Prince of Blood and Roses - Translation Sample

Chapter 2

Danse à la lumière du feu

Dance in the firelight

In his dreams, Leo wandered aimlessly across the square in front of the Palais Royal. He desperately searched for François but found nothing but empty faces impassively staring through him. The crowd thinned. More and more men gathered near the entrances, all of them wearing the faces of the two beggars he had given alms to the day before. They inched inexorably closer, and Leo reached for something to defend himself, but found only the red book, that turned to ashes in his hands.

He awoke with a scream. Above him he saw fire. The blue canopy was burnig, but the flames were cool and did not reach him. Before he could take a closer look, he opened his eyes. The blue velvet was untouched - it had only been a dream.

But his heart still refused to calm. His upper body was covered with beads of sweat. Leo shivered as the chilly breeze that was blowing through one of the open windows touched him. He pulled the blanket up to his neck and felt a warm hand wrap around him. Startled, he looked into François' sleepy eyes.

"What's wrong?" His friend yawned softly.

"Just a nightmare." Leo forced a smile and snuggled into the embrace.

***

"Lionel! What's François doing here?" His mother set the teacup down with a clink and gave the two young men a scathing look. "We’re too busy today to accommodate guests."

"Since you’re always such a devoted hostess, ma chère…" Leo's father sighed without looking up from the newspaper.

Despite the less than hospitable greeting, Leo and François joined Marie at the breakfast table. It was obvious where she and Leo got their light hair from. Their mother wore her blonde curls artfully pinned up and powdered gray, which Leo didn't quite understand. Though it was the current fashion, but he preferred her natural color. They would turn gray soon enough.

"You're welcome here anyway, François," the Comtesse de la Fayette said with a sweet smile, pointing to the seat next to Marie, which made the young woman blush.

With a slight bow, François followed her invitation and Leo took the seat at his side, rolling his eyes.

It was rarely quiet at the Château de la Fayette. Leo's parents hosted various soirees, and in the meantime, the family often received guests. Although he enjoyed the distraction, sometimes it was too bothersome - another reason why he liked to escape to François and his family, the Beaumonts. Their chateau was simpler and more comfortable. They seldom held luxurious celebrations.

"Where is Thomas?" Leo asked as he waved a servant over to pour him and François some fresh tea.

"Unlike you, your brother spends his time doing something meaningful." Leo's father put down the newspaper and gave his youngest son a quizzical look.

"You of all people should understand that it’s of utmost importance to enjoy the life we’re given. It’s called savoir vivre," Leo declared with raised eyebrows, eliciting a soft giggle from Marie's direction.

"I hope you don't take your brother as an example, chérie."

Marie fell silent at her mother's stern words. She looked down at her plate in embarrassment, the red on her cheeks becoming even more pronounced.

"As if you were any better," Leo muttered, taking a listless bite from a piece of brioche. He was glad that François was used to the little arguments, otherwise it would have been quite unpleasant. His relationship with his parents was passable, although they often expressed displeasure with his indecent activities. However, since he hardly ever suffered consequences and they limited the punishment to mere words, he did not resent them. Though he thought of them as sanctimonious, since they lived their lives just as leisurely as he did.

Leo breathed a sigh of relief when he heard familiar footsteps and shortly after, his older brother appeared in the doorway. With his brown hair, he took after their father and was a little taller and broader built than Leo. His coat and riding boots indicated that he wasn't planning on keeping them company.

"I’ve sent the letter, maman," he said cheerfully, picking up a pastry from a serving tray as he passed. "I hope her father will hear me out soon."

"He'd be a fool not to." The smile on her mother's face was cool but satisfied. "It takes a load off my mind to have at least one of my children married by the end of the year."

Thomas just laughed, gave François a friendly nod, and leaned against the table next to Leo.

"If Lionel didn't come home with a new lover every other night and Marie paid attention to a suitor for more than five minutes, Thomas wouldn't have to bear the responsibility alone." Her father got up and briskly walked past them. "François must have a terrible impression of us." He sighed again and left.

"Not at all, I..." But François interrupted himself, Leo's father was already out of earshot.

"Are you going to the Villieux’ soiree tonight? I can't make it - can you give them my regards?" Thomas asked, shoving the pastry into his mouth.

"Is that today?" Marie looked at her brother with sparkling eyes.

"You're not going, chérie." There was something final in her mother's tone.

"But maman!" Marie looked at her pleadingly but was only met with a shake of her head.

"It's far too risky without a chaperone."

"François and I will go, we can take her with us." Leo hadn't talked to his friend about it yet but assumed that he wouldn't mind. As expected, François nodded.

"That is out of the question. There are few who would be less suitable than you, mon fils."

As harsh as the words were, the expression on her face softened.

"I know with you, Marie is in good hands, but I'm probably the only one who does. Your reputation might taint hers."

Leo sighed in resignation, and Marie also seemed to have lost her fighting spirit.

"Don't worry, I'll take you with me next time." Thomas gave her a friendly wink and the smile returned to her face.

She was also comforted by the book Leo had picked up for her the day before. They had recently seen "The Marriage of Figaro" at the theater. The play’s romantic humor had greatly appealed to Marie. The book was decorated with flowery tendrils and contained the script. Leo, on the other hand, found the scandal the play had caused much more entertaining, since it had shamelessly criticized the nobility.

***

The soiree was held in a noble Parisian townhouse near the Place Vendôme. Leo had insisted travelling by horse instead of carriage. The cool evening air and a quick ride put him in the proper mood for the party, and since he had once again decided against wearing one of those fashionable wigs, there was nothing to deter him. François was even more passionate about riding and nature than Leo.

The Villieux party was one of Paris’ most lavish soirees. Members of the court frequently attended and sometimes even the queen herself.

Accordingly, Leo had chosen his finest red silk coat and a matching mask. It was one of the popular masquerades that were so en vogue these days. The guests loved to hide their identities to celebrate even more lavishly. While François liked to make use of it, Leo usually wore the accessory only on his wrist - he didn't care if people saw who he was and who he associated with at parties. On the contrary. It was Thomas’ burden to uphold the family honor - in return, Leo would cultivate his reputation as a bon vivant.

The hall was bathed in warm candlelight. Lively music filled the room, and the guests danced and laughed free from the worries that plagued the city outside the golden walls. The colorful fabrics created a splendid picture that was reminiscent of an opulent garden steeped in the finest flowers. As Leo mingled with the crowd, he thought for a moment about the destitute situation of the poorer citizens. So many of them could have lived off the money this soiree had cost for years. But the thought vanished as quickly as it had come.

Abundance reigned within these walls, and Leo lived to enjoy it.

As he made his way through the throng of finely dressed nobles, he was pleased to see a few curious glances directed at him. He made sure his back was straight, his walk elegant and his smile irresistible.

There were few things that gave him such a rush as knowing that he kindled people's imagination. Except perhaps nights with François, who walked confidently behind him, but not nearly as attention-seeking.

"If you insist on playing the peacock, wear feathers next time," his friend chided him, and Leo guffawed.

"Don't give me any ideas," he jested and took two sparkling glasses from a silver tray. He handed one to François, a few drops of champagne spilling over the rim.

"To a successful evening!" Leo toasted him, at which François shook his head with a smile.

"I know what success you're talking about, and I'm not sure I should be enabling you." Giving himself liquid courage, he drained the glass and immediately took another, prompting Leo to do the same.

"I have a feeling something important is about to happen," the pretty blonde announced.

"Like what? That tonight you'll be sharing a bed with two pretty ladies - or gentlemen - instead of just one?" François seemed less convinced than Leo, but that didn't dampen his mood. It was something else that cast a shadow over his mind.

The Mystic's cards appeared in Leo’s memory, and he tried to push them away as quickly as possible. If there was one thing that he excelled at, it was to distract himself and hide his worries under all kinds of pleasures. François was the only one who regularly brought him back to earth. But that was no place he was keen on visiting now. And for once, neither was his friend.

"Dance with me!" Leo grinned and reached for his hand.

"But we ... you know - what will people think?" François stopped, obviously irritated by his friend's enthusiasm. He barely managed to put his glass down on a sideboard before Leo pulled him along.

"They won't think about anything." Leo laughed and looked curiously around the dance floor. The evening had progressed far enough, and wine and champagne were flowing freely. Etiquette was forgotten, and they were not the only ones who did not dance with their partner, as decorum dictated. On the contrary, dance partners changed faster than the eye could tell whether the next target was wearing dress or trousers.

François was quickly relieved, and Leo discovered a sparkle in his warm brown eyes. They danced freely, with Leo leading and his friend pressing closer and closer to him. Now they did get a few skeptical looks. However, most of the onlookers were far too busy with themselves to care. The soft blush on François' cheeks spurred Leo on, and he leaned in until his lips almost touched his friend’s ear.

"Perhaps my success will be tempting you to let me bed you two nights in a row," he whispered, feeling his friend's breath quicken.

But the music announced a change, and with it a rotation of dance partners. François seemed relieved, but Leo could still feel his longing gaze. This time he was dancing with a pretty lady he recognized as a young widow his brother had told him about. She seemed very pleased and didn't take her eyes off him as he led her across the floor with confident steps.

"If you looked at me the way you look at your handsome friend, I would have passed out by now." She smiled and winked at him. The makeup on her cheeks didn't show if she was really blushing, and Leo was glad that François didn't care about powder or rouge.

"That would be tragic, ma chère!" Leo's eyes went wide. He did his best to look as shocked as possible. "I wouldn't be able to dance with you anymore!"

They both laughed, and he made a mental note to add her to the list of those he wanted to call his conquests. At least if her enthusiasm lasted. As much as Leo prided himself on seducing and satisfying a plethora of beautiful people, he always made a point of doing so only when it was specifically requested. So, he gave himself freely and willingly into the arms of one or another, but his bed was shared only by those whom he knew would have fought for him if he had not invited them there so willingly.

The music changed again, and this time Leo almost stumbled, but his counterpart caught him gently and began to lead him now, which he accepted without protest. It was a man whose face reminded him of a Greek statue, so beautiful and immaculately pale was he.

Like many of the guests, he still wore his purple mask, which resembled a Venetian one with its gold adornments and only covered the upper half of his beautiful face. His curly auburn hair framed his forehead and cheeks. His dark eyes glinted in the candlelight. Leo was confused to see that they looked unnaturally red. The way they gazed at him, he felt as if they had cast a spell. There was something about them that made him forget the world around them and allow nothing but his gaze. Leo's breathing quickened and he felt a little dizzy. The stranger smiled suggestively, and this time Leo felt his own cheeks redden. Maybe tonight he was not the conqueror, but the conquered.

The thought appealed to him far more than he cared to admit.

"Do we know each other?" Leo asked breathlessly. The stranger just tilted his head to one side, just as Leo had done with François earlier. As the man began to speak, Leo felt his cool breath on his neck and a pleasant shiver ran down his spine.

"Maybe? Not well enough yet, anyway." The man's velvety voice was barely more than a whisper, and Leo found himself holding his breath. "But I sure hope that changes soon, little prince."

With that, he leaned back, and the music indicated another change. In a trance, Leo watched the man walk away and suddenly he was holding an unknown woman in his arms. It took all his willpower to concentrate on the dance and not step on her feet. When etiquette allowed it, he left the dance floor and looked around. The man was nowhere in sight. The more Leo thought about it, the more he felt he looked familiar. Had he seen him at other parties? Had they met before? With trembling fingers, he searched for another glass of champagne and drained it in one gulp. His heart slowly calmed down, but the strange feeling remained. He usually didn't let himself get rattled so quickly.

"Leo? Are you alright?" François' voice sounded distant, and Leo took a deep breath until he turned to his friend and nodded.

"Oui, just a little too much wine. It doesn't go well with the fast turns."

François didn't seem entirely convinced and gave him a worried look.

As much as Leo enjoyed the carefree evening, he couldn't get the stranger out of his mind. Just like the dark foreboding he tried so hard to forget. The candles in the chandeliers reminded him of the fire in his dream, the playing cards on the tables like were the little dots on the Tower card, and the overflowing glasses of champagne brought the goblets to mind. Normally he wouldn't have believed such superstitions, but why wouldn't the strange feeling go away?

Shortly after midnight, he left the room with François to get some fresh air.

"I should be on my way. The evening has went on long enough." He yawned and stretched.

"That doesn't sound like you at all." François put his hands on Leo's shoulders and gave him a questioning look.

"I'm just tired, that's all." Leo forced a smile. "All this mess at home is driving me crazy. Thomas' engagement, Marie's suitors, my parents' annoying guests. I just need some peace and quiet."

François nodded in relief and went ahead to where the horses were leashed.

"Would you rather I ride home? Knowing you as I do, my presence will keep you from sleeping." He smiled with feigned guilt. Leo gave him a gentle pat.

"Don't you dare! Your presence is exactly the distraction I need."

***

The shadows of the previous night clouded the ride home to his family's chateau. It was almost surreal, as if no time had passed and they had only just left the fortune teller's tent.

A while later, they turned into the tree-lined road. This time, too, the light was brighter than usual. Leo didn't know why his heart started to beat frantically again, but the ominous feeling was stronger than ever before. He spurred his stallion on to see what gave the impression.

But what they saw was not candlelight. It was fire. Blazing, all-consuming fire.

Leo's eyes widened in panic, and he felt his heart pounding as if it wanted to jump out of his chest. Then he rode faster than he had ever ridden before.

Everything around him blurred. He heard François calling in the distance, or maybe it was just his imagination.

The building was on fire.

The doors were closed, apparently barred, and a column of smoke rose into the sky.

A crowd of people had gathered outside the castle. Some were desperately pouring water from buckets into a broken window. It was hopeless. Others didn't seem worried at all. On the contrary, they were celebrating.

Leo charged through the crowd, barely managing to stay in the saddle as his horse reared up to avoid getting closer to the flames. He descended and the stallion fled towards the garden.

Smoke stung Leo's eyes and lungs. Heat scorched his skin. There was no point in going inside, even if the door had not been boarded up.

Suddenly he heard a familiar voice. It was that of an older woman. Disoriented, he turned around to see where it was coming from.

"Seigneur!" A portly woman in a soot-stained apron ran toward him and grabbed his arm. She was his family's cook. He didn’t manage to answer or ask what had happened to his parents and siblings. Too many feelings waged war in his heart.

"I'm so glad you're safe! It's terrible ... they're in there ..."

Her voice trailed off and she looked up at him, eyes wide and tears streaming down her cheeks.

"Who's in there?" he asked tonelessly. His voice sounded strange.

"Monsieur le Comte, the Countess, everyone! Me and the other servants from the kitchen were the only ones who made it out. They let us go."

Leo looked up at the inferno. It would be suicide to go inside, even if he could.

He thought feverishly if there was a way but couldn't think of anything. Some roof tiles came loose and tumbled down. He barely managed to pull the cook aside in time. The heat and smoke made it hard to think. But one thought came to him. And it threatened to swallow all else.

"They?" he asked the cook, his voice shaking. "Who?"

"Those men! Revolutionaries, they say. They even said they'd let us live because we're just servants ... but the others are still in there!"

Leo slowly turned to face the group of men he had noticed earlier. His hand slipped from the cook’s shoulder and for a moment he saw nothing but the half dozen figures standing close by, passing around a bottle of wine. At their feet stood a few sacks with golden candlesticks and other treasures poking out. Leo barely felt François, who had finally caught up with him, reach for his arm. His voice seemed so far away that he couldn't make out his words.

Leo felt a strange calm. The world around him went up in flames, him being trapped in the eye of the storm. He heard a murmur that drowned out the inferno and the voices. It was the blood in his ears. A wave came crashing down, and he noticed his feet moving of their own accord. Just before he reached the men, it collapsed on him. A wave of scorching hot anger he had never felt before.

He didn't even realize that he was hopelessly outmatched. It wouldn't have mattered to him. His common sense had been enough to keep him from rushing into the burning building. But it wasn't enough to keep him from throwing himself at the men.

"Did you do it? Did you kill them?!" he shouted so viciously that his throat burned.

The men laughed and looked at him in amusement.

"Look, Henri, isn't that the little lord from yesterday?" one of them inquired.

"I don't know, the powder-faces all look the same to me," replied the one called Henri.

Leo stared at them for a moment. They were in fact the ones who had received his alms the day before. He looked at them in disbelief. How could these men, whose lives he might even have saved, destroy his own?

The adrenaline in his veins gave him no chance to think any further. He lunged at Henri, dragging him to the ground, punching him. His fist slammed into the man's face. Again and again, until blood flowed from his mouth and nose. His knuckles hurt, but Leo felt nothing but rage. He was out of breath. His hands went to Henri's throat, and he squeezed as hard as he could. Mercilessly, just as they had wiped out his family. Henri's hands desperately clapped against his arms but couldn't get a grip. Leo felt something give under his fingers and the man jerked and gasped.

A sharp pain shot through his side and the next thing he saw was the gravel where his head collided with the dirty road. In the distance he heard François frantically shouting his name.

The other men had snapped out of their stupor and had dragged him off Henri. Leo tried to get up, but a heavy kick to his stomach made him buckle. He moaned in pain. But the men didn't give him any pause. One kick followed another. There was nothing left in his body but agony. His stomach, his chest, his legs, and finally his head.

He couldn't even tell how many were attacking him. The only things he noticed were the pain and the screams of the cook and François. His friend tried to get the men off him, but when he was hit on the head with a well-aimed blow, he collapsed, unconscious.

Leo was almost jealous, though he hoped François hadn't been hurt too badly. He just wanted it to be over. To see his family again and the pain to end. But the men knew what they were doing. They wouldn't let him die so easily.

In addition to kicking him, they shouted insults, poured the rest of the wine over him, and seemed to have completely forgotten about the injured Henri. Leo only heard that they wanted to do their job thoroughly, but before they killed the last la Fayette, they wanted to have some fun. By fun, they obviously meant torturing him with kicks and punches until he joined his family.

Leo tasted blood. He was slowly getting cold. The pain became dull and the world before his eyes distorted and went black for a moment, only to blaze again in the firelight. He could no longer move. He didn’t know where he was injured exactly, but he was sure that it wouldn't be long before it was finally over.

To his surprise, the men let him go.

"The boy is done for, he won't last much longer," one of them said. Slight disappointment in his voice.

"Yes, it's boring when he doesn't feel it anymore," said another.

A third bent down and slapped him. "Look, do you see the flames? That's what will happen to all you dirty blue bloods." He hit Leo across his face, but he barely felt it. The man's hate-filled gaze burned hotter than the fire at his back. "Enjoy dying."

With that, he straightened up and followed the others with Henri in tow.

Leo gasped for breath and looked up at the flames, dazed. Part of the facade crumbled and fell onto the gravel. A shadow appeared above him. Was it François? No, something was different.

"Rest easy, little prince. This is not the end."

The voice was soft and belonged to a man, but Leo couldn't understand much more.

He just blinked, felt himself being lifted, and a sharp pain shot through his body. Then it all went dark.

***

When he opened his eyes, all he saw was the bright moon up in the night sky. Was this the afterlife? He liked the moon. Slowly, the pain returned. No, only life could hurt this much.

He tried to turn his head. He felt cool grass caressing his broken body and saw the dark rose bushes to his sides. Had the stranger given up on bringing him to a doctor and instead taken him to a serene place to die?

He was afraid. More than ever before, but he also felt peace. Very soon he would see his family again and feel no more pain. After all, the last thing he saw was not the blazing grave of his family.

"Are you awake, little prince?" the soft voice asked. It sounded almost amused.

The man who had tried to save Leo was now kneeling beside him and looked down benevolently. His sight was blurry, but Leo recognized him as the man he had danced with a few hours earlier. He wanted to say something in response, but only groaned in pain.

"Shh, save your last ounce of strength."

Leo frowned in confusion. Even that hurt. The man stroked his cheek gently.

"I’m giving you a choice. You can go to sleep peacefully. I promise you won't feel any more pain." His fingertips moved to Leo's neck. "Or I'll give you a new life. One that will never end."

Leo felt his heart pounding valiantly against his chest. He didn't know what the man meant. But he knew he wanted to live.

"How do you decide? Do you want to live?"

With his last strength, Leo nodded and croaked a soft "yes".

A triumphant smile flashed across the man's beautiful face, and before Leo realized what was happening, he felt soft lips on his neck and a slight pain followed by a strange, barely tangible sensation. It was as if he were suddenly weightless. Slowly, he grew colder and colder, and his hands grasped for support in the man's coat, but he was too weak to reach for it.

The stranger released him, his lips now red and wet with Leo's blood.

Leo could feel his heart fighting, about to lose the battle.

Now the man bit into his own wrist and offered it to Leo.

"Drink and live." He pressed it gently to Leo's mouth and the warm blood found its way.