But tonight – my Bloodeve – it feels right to be here, with him.
With my arm in Gideon’s, the City of Light warms my cold veins once more. I remember the hope I felt when I first arrived with nothing but my two best dresses, the glittering collar hidden beneath my coat, and a heart cold with vengeance. I may be relatively new to immortality, but I’d already come to feel as though I’d drunk this city dry, until I saw it tonight through his eyes.
Gideon meanders all over Montmartre, stopping to sniff summer blooms or to throw coins at the street performers. He buys me candied fruits from one seller, andcafé au laitfrom another, both of which I toss in the Seine when his back is turned. He talks to everyone – theinsoumisesworking in Rue Pigalle, the bohemians wafting merrily between cafes like leaves on the breeze, the footmen waiting by their carriages for their masters to finish in the brothels.
“You’re so cold.” Gideon wraps his coat around my shoulders, drawing me against him as we wander down yet another avenue.
“That’s because I have no heart.”
“I don’t believe that. If you were heartless, you wouldn’t have let me kneel for you. Come on!” He drags me forward, laughing. “We don’t want to be late.”
“Late for what?”
Gideon passes under a carved archway depicting cherubic angels, and into a wide grassed courtyard where a large contraption is tethered, bobbing gently in the breeze.
I stare up at it, confounded.
“It’s a hot air balloon.” Gideon drags me towards the wicker basket suspended beneath a large orange balloon. “When this envelope is inflated, it will fly us high above the city.”
I struggle to form words. “But…why?”
“Because it’s fun.” He tugs my arm. “Haven’t you ever wanted to fly?”
“Not really, no. I’m rather enamoured with the ground.”
“It’s perfectly safe. Consider it a birthday present.”
“Your witty and learned arguments have filled me with assurance. I’mnotflying in a picnic basket beneath a glorified carbuncle.” I jab a finger towards the midnight sky. “Up there is the gravity.”
“Technically, gravity isn’t up there. It’s—”
“I know what gravity is! Take me back to La Petite Mort this instant.”
Gideon flashes me that cheeky grin. “Arabella Macquart isn’t afraid, is she?”
If he thinks he knows how to get to me… he’s right, damn him.
I fold my arms and glare at him as I step gingerly towards the contraption. A shadow darts in the garden behind the balloon, but I’m too distracted by my terror to discern it.
Probably just a stray cat hoping for a scrap of food.
Gideon’s smile turns wicked as he reaches down to help me up. There is a small set of wooden steps placed next to the basket, enabling passengers (also known as “those who wish for death”) to easily board the sky pufferfish.
Gideon’s hand on my arm steadies me as I clamber up the narrow steps. “I swear it will be fun. Wait until you meet our aeronaut.”
It’s then that I realise there are three people already standing inside the basket. Two men and a woman. The woman waves cheerily at us and calls Gideon’s name. She looks familiar.
“That’s…”
My mouth falls open as the pilot beams down at me, golden curls tumbling from beneath her leather beret.
“You must be Arabella Macquart. I’m Sarah Bernhardt.” The infamous actress extends an elegant gloved hand. “I’m so pleased to make your acquaintance. Giddy has told me so much about you. He’s positively sung an aria to your flawless skin.”
“Giddy?” I grin at Gideon. “Oh, thank you, Sarah, for this benevolent gift. I’m pleasedGiddyintroduced us.”
“Wow, time goes so fast when you’re being pushed out of a hot air balloon.” Gideon hops up beside the greatest actress who has ever lived and extends his hand to me. “Are you coming?”
I take his hand.
