The Wolf Esprit: Lykanos Chronicles 3

“There you are,” she whispered.

Thérèse shot up from her seat the moment I entered the quick-change tent. I’d hoped to go unnoticed in the bustle of the last moments of the night’s performance, but she’d been waiting for me.

“What do you need?” I asked.

“Nothing, but I was worried you wouldn’t make it back before the show finished. Your mother was looking for you. Madame Pummeroy hurt her hand during the first set and needed help to dress the players. To distract her, I sent little Fontin to run through the camp to find you. ”

“I’m sorry, I—”

“You found him?” Mother’s hushed voice came from behind me.

Thérèse glanced at her, faltering for a moment, but quickly recovered.

“Yes, I went to find him myself. He was assisting Monsieur Chauvin with the stalls. Fontin must’ve missed him.”

“Do you need help?” I asked.

“Don’t worry. I figured it out,” Mother said with an absolving wave of her hand. She nodded thanks to Thérèse and turned to leave the tent as if satisfied.

I stared and Thérèse, recognizing she’d just completed a rouse with only the slightest help from me.

“Well, then?” The same twinkle from earlier lit up her eyes with excitement.

“I was mistaken,” I lied. “He was just someone who loved the show and wanted to ask me questions. He introduced me to his wife, and they fed me dinner.”

The light in her eyes dimmed, and she reached to hug me.

“I’m sorry,” Thérèse whispered.

Focused on my deception, I was unprepared for her immediate concern over my faux disappointment. I placed my arms around her to complete the hug and held her for a moment, grateful for the comfort despite my shame for lying. She buried the side of her head into the crook of my neck as she always did—as a small child would to a parent.

An unavoidable clarity overcame me at that moment, resolving the questions I’d wrestled with all evening. Fear and selfishness were all it was. I’d avoided the clear answer, desperate to take this part of my life with me on the journey ahead. But as I held Thérèse in my arms, I understood why I couldn’t.

Maximillian and Gabrielle had said as much. They’d shared a dozen different points to assure me. And I saw now the value of their patience, letting me swallow the truth in my own time and way.

I couldn’t share my truth with Thérèse, but nor could I spend my life lying to her. Each false word would be a betrayal, and the shame that resulted would slice my heart open.

With a pained sigh, I released her one last time and left the make-up tent without another word.

The following morning slipped through my hands like sand. Absorbed by every minutia around me, I struggled to perform any of my duties. I stared at the common details I wanted to remember, often unable to pull my focus from them. The texture of my family’s tent fabric. The notches in the wood of our small breakfast table. The sound of the men’s voices as they walked together to begin the day’s chores—how they would break out into little songs along the way. I’d decided it would be the last time I experienced any of it, that I would take the Roussades up on their offer and leave my family that evening. Resolved, I now wanted to remember every detail of La troupe du mystère de l’amour.

“Pay attention,” Father said with an impatient glare.

We’d begun packing non-essentials. Tonight would be the last performance in Saulieu, and tomorrow morning we’d focus on deconstructing the stage and dormitories. The pre-packing of all else would happen today.

“Forgive me, sir.”

“You’re going to damage the fabric if you don’t roll it properly.”

“Yes, Father.”

He gave a sharp sigh and returned to the storage cart, where the other men arranged boxes.

For a moment, I considered antagonizing him. The strange feeling of joy mingled with my decision to leave tonight allowed me to consider things I’d always avoided. A year of silence had passed between Father and me, stopping only when the slightest hint of tenderness broke from his wall of loathing and disapproval. And now, I had only a day left with him—something he didn’t know and could never suspect.

“Are you going to allow Thérèse and me to marry?”

Annoyed shock took Father’s face, just as I’d expected, though I was unprepared for what he did then. He lay down his tools in a huff and took me firmly by the arm to walk us several paces out of earshot.

“What in hell is wrong with you?” he grumbled.

“I’m seventeen,” I answered without blinking. “Will you not allow me to marry?”

Father released an exasperated sigh and shot his eyes away for a moment of impatience.

“Thérèse and I love each other.”

“You don’t love each other,” he returned, “not as a man loves a woman. You love to sit and prattle on with her about childish nonsense. You don’t want her in your bed, not to seed her as a man should.”

It was the bluntest thing he’d ever said to me on the matter, and his words silenced me. My inclination to protest locked in my throat.

“Why would you want to do that to her?” he pressed. “You’d let her marry you and forsake a proper life? Would you relieve her of the happiness of a real man? Of children? How could you be so cruel and selfish? And for what, to have her fill your stomach and keep your home?”

I had no response to his frank questions, and I struggled to look into his eyes.

“You may have turned your eyes from God to feed your perversion, but I didn’t raise you to be so cruel to the people who love you.”

“Haven’t you?” I said in defiance.

My question drew such anger from Father’s eyes that I became sure he would strike me.

“You’re only standing here because I’m not a cruel man. Anyone else would have left you behind—left you to peddle your perversion on the streets to the lowest dregs who would have you. Instead, I’ve let you remain with us. I feed and house you. I allow you to perform with us to learn a craft that will keep you off the streets. All this I’ve done to help you become at least the imitation of a man—so you can stand on your own feet one day! But I won’t allow you to condemn that unsuspecting girl to a barren life.”

I would never marry Thérèse. It was something I’d never wanted. If he’d forced me to marry her, I’d likely run away. If anything, I clung to her because I didn’t want someone else to come between the special relationship we bore. Ours was a pure love, unmolested by the lust that other boys felt toward her.

Instead, what I’d wanted was the truth from Father. I’d wanted to know how he truly felt about me. It was a foolish need I’d sated in the most childish manner possible, and I was overcome by regret at once. To hear him expose the truth in his heart, his loathing of me, was even more painful than his silence, and I wish I’d said nothing at all to him. I wish I could walk away to start my new life at this very moment.

“She knows,” I said. “She’s always known about me. And you’re right—I’d never do that to her. Just forget the whole thing.”

I turned back to the other men, but Father pulled on my arm to stop me.

“Do you want to go? I mean to leave us,” he whispered.

The question startled me. And I didn’t understand how he could realize my intention.

“Dijon is a massive city. It has conservatories and theatres with its own musicians and performers living there. You’re very talented, Esprit. You could sing in their opera choir. I know you could get a job there if you tried. You wouldn’t have anyone to care for you, but if you put your heart into it, you could make a living and survive. I couldn’t give you much, but you wouldn’t starve for at least a year.”

I was so taken by his suggestion and offer that I didn’t know what to say in response.

“This is no life for you, Esprit. You’ll never be happy with us, not the way you are. It’s a curse you bear, and I see now there’s nothing you can do to change it. You should start anew where no one knows you.”

I stared back at him without moving, now at last certain of why I must die to them all. He’d already resolved I would leave them, but he hadn’t yet had the courage to tell me until I pushed his hand.

“Think about my proposal. You’ll have at least two weeks before we break from Dijon and move on. Why not spend your time there searching for a job? Even if you fail, the clergy will take you in and give you a bed. They will let you join their order.”

Father stared down at the ground for a moment of ponderous silence.

“And they will help keep your affliction from harming you more.”