XXII

He walked nervous in the gardens of the building, looking for new strategies, reflecting on what they had wrong and where they hadn't looked for.

Where was his future bride?

He would have hung those bastards or killed them with his sword.

He knew there was definitely a little bit of what the people called ChatNoir, the one who robbed him. He took the princess, too. His princess. He would never forgive him.

He hoped with all his heart that they hadn't touched or treated like a brothel woman, as he imagined they were used to. He squeezed his fists.

He couldn't leave her for long in that agony. He would have saved her no matter what.

They'd searched the woods around the village, they'd gone down the road that the carriage had gone down, all over Paris, the royal guards had checked every hole or sewer. No sign of her.

Yet they couldn't have been floated.

The king was furious than unhappy, the queen spent her time praying for her child's soul and purity.

Luka realized he had to do more.

He spent time with Amélie before he retired to Margò's office to talk about the health of the child and other kids in that complex. The money wasn't enough for medical care.

With that weight on his heart, he decided to stop there for lunch to spend time with Felix and the others before he went back to the inn.

He would have given his share of the loot, too.

As soon as he came in, he realized Coline's absence and was very grateful.

He approached the bar. He was so beaten. Everything he did wasn't enough. He couldn't help Amélie. Her lungs weren't strong enough and they would never be miraculous.

To hell with everything.

Why wasn't that enough? Why was he never up to the situation?

He was never enough.

<< The usual? >> Asked Mrs Bernard.

<< Yes, please. >> He tried to smile at her, but it was just impossible that it was the sadness and the crap he felt.

<< What happened? >> she asked with concern while she poured whiskey in front of the boy.

<< Amélie got worse. >> He spoke to her because he knew she could understand him. She had a sick daughter, too.

<< I'm sorry, can't you do anything? Not even with any more money? >>

He ran out of substance in the glass and asked for more.

<< The thing is, we should stay still for a while. It's been a big mess about this princess thing.>> He low the voice even more.

<< But if you give her back, you can go back to work as usual. >>

He drank it all out of breath again.

She made it easy. He didn't want to bring Antoinette back.

He didn't answer and the woman realized that the conversation was continuing in her head and that she'd better leave the bottle there and go serve the other customers.

Bringing her back... that's nonsense.

But that's how he was putting too many, too many lifes at risk, for his loving whims. The boys who stole with him did it for their families, needed some extra burglary, and if they had to be careful about the real and be more controlled and hunted than usual, they couldn't do anything. He couldn't do anything to get more money to the orphanage. Amélie wouldn't have made it next spring.

Felix wouldn't have had his princess.

He poured another glass. It ended in two times.

What would he have told to Agnés? That she couldn't save her sister because she wanted to keep living her honeymoon with the princess?

Princess.

What was he doing with a princess?

He still drank.

Nothing. Absolutely nothing.

Only their bodies were so well-framed... their souls were intertwining in a wonderful dance and not to mention their hearts, which they discovered, beat the same melody.

He threw another glass down before he got out of the stool and, with the neck of the squeezed bottle in his hand, he headed to his room. Even down the stairs, he attached to this one to take a long sip.

He realized the door wasn't locked. Very strange. In fact, maybe not, he just forgot himself to close it.

When he opened it, he was blocked. He almost didn't drop the bottle off.

How could both of them be there?

He didn't even know each other.

<< Surprise. >> said Agnés raised her arm and let herself see herself completely naked.

<< Come to us. >> Said Suadent Coline. She's naked, too.

How could he get out of that situation?

They were both lying on his bed, with the blankets that didn't cover anything, their legs were overlapped and, lying on a side, watching themself to provoke him.

It was absolutely nonsense. It was too much.

He had Antoinette waiting for him.

His princess.

He even asked her to marry him and run away together. He couldn't do this to her, she trusted him, and he promised her no more escapes.

Just her. It was just her.

Yeah, but how long would she have lasted? There were so many problems between them that even thinking about the next day was difficult.

She was the fucking princess of France, promised to a prince who was looking for her long and wide, who wanted to cut off his head, she hesitated thinking about her royal duties. Part of her would always have wanted to go back to that castle, away from him.

What about him?

He needed to let her go to help all those people who believed and trusted him.

He drank a lot until he had no breath.

His head was confused. It was wrong to give in to that temptation. In deep she satisfied him more than an area of promiscuous women at his feet.

He thought, he thought, he was being an idiot for just thinking about it. He just had to get out of there.

But when it would happen to him this type of occasion? Never again. He didn't even know how this could happen now.

And then she wouldn't come to find out, right?

No, what the fuck was he talking about? He shouldn't have even thought about it.

He loved her. She was the woman in his life.

At that moment, seeing the boy's stall, the two of them started to rub each other and touch their lips. Countinuing watching him.

He felt the lower belly stabbing. It wasn't fair.

In a Paris that had just lived, torn apart by poverty, what was happening in front of him seemed pure fiction. He felt like he never really wanted a woman so much, like he was always deceived by feelings he couldn't give hiself, but that they gave him the illusion that they could really be carried forward and that they gave him emotions to take away the breath from him, just for the purpose of choking him.

It was all a farce. They would never really dance on the melody of their hearts, even though she told him her secrets, even though they shared some. Their story was rambling in the dark, for unknown paths, where dreams were not enough.

And it was true, he would run away with her, take her away, where the air only had its perfume and that was all he needed to breathe, where there was no danger and there was no need to toil for staying together.

Now he was here, wanting to be among other women, not to feel wrong and to be free to fail, without guilt to stop him.

How many times did he failed in his life? And why was he so different now?

He didn't feel lucky to have her. Why? Why did he see she as a curse now? Between the fear of losing her and the libidity of having her, he talked about thoughts only she could spank from his mouth. What if it was bad?

He still drank. Then he took several steps to the bed.

Would he really have done it? Even if he could lose everything?

Or would he have left with her leaving his world unsolved?

Now he was too destroyed to think about dreams where the air had her perfume and his breath was less important.