81 | ACT V, SCENE VIII

P R E V I O U S L Y

"It was in the Louvre."

"In the Louvre."

"The Louvre."

HARTINGTON CASTLE, ALNWICK, STORMHOLT.

EDWINA

"EDWINA. EDWINA, WOMAN, DAMN IT! Open your eyes!" a silk voice assaulted my senses, snapping me back to reality. I came to suddenly, head spinning, sweating buckets, to find myself holding a white hand. The knuckles were bleeding and raw from scratch marks where I had raked my nails over the skin, and I looked up, horrified, to find the hand belonging to Tristan, his eyes dark with worry and concern.

"I'm sorry, I'm so-"

"-shh," he silenced me with a finger to my lips, and pulled me into his embrace, wrapping his hands around my still shaking body. I could not believe what I had just seen, what I had just experienced.

I had lived in another life.

I had been dying in another life.

"Tell me," he said softly, pulling me back to wipe the sweat beading on my brow, "what have you seen? What did they do to you?"

I noticed Amphitrite standing in a corner, eyes contrite, Eric with his arms crossed, face sorrowful. And then my father, who looked at me with steady eyes observing my every move, but even his face had turned whiter than a sheet.

"I did it for you," he pleaded, taking a step closer to me. I held out a firm hand to stop him, my blood boiling.

"Don't. Don't you fucking touch me."

"Edwina," Tristan pleaded urgently in my ear. "You're scaring the daylights out of me."

I was still shaking, my mind reeling, as everything slowly began to sink in. This was the reason. The Rotavelles wanted me dead so badly. There was a reason. They had been trying for so long. I had been missing for ten days after my Trials, they had been trying to kill me in that time. They could not find me. Because I was... dying. In the mortal world.

"Tremayne. Valmont. Tremont," I croaked, almost giggling. Why did everything bad always happen to me? A magnet for disaster, that was what I was.

I just wondered how drunk the gods had been when they wrote out my destiny.

"Hey - please. Try to understand," my father began, but my grip around Hellfyre tightened, knuckles whitening, making me stop. In a way, it made me laugh. Hysterically. Tremayne. Valmont.

Tremont.

"You always intended to get me married to him, didn't you?" my voice was sharp and callous and tinged with bitterness, I could hardly contain the mockery dripping from every word.

"Edwina - I - please... you were the only one fit for marrying such a powerful god - I need you to be alive for that to happen-"

"Are you going to tell me what is fucking going on?" Tristan tugged at me with a hiss. I pulled his hand into mine and looked him in the dark blue eye. His alluring face had gone white, but his eyes scrutinised me carefully, trying to make out what was going on.

"I was a dying woman, Valmont," I spat. "I was a dying woman in the mortal world. My father put me there for the ten days between my Trials and the visit to Steffith for the declaration ceremony."

"What?" his hand went to Aetherius, a knife flicked in his hands.

"I was put there. So that I'd be away from Emerick's little bastards."

"Dying? What do you mean as in dying?" he questioned, now worried.

"I had a heart condition. The only ones who could cure me were them-" I pointed a shaking finger to the three and his eyes turned pitch black.

"You evil scum-"

"-please, sister, try to understand," Amphitrite professed, "try to see it from father's perspective - he was just trying to protect you-"

"-protect me, yes-" I spat, my words bitter and hot, "protect me enough to have me dying. Could you not have just kept me there, instead of turning me into a fucking time bomb-"

"-we had to make you come with us, Edwina, please, try to understand," my father reasoned, his eyes contrite. "If you didn't come willingly-"

"-there was no need to take my memories away in the first place!" I shouted, anger welling up in me. "You could have let me know who I was. I would have gladly lived there as Edwina Tremayne. Not Edna Tremont!"

"We didn't know how it worked," my father muttered repentantly, "we didn't know that her memories would disappear like that. We asked Cosmo for help, he was only able to give us his rings. He wasn't too sure about how it worked either."

"Aidon," I snarled. "You told Aidon? Did he know where I was?"

"We didn't-" my father put up his hands.

"You did - he knew-" I snapped at him. "He knows. I know your little secret, he told me."

"We hadn't told him," Eric said quietly. "I think he found out by accident."

"I - I think so too... he kept on asking me everyday where you had gone - I think he found out after a while," Amphitrite confessed, eyes swimming with tears, now her head bent in shame as I looked at her critically.

Suddenly, everything clicked and I gasped as it fell in place.

Aidon had found out by mistake - found out that I'd been in the mortal world. And he was after the cube too. He was after completing it as well, and if he was, it could mean only one thing...

He had been looking for the second piece.

He had been looking for it in the Louvre.

And he let that vital piece of information slip by mistake.

"It's in the Louvre. We have to go and get it before Aidon escapes and tries to find it again."

"Who is a Louvre?" Tristan interrupted, eyes wide.

"The Louvre, damn it. It's an art museum! In the mortal world-"

"-you mean to say that-" Eric's voice turned soft and incredulous, unable to believe what he was hearing.

"Yes."

"You mean to say that that's where the second piece of the Logogram is?" Tristan gasped, running a hand through his ruffled hair in bewilderment, noting the firm nod of my head. "The second piece - in the mortal world - it's in the Louvre?"

"What are you talking about? What Cube?" Amphitrite looked at me with confused eyes. I did not care to answer her, leaving the task to Eric to explain it to her and my father.

"Do you - do you know where this museum is?" Tristan asked, quiet. "Can you take us there?"

Thanks to living in the mortal world all those years when I had been human, I could.

"Yes."

"Where is Aidon?" I took Tristan's hand, looking in right in the eye. His jaw hardened, gaze turning a deep black before he finally answered.

"He is in my dungeons," he said at last.

"Is he..." my voice trailed off, heavy with concern.

"Unlike the others, I haven't hurt him... not yet. I stunned him with my Thunderbolt. He won't wake up before the Trial for all of them takes place in another week."

I let out a breath I didn't even know I had been holding, a sigh of relief. He hadn't hurt him, he hadn't killed him...

"The only reason that bastard is still alive is because he is your brother," he said in a low growl. "I know you would want to speak to him first - to look in his eyes and ask him why he did this."

Our gazes locked, and I saw his love and trust for me shining deep in his eyes.

"Thank you," I breathed. He gave me a nod before silently taking my face in his palms and pressing a soft kiss on my warm lips. I could feel the heat rise in my cheeks, setting alight the memories of last night.

'I swear it, Valmont, if you make me horny right now, you're so done.'

'Well, I do have to pay you back for those sweet hickeys,' he chuckled and looked at me smugly.

"Well then," Eric finally interrupted, "if we need to go to the mortal world and find the second piece now..." he gave me a nonchalant look. "We need to move."

"Right," Tristan drew himself up, rolling his sleeves. "Where can we find Cosmo's rings?" he demanded, eyes flashing.

My father pulled out an enameled box from his pocket, opening it carefully to reveal the three powerful rings nestled in the folds of velvet.

The first was bronze, engraved with blood rubies. To get to Seattoria.

The second was platinum, inlaid with pearls. To get back to Endollon.

The third was gold, adorned with emeralds. To get to the mortal world.

"You stay here," I told my father. He raised an eyebrow and glared at me.

"I'm coming with you."

"The time frames between the worlds have always moved erratically. If something happens before we come back, we need you to stay here," Tristan cut him off smoothly.

I squeezed my husband's hand gratefully, and he pulled me closer as my father finally nodded.

I saw Eric hold Amphitrite's hand, who grasped Tristan's hand. He merely tugged me closer to his warmth as I picked up the gold ring and placed the box in a hidden pocket in my sleeves.

It was time to go back home.

I slid the gold ring down my finger with trembling hands.

And before I knew it, we were gone in a whirl of darkness and mist, disappearing into nothing.

• • • • •

ONE FIFTH AVENUE, NEW YORK CITY, THE U.S.

AMPHITRITE

The howling in my ears stopped all of a sudden and I opened my eyes hesitantly, clinging to Eric.

We were in the apartment again.

Our hands broke apart and I saw Edwina take off the gold ring, dropping onto a coffee table and looking around her with interest. Her blue green eyes shone with something unnatural as she took in the surroundings. The penthouse was still exquisitely furnished, the antique furniture tastefully arranged the way it had been the last time. The window glowed with the orange light of dusk, and I heard strange honks outside.

"Eric," I whispered slowly to him. "How many years have passed here since we took her back to Endollon?"

He scratched his head and muttered something unintelligible, dropping to a couch and examining the coffee table.

"I'm... not sure. The time frames between the worlds always moved strangely. And when Cosmo, the god of time died, I'm sure the difference got even more erratic. I - I wouldn't be surprised if at least more than twenty years passed."

"-woman?" Tristan hissed, looking lost as he tentatively picked up a tiny rectangular object lying on a nearby chair. "What's this?"

Edwina had been frantically sheafing through sheets of paper stacked on a rosewood desk, eyes wide and interested. She looked up.

"That's a phone. A mobile phone. Wait - how - oh my god - it's my phone - it's still here! Someone's been taking care of this duplex for me!" she exclaimed, grabbing the thing from both of us and shaking it. She pressed a button and something lit up on the screen.

"It's glowing!" he observed, fascinated, and she raised an eyebrow, amused.

"Oh course it's glowing, Valmont, it's a phone."

"A - a phone?" he asked innocently, bewildered as we all looked at her blankly.

"Oh, come on!" Edwina rolled her eyes. "You use it to talk to people and send them messages." She let loose a string of curse words under her breath, furiously typing something on that strange little screen.

"What in the name of Uranus is Witlock?" Tristan muttered, shaking his head.

"It's a code breaking organisation. To intercept enemy messages and increase national security-"

"You worked for it?"

"No," she sighed. "I founded it."

All three of our jaws dropped.

She only raised her eyebrows and then looked at the phone with a short sigh, then flung it onto the carpet. Tristan caught it just in time, amazed, turning it over in his hands like a child who just received a new toy.

Edwina briskly opened the door as if she had just remembered something, walking out to the corridor. All three of us peeped out to see what was going on as she purposefully strode down and knocked thrice on a gold knocker outside a mahogany door.

"Vienna?" she shouted. "Open the door, Vienna!"

A scuffle and three barks later, the door was opened by a blond haired woman probably in her late forties, her heavily pencilled eyebrows threatening to disappear up her hair. A lavender haired poodle wrapped around her ankles with a yelp, staring longingly.

"Edna?" she cried, paling. "Where the fuck have you been?" she began to shout, immediately silenced by Edwina who clamped a hand over her mouth and looked right into her eyes, using her power.

"It's alright. You will forget. Now," she said, her voice softer, lifting her hand. The terrified woman had tears in her eyes and she shook silently, weeping into my sister's neck.

"I - I thought I saw a ghost - they kept on saying your place was haunted -"

"Vienna," Edwina gently wiped the tear away. "Can you tell me how long it's been since the last time they saw me?"

"-twenty years," the other stammered, her sobs loud and hoarse. "The last time anyone saw you - me - it was when you came home from Lenox Hill that night - no one saw you after that - they think you're dead! No one found the body - they never let anyone stay there - believed it was haunted. I wa-watched over your suite for you - she isn't dead, I told them, my friend can't be dead. Edna must be living undercover, I told the police. Nerissa dusts your apartment everyday, I water your plants. I believed you'd come back - now I'm seeing a ghost - gosh - I'm hallucinating!"

"Shhh, hey, it's alright," my sister cooed, rubbing Vienna's back and looking right in the eye. "You will forget this traumatic experience, honey. You didn't see any ghost. You didn't see Edna today. You're living happily. If someone sees a light in my apartment, it's because Nerissa is dusting. Is it clear?"

The blonde woman looked at her blankly, and her voice came out thick and trusting.

"I understand."

"Good. Now go, walk your new poodle, she's getting bored."

"Okay?" Vienna muttered, obligingly walking to the elevator with the leash as the dog yipped at her heels. Edwina came back and slammed the door.

"Shoddy work," she snapped. "Didn't you atleast remove their memories of me after bringing me back? That woman was my friend!"

"Look," Eric said soothingly. "You were just supposed to be an orphan."

"With nothing," I added. "But then you just had to go and put that brain of yours to use..."

"And now every goddamn person with access to a newspaper knows me," she let out another hiss, wrapping her arms around her husband, who was very curiously toying with the phone, oblivious to our argument.

"You need to teach me how to use this receptacle of black magic," he muttered, rubbing his chin thoughtfully.

"I will," she grinned at him, then looked out of the window. Then she looked back at me with a cold scowl, her eyes distant and angry. "If we're going to the Louvre," she bit out, "we need to get dressed."

She dug around a drawer, coming up with a huge stack of printed bills, nearly two inches thick.

You two," she told Eric and Tristan, "Lacoste is just around the corner. Both of you, get the most expensive suits you can find. And try not to kill anyone on the way."

"But where-"

"No buts. You can't walk into an art museum of Paris like this," she ushered.

"But-"

"You both are the rulers of a god awfully large country, and you're telling me you can't find a clothes shop within a hundred metre perimeter?"

"No, we are not," Tristan scoffed proudly. "Come on," he dragged Eric with him.

"You," her voice was as sharp as glass, "come with me."

Without waiting for my reply, she turned around and began walking to another room, her stride purposeful. I tearfully drudged behind her with a heavy heart as she led the way to another room.

There was a huge walk-in closet on one side, lined with dozens and dozens of dresses, tons of boots and heels, handbags. Boxes full of strings of pearls and diamonds shone brightly in a gilded mirror. The whiff of expensive silk and leather hung in the air as I looked around aimlessly while she shuffled through the racks.

"Here, this one should fit," Edwina said at last, pulling out a dress from a nearby garment bag. It was a sky blue piece of silk, sleeveless and embroidered with white roses.

My jaw fell open as I hesitantly took off my heels and took the dress.

"That's... beautiful," I said quietly, giving her a small smile.

Yet I saw nothing but disdain written all over her face.

I could only hold back my tears as I disappeared behind a screen, pulling at the strings of my gown and sliding it off. She would never forgive me. A few tears rolled down my cheeks as I pulled up the dress and fixed it in place, then slumped down to the floor.

I wished I could take it back.

I wished I could take it all back - all those things I had said to her, all those things I had done. How badly I had treated her. This silent treatment seemed like nothing compared to all those terrible things I had done.

I hastily wiped off my tears and stepped out to find Edwina stripping down to her underwear.

"Shoes," she said pointedly, looking me up and down and gesturing to a pile of shoe boxes. I nodded timidly and rummaged through boxes till I found an embroidered pair of satin white heels.

I turned to find Edwina in a dusted gold dress with ivory pearls.

She swept back her fiery red hair and strung a set of pearls around her neck before putting on a pair of cream pumps.

Just then, I heard someone ring the doorbell.

"I'll go get it," I said at once. She did not as much as nod at me, only went on pulling out drawers until she found a bottle of jet black eyeliner.

I walked out and opened the door.

"Anyone home?" Eric winked, dressed in a dark grey suit that made my heart race wildly, crisp and ironed and clinging to his perfect body.

"Hello," I said sadly, as he put his arms around me, concerned.

"You okay?" he murmured. "Did she say anything to you?"

"She said nothing," I said quietly, as Tristan entered behind Eric. He was dressed in a black suit with a dark blue shirt, the top button open, a pocket square tucked in. His eyes lit up like a child's when he saw his wife running around the room, looking breathtaking in her dress.

"I want to take you to art museums and kiss you in the moonlight," he whispered. She turned around, her mouth dropping in an 'o' as he slid his arms around her waist and pinned her to the wall, hitching her legs up and kissing her.

"Don't touch the masterpieces," she responded with equal fervour, wrapping her arms around him and tugging at his silk hair.

"Someone's got to pin the artwork to the wall," he smirked with a wink, licking his lips.

"Valmont, you smooth fucker," Edwina let out a rich laugh and pecked him on the cheek before turning and hopping back to her phone. "Now, getting into the Louvre tonight is going to be exceptionally difficult."

"How so?" Eric asked.

"It's a Tuesday. The Museum is closed on Tuesdays. But I have my contacts, I suppose. Come," she said, finally leading us out of the door.

• • • • •

RUE DE RIVOLI, PARIS, FRANCE.

"It was eight in the evening in Manhattan. Means it's likely around two in the morning here," Edwina explained briefly. "These are the Tuileries Gardens."

"It's two in the morning. How the hell will they let us in?" Eric asked quietly.

"The guards must still be on duty. I'll speak to them," she muttered, linking her arms with Tristan and starting to make way to the museum standing at the distance.

Paris was truly beautiful, twinkling at night with all its lights, splendid and glorious. A light breeze was blowing, the sky was black, the Eiffel Tower shined in the distance as we made our way to the Le Pyramide entrance. Uniformed officers stood at regular intervals as she'd point out a few attractions from time to time. According to my sister, it would have taken nearly two hours in line by day to get in.

"Halt."

The voice came to us as an armed military guard and his comrades surrounded us. She held out a hand for everyone to stop.

"Yes?" she asked sharply, a voice heavy with authority.

"Visitors are not permitted to the Museum after dark, especially on a Tuesday. How did you get into the grounds? Entry is restricted."

"I need the whereabouts of the curator of the Museum," Edwina said briskly. The stern faced officer nodded to his company who flared out around us, guns pointed, handcuffs at the ready.

"You will need to accompany us, madam. This is highly unusual and absolutely forbidden-"

"-is it now?" she laughed, stepping into the light finally and showing them her face.

The first one to react ran away screaming.

The head guard tried to maintain his composure as beads of sweat violently broke out on his forehead, lips moving incoherently.

"M - miss - Tre - Miss Tremont," he stuttered.

"It's a ghost, see, I told you, they kept on saying she haunted the apartment-"

"God - god save - save us-"

"I'm not a ghost," Edwina said firmly, pulling a strange object out of her pocket. All their eyes widened and they stepped back at once, fumbling.

"The hell is this now?" Tristan hissed in her ear.

"A revolver. Stand down," she said firmly, raising ut high up in the air.

"It's a ghost - the ghost of Edna Tremont-"

"-I can assure you I'm not a ghost, officer," I asserted, moving us out of the way. "Step back."

The lock clicked and she pulled the trigger, firing a silver bullet straight into the air.

"Now that I've proved I'm not a ghost, can we move on? I believe I have asked you to escort me to the curator of the museum."

"Please, miss Tremont, you cannot."

"I can. Perhaps you'd like to give me your names?"

A moment of tense silence passed. Finally, the officer relented.

"The head curator is still awake and working in his study. If you would please follow me, miss Tremont?"

"Excellent," she smiled sweetly, gesturing to the others triumphantly to follow. Tristan shot her an admiring grin as we walked, now examining the revolver with interest. He clicked - nothing happened.

"You need to reload it, Valmont," Edwina laughed as we walked up a flight of stairs through a side entrance.

She needed to ask the curator if he'd seen Aidon.

Where he'd seen Aidon.

Because that must have been where he'd have been looking for the second piece of the Logogram.

"In you go," the stern faced officer slowly relented. "You are requested to hand over your weapon, miss Tremont."

She placed the revolver in his hand as the fellow opened the door and beckoned us in.

We stepped in and the door closed.

It was a tasteful office, elegant and classic. Velvet drapes shimmered everywhere, the walls adorned with Botticelli and Michelangelo. An ancient grandfather clock ticked, showing two thirty in the morning, and crystal sandglasses sat on the desk. The chandelier twinkled brightly as I saw the back of a silver haired man sitting in a straight backed leather chair.

He turned the chair around at the sound of our footsteps.

All four of us turned white, letting out a shocked gasp.

The curator was Cosmo.

• • • • •

Don't know if many of you still think of this clever old chap after he died... but you do remember the time I said he might make a cameo, yes? Speaking of which, how many of you remember Vienna? The woman with the poodles??

Seeing them all after a long time feels like seeing old friends xD btw any idea how Cosmo ended up in the Louvre? And what is he doing there? And anyone waiting for Titania to show up? You're gonna get em answers next time!! Until then, stay golden ❤

Btw... see, I'm not defending Amphitrite. What she did to Edwina was unforgivable. But I understand her grief, and it's justified. She did make a mistake, she was mislead. And she refused to see reason. But we all need to know that she's repenting what she did, so that's why I had to put part of the chapter from her point of view. But don't worry, Edwina isn't forgiving her anytime soon.

Not to forget, Edwina's surname in the mortal world wasn't a coincidence. Tremont is a combination of Tremayne and Valmont, and yes - I slipped it in to foreshadow her marriage.

Also, Tristan exploring modern devices is so cute I could watch him all day xx