Montague Von Vexx's Arc

Chapter 4 of 11

Before Montague could say the name, the heavy oak doors swung inward. Wisteria stood at the threshold in a dark red dress, one hand still on the carved wood. She did not step in. She waited, eyes moving from the journal on the table to Alastair's white knuckles on the hearth. "I heard the window," she said. "From the courtyard. I came up." Her voice was quiet, even. "If you want me to go, I will go." Montague looked at the red velvet chair near the fire. No one had pulled it close. No one had set it back. It simply sat there, empty, waiting to be claimed or refused. He felt the choice settle in his chest like a stone. Alastair had chosen him in the dark for two hundred years. He could choose Alastair's wife now, in the light. "Come in," Montague said. "Sit. What I'm about to tell him, you should hear too." Alastair's head turned slowly. He did not argue. He only nodded once, and the small motion felt like a door opening wider than the one behind her. Wisteria crossed the rug and sat in the red chair, her hands folded on the journal's edge. Montague drew a breath. The flute lay cold in his palm now, silent. He opened the leather cover himself, before his courage could fail, and began to read aloud the first line he had written two centuries ago.