“You are Adam’s soul mate, are you not? His other half? You’ll go where he goes.” Sin stared at her. “Or do you believe that was all Mab’s nonsense?”
Eliza sagged against the arm of her couch. “He let me go,” she said helplessly. “What is to say he even believes in us?”
“Or maybe he let you go because he loved you too much to ask you to leave this life behind?”
“That ought to have been my decision, if that were so.”
“Then there’s naught for it,” Sin said decidedly. “Make the decision now. Do you love him enough to risk everything?”
Lucien was reading a book when Eliza arrived. The sight of him, sitting in a reading chair, a pair of spectacles perched on his perfectly shaped nose, was so incongruous with how he usually presented himself to the world that Eliza stopped short.
As for Lucien, he closed the book with a muted thud of the pages and set it aside. His smile was genuine if not sad as he took off his glasses and stood. “This is a nice surprise, ma chère.”
“I hope I have not intruded upon your quiet time.” Eliza took another step farther into the room, near the drinks table placed against the wall.
“Hardly,” he said with a slight wave of his hand. “And I shall always be here for you, my lady.”
She wasn’t a lady. But she supposed he was trying to be kind.
“What brings you here, Eliza?” The rare use of her name was soft and searching. He must have known she wanted to speak of Adam.
“I wanted to ask you a question.”
“Only one?” His full lips curled. “How rare.”
“Well, perhaps a few more than that.” She gestured toward the drink. “Might I have a drink with you?”
“But of course. Let me —” He moved to come pour her a drink, and Eliza waved him off.
“I’ll get it.” Eliza selected a crystal glass and, turning her back on him, filled it. Her hand shook only a little when she made her way over to him.
Lucien had pulled out his favored chair – the very damned chair that she’d made love with Adam on – and another for her. She ground her teeth together and accepted a seat, waiting for him to sit upon the chair that she could barely look at anymore.
“So then,” he said picking up his own half-filled glass. Deep amber liquid swirled about there. Brandy perhaps. He took a sip, then gave her an expectant look. “You have questions. I hope I have the answers, my lady.”
As did she.
“You know,” she said in a low voice, “I am not a lady.”
Lucien gave a lazy smile. “Ah, but you are, for you are Adam’s queen.”
Eliza snorted, a most unladylike sound. “If that were so, I’d be with him.”
“You speak of geography,” Lucien answered easily. “I speak of the heart.”
Her own heart quickened at that. She tapped the hope down. “What is his realm like?”
Lucien’s glass froze halfway to his lips. Carefully, he set it back down. “Just as it is here. Call it an alternate version of our world. Only the ghosts you see there – and you, mon amie, will see them – are the souls of the people who live here.”
“Is he all alone then? Without friends?” Her heart ached at the thought.
“Not entirely. Any GIM may travel there. He need only give permission. He hasn’t in the past.” Something like sorrow rested in Lucien’s pale green eyes. But he blinked it away. “Do not fret, amie. It is not a horrible place.”
“Hmm.” Eliza toyed with the stem of her glass. Part of her wanted to fling it across the room and leave this barge. But she’d never outrun her need for Adam. He was part of her, and she was soul-sick without him. “And his home? Has he a place of comfort?”
Oddly, she could not picture Adam in a home. Nor a castle. She could not picture him anywhere but at her side. Whether driving her mad with irritation or out of her head with lust.
Lucien began to chuckle, the sound grating. Gods, had he guessed her thoughts?
Eliza’s face heated as he continued to laugh. “I’d like to know what you find so amusing.”
“It is Adam.” Lucien waved an idle hand, sending the cascade of lace at his sleeve swaying. “He has his little jokes, and I find they amuse me greatly at the moment.”
Eliza scowled. “Have you taken leave of your senses?”
“Oh, how I wish to do just that one day.” Lucien straightened his expression. “The fact is, chère amie, that in his realm, this barge is Adam’s.” One long, tanned finger tapped upon the pearl-inlaid chair. “This chair is his chair.”
“So… if we were to go there at this moment,” Eliza worked out slowly, “we’d find him in this barge?”
“Just so.”
Eliza could not quite wrap her head around it, but she trusted Lucien. Sitting back, she picked up her wine glass. Her heart began to pound a frantic, fearful rhythm. She was afraid. Utterly. How could she not be? Her fingers turned to ice, a fine, slick sweat breaking out over her skin.
Lucien frowned as if just noticing her terror. “Chère…”
Eliza’s hands trembled, sloshing the ruby red liquid about in her glass. Mustn’t spill a drop. She gave Lucien a wobbly smile, as if she were not about to be ill. “Thank you, Lucien. Your information was most helpful and makes this much easier.”