Claire
Clairewoketothesoft cooing of pigeons and the distant hum of Paris stirring to life beyond the cathedral walls. Morning light slipped through the narrow window, painting the room in gold.
A heavy arm draped across her chest, warm and protective, but not confining. She turned her head slowly to find Mirela fast asleep beside her. Her red hair fell in a tangled curtain over her face, hiding her features.
That wouldn’t do.
Claire brushed the strands away carefully, her fingers tracing the soft curve of her cheek. She wanted to see her. To memorize her face, every freckle, every scar. Later she’dtease her about cutting her hair short, just enough so she could always admire her without obstruction.
For now, she simply watched her breathing. It brought a comfort Claire hadn’t known she could feel. A peace that made the world outside fade into nothing.
Scars and all, Mirela was beautiful. It wasn’t just her face or her body, but the restrained, quiet strength, now unfurling. And Claire, to her surprise, found joy in being the one to help her discover it.
A faint melody from outside pulled her back. Her hand still rested gently on Mirela’s cheek, stroking softly until Mirela stirred and let out a small groan.
“Good morning,” Claire whispered, smiling as she leaned closer. “Did you sleep well? I didn’t take up too much space, did I?”
Mirela grinned, eyes half-open, before rolling onto her back and stretching her arms above her head.
“I’ll take that as a yes,” Claire teased.
“Better than expected,” Mirela murmured. Her voice was rough with sleep as she cupped Claire’s jaw and pulled her in for a slow kiss. Then Mirela suddenly froze, eyes flying open. “The bells!” she gasped. “I have to toll the bells!”
Claire blinked, startled, as Mirela scrambled to find her clothes. She dressed quickly, tugging on her blouse in a rush before darting toward the stairs.
“I’ll be right back!” she called over her shoulder, her voice echoing up the stone passage as she disappeared.
Claire sat there for a moment, smiling faintly, listening to Mirela’s footsteps fade into the distance until the sound of the first bell rang through the morning air.
The bells tolled again, loud and clear. Claire began to dress, gathering what little she had. The sounds of Paris filtered in with music, laughter, voices overlapping. Today, with The Festival of Fools taking place, the city felt more alive than ever. She wanted to be out there among it. Her parents never allowed her freedom even close to going to festivals.
The door opened suddenly. Mirela slipped inside, closing it quickly behind her as though protecting something precious. Her smile lit up the small room, and, for a heartbeat, Claire forgot about everything else.
“Are you hungry?” Mirela asked, touching her waist and looking around her. “I don’t have much to offer,” Mirela said shyly. “Food, or anything really… I could—“
“Would you come out with me?” Claire interrupted, her voice bright with hope. “To the streets? The Festival of Fools is happening outside. We could get something to eat there.”
Mirela froze. Her gaze drifted toward the narrow window, where the sunlight poured in. Her lips pressed into a thin line as she drew a shaky breath. “I…”
“I’ll keep you safe,” Claire said quickly. “Yesterday you went out, and—“
“It was nighttime,” Mirela whispered. “There were people outside but not so many…”
“Yes! But you’ve already seen how it is.” Claire reached for her hands, giving them a reassuring squeeze. “Let’s try the day, Mirela. Please. I promise it’s not as frightening.”
Mirela took a deep breath and shook her head. “Ferron…He—“
“Ferron doesn’t get to decide what’s safe anymore.”
“But they’ll see me,” Mirela murmured, trying gently to pull away.
Claire didn’t let go. She held on, steady but tender, meeting her eyes. She didn’t rush her. She simply waited—knowing that if Mirela chose to stay, she would still try again tomorrow, and the next day, until fear no longer won.
Finally, Mirela exhaled, her shoulders softening. “Alright,” she said at last. “As long as it’s with you, I don’t think anything bad can happen.”
“Yes!” Claire squealed, her relief bubbling into laughter as she threw her arms around Mirela and pressed a quick kiss to her lips. “Would you feel better if you covered up a little? Would that make you feel safer?”
Mirela nodded, her smile small but certain. “Yes. A lot.”
