that turned out to be.

It was during the play Vampire’s Kiss that I first became, if informally, introduced to the legendary actor of the midnight stage, Alecielle de Lemiux.

He was a foreigner, they said, a man originally from Kalaweinvyrismere whom had been raised in the far south, past the Torakibian barbarians in a land perhaps even more sophisticated and elegant than our own. His speech was cultured and divine, his movements languid and inviting, and he was never without a charming young lady on his arm. Those who formed an immediate radius around him required several things to be tolerated by him: they must be incredibly beautiful, either of body or of mind. They must be interesting. And they must never remain in his company for longer than a week or so.

Upon seeing him on the stage for the first time, I was unaware that he would later play such a crucial and important role in my life. All I saw was a magnificent, beautiful man playing the part of a slighted lover, taken over to the dark side of existence by the woman who supposedly loved him.

That in itself is an irony, but why will be explained quite clearly later in the text.

It took much coaxing on my part, but I managed to convince both Dr. Irwin Faushe and the reclusive Artemis Jezera to join me to the theater. Claire was only too happy to have them along, as it gave her the perfect opportunity to learn more about a race that specifically interested her.

The carriage ride to the theater was fraught with unrelenting questions from Claire. Artemis and I sat side by side in rigid silence, eyes closed tightly, praying that the ride would be over soon. Irwin managed to appear attentive and pleasant, answering her questions as well as he knew how, always managing to sound polite even when he did not have answers. Tobias simply watched Claire, a pleased smile on his kind face.

I felt immensely guilty for dragging Artemis into this so quickly. We had not been given a moment to ourselves to discuss the odd nature of our relationship since that one occasion in the Astrology Attic, and all the other times we had met (all three of them) Irwin had been present. And though I viewed Irwin as a second father figure, there were some things that I simply wasn’t comfortable discussing in his presence. One of these things was my deeply developing affection for Artemis, which now stretched past curiosity and infatuation and sheer awe of his beauty. I found him a truly inspirational and loving person to be around. He reminded me, at times, of Ulrich in his firm conviction in his beliefs. I admired him greatly.

That was not to say that my love and affection for Ulrich had lessened any, because it had, of course, not. Ulrich and I wrote to each other via August in Haven, which delayed the letters for days at time. Ulrich’s life was slowly spiraling out of his control. His father had suffered an anonymous malady after dinner one evening and had been in his sick bed ever since. Ulrich and his sisters feared the worst, and Helena was inconsolable. "I wonder if perhaps my damned fate is poised to leap upon me," he wrote dismally. "I fear that I am ill-prepared, as is my young wife. Oh, she is a comfort to me when I am sad and when I miss you, but her beauty is nothing when placed beside yours. My love for you is driving me to the point of self-destruction."

I tried not to think of the letter. I tried instead to think of the magnificent play I would soon be seeing with Artemis, the man who was slowly replacing the bleeding hole in my heart where Ulrich used to be.

At last, the carriage came to a stop, and the five of us filed out onto the sidewalk, waiting in the mild evening air for the doors to be opened allowing us into the theater. Irwin and Artemis drew away from the amassing crowd and lingered against the mouth of an alleyway. The noise and the hubbub of activity swelling around them was overpowering, I could see it in Artemis’ eyes.

Tobias touched my shoulder with one hand. "Rocielle, let them be for a time," he suggested. "Come, speak to Claire and me about your research. Is it coming along well?"

I didn’t want to join them. I wanted to stay with Artemis, and if Artemis chose to, then I wanted to stay with Irwin as well. But I sighed and followed Tobias to where Claire stood at the ticket booth.

Fortunately, I didn’t have to discuss my topic for very long (that topic being how the stars related to divine prophesy and what was fact and what was fiction). The doors were opened, and we were carried into the lobby of the theater by the mass of people swarming around us. By some miracle, Irwin and Artemis found us once we were all inside.

We gave our tickets to the usher, who then led us up a flight of stairs to a box seat in the eastern wing of the auditorium. I found myself watching Claire in perplexity. How had she managed to afford five tickets in a spot normally reserved for the noble class and their servants? What strings had she pulled?

"Stop speculating," Artemis whispered in my ear, and when I turned to look at him in surprise, he smiled at me affectionately. In the dark atmosphere of the auditorium, the torch lights dimmed, he leaned forward and kissed my lips. "Enjoy the performance."

How his touches filled me with such warmth and love! I smiled at him without realizing it and sank down into a seat beside him. He clasped my hand in his and let his head rest against the back of his chair, large, luminous topaz eyes gleaming at me from behind the fringe of his bangs.

I wanted to kiss him again, to revel in the taste of him as I had in the Astrology Attic the previous week, but there were simply too many people around to witness it. And I could feel Irwin watching us without meaning to. Tobias was mindful of us with his keen Fellahin hearing. Only Claire, my fellow human, seemed blissfully unaware.

So I settled for holding his hand in mine, memorizing the texture of his slender fingers and his fragile wrists, while the torches in their sconces were smothered. We clapped appropriately as the large red curtain was drawn back from the stage, revealing a stage rimmed with oil lamps. A single spotlight streamed down from the catwalks to illuminate a truly angelic figure poised in a graceful position. Some cretin in the audience began to cheer loudly, but his racket was quickly stifled by hisses of protest and one man’s well-aimed boot.

The ballerina in the center of the stage rose up high on her point shoes, slender limbs extending in the most graceful of arabesques. The orchestra in the pit began a slow, mournful dirge as she floated across the stage. I caught onto the plot line as easily as if the orchestra were words whispered covertly into my attentive ear.

She was a young girl in her middle teenage years, the daughter of a wealthy nobleman (indicated by the brash, standoffish man poised stiffly and dimly illuminated at stage-left) who longed more than anything to run away from home with a mysterious stranger who had seduced her with his songs. But the stranger turned out to be nothing better than a demon, one of the elite chosen by the minions of Hell to rally against Stell and his angels. The girl, it turned out, was a Victoria-like figure, an angel in the mortal realm without being aware of it. And the mysterious stranger became consumed with destroying her purity. I watched in awe as he, garbed in rags, danced a violent duet with her on stage, finally capturing her in his thick arms. The orchestra raged wildly, the girl struggled, and finally, with a swift bite to her neck, her life was over.

But no! As if rising from a nightmare, she startled on the ground where she lay, eyes wide and lips parted in shock. She was no longer an angel, she realized, but a creature as terrible as the mysterious stranger who had taken her. And he was no where to be seen. The girl knew (though I know not how) that the only way she could regain her mortality was to take the life of one who truly loved her. But to do so by the light of day would be impossible, for the rays of the sun would scorch her, charring the life from her.

She danced past many prospective lovers, none of whom appealed to her, until a blonde beauty of a man stepped into the spotlight, blue eyes as iridescent as the moonlight. And in that moment, she knew that he would be the one!

Across the auditorium, my eyes locked with the eyes of this extraordinary actor, and it seemed that he committed my face to memory, before he opened his mouth. A song like nothing I had ever heard before erupted from between his lips, so full and exotic, resonating throughout the entire auditorium and filling it with the sweet notes. I was captivated, drawn into the world which he wove with his words and voice.

I could not pay attention to the rest of the performance, so captivated was I by the lucid words that streamed from the male protagonist’s mouth. I listened in rapturous silence, not to the words themselves, but by the quality of his voice. Out of simple curiosity, I chanced a glance at Artemis, and found him to be in a state similar to mine. Our eyes met, and a shaky smile crossed his lips.

"He’s amazing," he whispered to me.

"I know," I answered in earnest agreement, tightening my hand in his.

The young man seemed to fall for the girl, who wooed him lovingly and promised him eternity if he would give her his heart. And he agreed passionately, grasping her by her shoulders. He tried to kiss her (what a fool she was for moving away!), but she protested. Not now, she said, for I fear that my kiss will slay you.

The play was long and complex, charming and witty as well as somber and tragic. The tale ended the way all had presumed it would, with the girl taking the life of her mortal lover… Yet she lived the rest of her mortal years in the throes of guilt, considering her actions to be nothing better than murder.

There was uproarious applause after both the girl and the young man left the stage, and a standing ovation from all. I was among the first to spring to my feet, Artemis at my side. Claire whistled and shouted, clapping perhaps the loudest of us all. Irwin stood slowly, elegantly, and his applause was more conservative, but I could see the clear appreciation for the work in his eyes as well.

Leaving the box, Artemis said to me, "We should see this again."

And we did. Once more with Tobias and Claire (Irwin disliked the noise too much to come again, but I suspected more), and three more times with only ourselves. We could not afford the seats that Claire had given to us, but our seats, though not giving us as good a vantage point as they had before, placed us nearer to the stage. The ballerina was a beautiful young woman, though older up close than she had appeared from the box seats. Her partner, the luscious and blue-eyed angel of a man, was just as spectacular twelve feet away as he had been twenty meters. And his overpowering voice bowled us over, leaving us breathless in our seats while a sheen of sweat formed at his hairline, giving his shockingly blonde hair a glossy gleam that reflected the spotlight.

When we were not in the theater, we frequented the nearby cafés to learn as much about Alecielle de Lemiux as we could (the likeness to my name was eerie). We learned what I have already stated, that he was wealthy and foreign and as enigmatic to those close to him as to those who admired him from afar. He was never seen in the night of day, and always he disappeared after his performances to a home that no one could seem to find. He took his pretty ballerina with him, despite the female companions that flocked after him.

One bright, sunny morning when there were no classes, I sat up in Irwin’s attic, speaking with my professor in regards to the actor; Artemis still slept placidly in his own room.

"I think he’s magnificent," I said in adulation of Alecielle, "a true artist. You heard his voice, Irwin. His talent is as grand as anything I have heard in this city. I wish I knew where he was from—perhaps he came from some little known art school in southern Kalaweinvyrismere…"

"You said he was foreign yourself," Irwin pointed out.

"Well, yes," I admitted, "but perhaps he studied somewhere nearby as well."

Irwin voiced a small noise of dissatisfaction, and I found myself suddenly afraid. Had I displeased him? What was wrong? "Irwin?" I asked.

He looked at me pensively for a moment over the rim of his spectacles; how young and vibrant he looked then. "There is something wrong with that man, Rocielle," he told me gently, as though wary of bruising my ego. "Artemis does not sense it. Tobias does not sense it. But Bessera, Belinda and I most certainly do. We are not sure what he is, Rocielle, but he is not human."

"What do you mean?" I demanded suspiciously. "He’s not Fellahin. I’ve spent enough time around Toby to know what a Fellahin looks like. And he’s most certainly not Kakarah—"

"You are not listening, Rocielle," he said placidly.

Before I could protest, there came a light rap at the trapdoor. Irwin rose faultlessly and crossed the room. He knelt beside the door, opened it a crack, and accepted the letter slipped through the small crack. He looked at the envelope, before his eyes turned to me.

"It’s for you," he said. "From a Lord Ulrich Stein."

‘Lord?’ The new title could mean only one thing, and in despair I accepted the letter as he handed it to me.

With trembling hands I tore it open and pulled the parchment out roughly. I perused the text:

Otto Stein was dead.

For a time, it didn’t seem possible. But then the reality of it hit me like a powerful gust of wind, and I gripped the tabletop tightly with one hand. "I don’t believe it," I whispered feebly.

Irwin didn’t speak. He poured a cup of tea for me soundlessly.

"He’s dead," I choked. "Otto is dead. And how he hated me, even in his death… Irwin, I can’t bear it!"

He placed the tea cup in my hand. "Drink," he urged me, his tone placating. "Drink it and be at peace, Rocielle, for I know how this pains you."

I didn’t doubt it. I stared at him in sadness and saw such an empathy reflecting in his eyes, such a deep and unfathomable sorrow for me and my disconsolate state. I wondered, then, if Irwin had ever felt such a wave of combined guilt and despair in his life. A flicker in his eyes told me it was so.

He touched my hand gently with his own atop the table. "I am of your ilk, Rocielle," he told me somberly, and I knew immediately what he meant. "I grew up in the mountains far to the west, and during my young adulthood, there was a man who caught my fancy. He was the first for many things with me. First romance, first kiss, first lover…" He sighed wistfully. "But there was one piece of information of which he had failed to inform me: he had a wife."

"Wife?" I gasped. "He was married?"

Irwin nodded sadly, his eyes two green, gleaming mirrors. "For twenty years; he was much older than me, you see, and that was part of what drew me to him. He taught me things that I would never have known had I not learned them with him. But not even those sensual gifts were enough to mend the break in my heart.

"And the guilt! Oh, you speak of guilt, but you did not sleep with another woman’s husband. And she came after me in a rage. When she could not find me to punish me, she turned on her husband and slaughtered him brutally. I watched the entire ordeal from my hiding place, but I was far too young to have the courage to stand up against her. I sobbed in secrecy, but I fled when she turned on her own children. That was butchery, Rocielle. Murder. And for years, I was convinced that I was in the wrong, that I was the one responsible for the death of my lover, and the deaths of his three beautiful girls.

"Now, years later, I know that is not so. I know that I was not the one who turned that knife on those children. I know that I was not the one who decided to be unfaithful to my wife. I was a child, barely older than you are now, and easily misled." He placed both of his hands atop mine and stared into my eyes, conveying a deep message simply in the intensity of his stare. "What I’m trying to tell you, Rocielle, is that you are not at fault. The late Lord Stein chose to despise you for his own reasons." He tried to smile. "Now, I’m not the sort of person to blasphemy the dead… but it seems that he was also a poor judge of character to dislike someone as marvelous, giving, and intelligent as you are."

"It was because I loved Ulrich—"

"And who does love more powerfully than one who is forbidden it," Irwin said sagely and shook his head. "How I wish there were more students like you on this campus."

I excused myself quietly and returned to my bedchamber. I immersed myself in poetry for hours, chasing from my mind every image of Otto that I had ever kept locked away in my memory. I wanted to forget him, this man whom I had hoped might one day accept me as the lover of his exotic son. It was never to be, it seemed, as if Stell had ordained it otherwise. As if I had been destined from the very beginning to love Ulrich, yet never be able to share a bed with him, never be able to rise with him in the mornings. Never be able to trace lazy patterns across his chest before falling asleep at night.

Simple things. Shared breakfast, little quarrels over mundane stuff, life changing decisions… What I wouldn’t give to share it all with him, my Ulrich, whom I had loved for so long. But the acceptance I had always craved from Otto Stein would never be given. I would never see his smile again.

‘Where had that come from?’ I wondered through my sadness. A memory called up from my early days at the du Monte Manor… James. Who was he?

I realized abruptly who they referred to, and wondered why I had not realized it years before. The James that Katherine had whispered about must have been my father.

My father. Yet another person I had been cheated from.

I grabbed a quill and decided to vent out my rage on parchment.

"Please don’t," someone whispered beside me.

I dropped the quill and staggered back from my chair. I saw Artemis sitting in my window, his wide topaz eyes as somber as any pair of eyes could ever be. I glared at him, wanting to blame him for everything.

"How much did you read!" I demanded of him harshly.

"Everything," he answered softly, honestly. "Every word."

"How dare you!" I snarled in outrage and snatched up the piece of parchment. I crinkled it up into a ball of smeared paper and flung it out the window over his head with a violence I did not know I possessed. He flinched away from me. "You read my private things often? Like you read my mind when you think I’m not paying attention?"

"I don’t read your thoughts purposely, Rocielle," Artemis pleaded in despair; my misery-induced rage upset him, I could see it in the fractured expression on his face, but I couldn’t bring myself to care. My anger was too great.

"Whether you do it intentionally or by accident, it makes no difference," I sneered. "You still end up with knowledge that was never yours to know. These thoughts are my own, Artemis, and you can never know them, never! Not unless I tell you!"

Quite suddenly he became angry as well, but it was a passive sort of anger that I was accustomed to seeing in Jeff the stable hand when he dealt with ornery horses. "How can you expect for anything to develop between us if you won’t tell me when or why you’re upset?" he demanded, but his voice was soft. "I may be a telepath, Rocielle, but I am not going to plunge headlong into your mind and wallow in thoughts that are not mine. I’m not so petty a thief. But I want to help you, I want to help you recover from your pain—"

"Recover," I snorted in disdain, but he went on vehemently.

"Yes, recover!" he said angrily, rising now so that he stood in my room. "I want you to recover, Rocielle, to become the amazing scholar that I know you have the potential to become!" I stared at him wordlessly, and he stared back, overcome by the emotions surging within him. He swallowed hard, and when he spoke again it was with a physical effort to control his haggard breathing. "You torture yourself day in and day out with the knowledge that a man you know and love is suffering, suffering horribly, yet there is nothing you can do to help him. Rocielle, there is nothing that can be done, can’t you see? He is confined to his fate, just as his father was confined to his fate. Just as his sons or daughters will be confined to theirs, and on goes the vicious cycle.

"You don’t have that," he whispered, and ventured nearer to me. I was quivering with my penned up anger, my jaws clenched tightly shut, but as he placed his own quivering hands on my shoulders, the anger turned into an overwhelming sadness. I clenched my eyes.

"I don’t want to let him go," I managed to whisper through my teeth. "I never want to let him go."

"Then hold onto him tightly," Artemis whispered to me gently and lifted one of his slender hands to cup my cheek. "Hold onto him, cherish what you once had, love him if you absolutely must, but recognize that he is as resigned to his destiny as we are." He let his forehead rest against mine, and I could hear the tears he was bravely trying to stave off for my sake. "And let me inside your heart, in the name of Stell above…" His final plea broke my heart, and the floodgates opened.

Tears poured down my cheeks in rushing rivulets, tears that I had not cried since Mother had screamed at Michael those many nights ago in the Trinity Quarter. I sobbed not just for my Ulrich, but for Otto’s death and the bitter blood that remained between us, for Aunt Jill and her sorrow and for Helena, for my brother, my Michael, whom I had abandoned when he needed me most…

For this man who wanted so desperately to know and love me, as I had once wanted to know and love him. As I still did. I clung to him and sobbed against his neck, felt his arms envelope me and hold me tightly, his fingers in my hair and his lips brushing across my forehead.

"Let us try," I whispered feebly after my fit of tears had partially abated itself. I swallowed and pushed my unkempt hair out of my eyes. "I want to try."

He kissed me softly, sweetly, and held my face between his hands. His touches were not like the impassioned, frenzied caresses that Ulrich had given me. There was, of course, a passion in Artemis, but it was the passion of the rolling, cresting waves of the sea, not the raging fire that had fueled Ulrich—

I vowed then never to compare him to Ulrich again. I returned his kisses gently.