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The words slipped from his lips, and he wished he could take them back the moment he spoke them. "How did I almost lose you?" Barely above a breath, but she heard him.
She looked at him with her rich brown eyes, the gaze upon which he floated, the gaze upon which he rose, the gaze from which he had defined himself from the moment they met.
She smiled tenderly. "It was no one thing, Robert," she said, "but we have lost so many friends." For a moment, she closed her eyes, and tears dusted her lashes. He snuggled her in his arms and brushed her forehead with his lips.
"It was Fitz," she said finally. "He and Duncan were there when we first met. They came to our hundredth, and two hundredth weddings. And now he is gone. It was...." She opened her eyes and met his gaze solemnly. "It was as a foundation stone lost from us. From me. But it was not only him."
For a moment, they both closed their eyes, and a litany of names ran through them. Rebecca, May Ling, Caroline, Sean....
"Damon Case," Robert said, suddenly.
"What?" Gina said in surprise.
"Our invitation came back with a notification that he... that he had not renewed his mail drop recently."
No more tersely worded refusals to come to a capricious party demeaning the sanctity of the Game.
Gina took a breath, held it a moment, and then said, "Mako is gone, too." He, like Case, had always refused to come to their weddings, but not so tersely. He was always too busy, and for the second wedding, had reminded them of how the breakdown of law in Paris had nearly cost Robert his head at the first.
This train of thought led to another. They drowned in each other's eyes for a moment. Claude Devereux, their tall, looming, beloved student.
They had encountered him, a young musician in the court of Louise XVI, and known he was another Immortal. It was not his time, and they enjoyed every opportunity to hear him play. And so, on October 5th, 1789, they heard what was happening, and joined the angry crowd going to Versailles. They had sent messages to the Marquis de Lafayette, warning him that the king was in danger. They could not tell him of their particular interest in Claude.
Outside the palace, they were unable to get clear of the crowd without the risk of attracting attention, and so waited the night through, until the madness broke in the small hours. Robert and Angelina made it inside with the angry citizens. In the fighting, they were able to distract the raging people who had killed Claude, and thus spirit his body to safety.
Teaching Claude had been such a delight. From the moment he recovered from his first death, the 28-year-old musician found his life full of surprise after surprise. He had accepted Angelina as a teacher after only the first time she put him on the floor and laid her blade against his neck.
In March, when they asked him if he would play at their wedding, he had gawked at them. "Aren't you already married?" he asked.
"Yes, of course we are," Robert had replied cheerfully. "It'll be a special anniversary, though, so we're going to marry again!"
"When is the wedding?"
"In May," Angelina told him. He was pondering that when she added, "In 1796."
He blinked at her. "Six years from now?"
"It will be a special wedding," Angelina told him cheerfully. "Our hundredth anniversary!"
Claude had wandered out of the room, muttering "Hundredth!" in bemused astonishment.
He lacked the killer instinct, did Claude Devereux. They did not require it of him, filled as they were themselves with light and love, content to be their own island in an ever-changing world. When he felt he could, he left. And, like all of their friends, would wander back into their lives at intervals. He had promised, after all, to play at their hundredth wedding. He happened to be staying with them when the women descended upon the de Valicourt estate a few months before the wedding to plan with Angelina.
Amanda, Rebecca, Caroline, Kyra, Ceirdwyn, and Angelina gathered together upon the roof terrace. The servants brought bedding and refreshments for all of them. Amanda reported she had been unable to reach Ludmilla, who would have loved to come if she had heard about the wedding, not needing to have met Robert and Angelina first. Rebecca teased her that she ought to keep closer contact with her students, and Amanda wrapped her arms around her teacher's waist and kissed her cheek with trust and affection.
"We can't all be closely bound," she said. "You would like Ludmilla. She's a lot of fun!"
Rebecca laughed and hugged her back. "Like teacher, like student!"
Caroline stretched on her toes and asked, "Is she younger than I am?"
Amanda cocked her head. "How old are you?"
"Oh, a hundred and thirty." She winked playfully at Amanda.
Amanda grinned and shook her head cheerfully. "She's twice your age." She gave Caroline's gentle face a close perusal, then asked, "How old were you when you died?"
Caroline pretended to be offended by the question, then giggled and said, "Twenty-seven."
"She was about the same age," Amanda said cheerfully. "You'd have a lot in common."
She remembered their first parting.
Amanda and Ludmilla, during the long months of training, had done rooftop robberies of the nobles, getting into homes invited as rich guests, only to come back in the dead of the night. One night, rather than an hour or two of excited bounding across the rooftops, Amanda led Ludmilla out of town on horseback, looking for all the world like they were two pretty-faced young gentlemen braving the roads. Amanda kept a weather eye on Ludmilla, whose horse stepped nervously under the hidden tension of her rider. Eventually Ludmilla relaxed a degree, and Amanda relaxed with her. After some time, they rode into a valley, and Amanda dismounted and looked around under the moonlight, smiling slightly.
Ludmilla dismounted, too, a gentle hand on her horse's reins, and looked questioningly at her teacher. "Where are we?"
"This is Rütli," Amanda told her.
Startled, Ludmilla took in as much as she could in the dark night, but the moon lit the area well enough. The lake lay still and beautiful. The mountain peaks loomed - up, up into the dark sky.
"The Rütli Oath," Ludmilla whispered. "I saw the play two or three times, years ago. I've heard the ballad." Suddenly shy, she met Amanda's eyes. "Were you here?"
"I was," Amanda answered her softly. "We will be free as our fathers were; better death than a life of slavery!"
Ludmilla laughed, her smile almost a wince. "They never speak of the women."
"No, they do not," Amanda agreed. She touched Ludmilla's cheek gently. "You feel imprisoned, even with me."
"No, no I don't!" Ludmilla objected, suddenly frightened but uncertain why. "You've freed me!"
Amanda grinned, but shook her head. "You have as much fun as I do escaping, but you get very tense while we're thieving."
"It's just... it's just robbers murdered me," Ludmilla replied reluctantly.
"What would you like to do with your life?" Amanda asked her. She gestured around. "Here, in this place where oaths of freedom were sworn, what would you like to do?"
Ludmilla closed her eyes and drew in a deep breath. She held it, released it, and then said quickly, "I want to hunt men!"
"Oh?" Amanda was brightly interested. "And do what with them?"
Ludmilla took a quick look to see if Amanda might be leering, but her expression was one of genuine interest. "Get rewarded. I want to hunt robbers and get payment for bringing them to prison!"
Amanda applauded cheerfully. "But only men, yes?"
"Yes. Only men."
Amanda hugged her and they laughed together. "Then do it. I think everything you've learned from me is useful in life as a hunter of men!"
They spent hours on the terrace, amusing themselves with talk of the world, of how astonished the younger of them had been when the colonies won their war for independence. Ceirdwyn was more thoughtful than astonished. Kyra's gaze turned inwards as she remembered other battles. Rebecca only smiled wisely, for she was the oldest of them and had seen much more.
Robert and Claude came out onto the roof when things quieted down and checked the sleepy ladies to see if they wanted anything, but they wished only to fall asleep watching the stars. Bemused, the two men retired back into the house.
Claude, glancing enviously at Robert's besotted expression, shook his head. "I had thought surely Lady Angelina was exceptional," he began.
Robert wheeled on him, but laughing eyes betrayed no anger. "Oh, she is! The most exceptional woman in the entire world!"
At that, Claude laughed and shook his head. "Today was the first time I've met another Immortal woman."
"Really?" Robert said, slightly surprised. He thought about it. "Hm!" he said at last, and shrugged.
"It must be nice to love someone who will never get sickly; who will never age and die."
"That's not why I love her," Robert responded cheerfully. He considered it a moment. "I love her because she is everything to me. From the moment we met, everything in my life suddenly had meaning. And all of it is Angelina."
"Will I ever have that?" Claude asked, a poignant longing in his voice.
"I was two hundred thirty-five when we met," Robert told him, radiating happiness. "That's the beauty of being an Immortal. If I weren't, I'd have died before she was born."
Claude laughed at that. "I have time, then."
"So long as you keep your head!" He clapped Claude's shoulder, then told him, "Of course you might fall in love with a mortal lady."
Claude blinked and shook his head slowly. "No. No, I think not. I'll stay away from mortal women. I don't think I could stand to lose my woman that way."
"Ah, you think you can control your heart! The heart has its reasons, of which reason knows nothing."
"Words of the inventor Blaise Pascal! Did you know him?"
"No. Angelina knew him. When she went by Saintôt."
He turned quickly to see Claude's puzzled expression. "Saintôt?"
"Yes. She had her own ruelle. She took care of the Pascal children when their father fled Paris in 1638." Attempting to clarify, he added, "Richelieu was after him."
Angelina laughed as she finished telling the story. "And that was how Kyra and I met. She thought at first I had died as a grand dame. It takes so little to age in France. I simply thickly powdered my face, and all assumed I was hiding wrinkles and age spots." So she had known many brilliant men and women, witnessed and encouraged many to speak their minds. She had been the lover of Vincent Voiture and, when he died, she left Madame Saintôt behind.
"In the morning, Monsieur Piton will be here to measure us for our gowns."
"Have you hidden your most precious jewelry?" Caroline asked. "He's as much the charmer as Fitz, but is also quite a thief."
"He only steals special pieces," Angelina replied, "and oh yes, we do keep those hidden away when he visits! His gowns, though..." They all sighed dreamily.
"Who else is coming?" Ceirdwyn asked.
"Ah! Duncan and Hugh, of course. Sean will be joining us, thank you, Caroline. My teacher Angelo. Grace said yes, but she could not get here this early. Claude, whom you met tonight, and Robert's student Guillermo. We invited more, but some have not answered. Mako refused." The others laughed at that. "Marcus is out of the country, I'm sorry, Ceirdwyn." It saddened her that they had been unable to reach Alexis and Matthew.
Ceirdwyn nodded. "He is probably in Egypt again." She and Kyra exchanged knowing looks. Marcus often went to Egypt to hunt for the sarcophagus of his lost love.
Angelina took a goblet of wine in her hands. She stood up solemnly and looked around at her fellow Immortals under the silvery shine of the stars. "There can be only one," she began, "but that is not today, and it is not tomorrow. Not those who love us, nor those we love. I am honored that you will join Robert and me to celebrate our first century of love."
The night before their third hundredth year wedding, they stood in the small chapel in their chateau, leaning together, arms around each other.
They had enjoyed themselves inviting other Immortals to their first hundredth wedding. They had tried very hard to get a cross selection of the very old and the young. To bring students together with their teachers. Rebecca who had taught Amanda who had taught Ludmilla. Marcus who had taught Ceirdwyn who had taught Alexis when still very young herself, and Matthew. Connor who had taught Duncan. Sean who had taught Caroline. Angelo who had taught Angelina who had taught, along with Robert, Claude. Fitz, who had been there when Robert and Gina first met, and would attend both of their hundred-year weddings. They had wanted Claude to see Immortals enjoying each other's company, and they had wanted Mako to show him how strong you could be while the world changed around you. They had wanted to enjoy Piton's incredible gowns.
Caroline's death had been long ago, but many losses had been recent. Darius, Fitz, Rebecca, Claude, Mako... and quite recently, Sean and Marcus. Gina had woken one day to a seemingly bottomless sense of loss, of impending doom. Everywhere she turned, she could only see a yawning pit with no Robert. And if there was no Robert, then there was no reason to go on.
However juvenile Robert's desperate ploy had been, it had pulled her out of that pit. He was here. He was alive, and they still had time. Other Immortals could still love them enough to stage a show, as Duncan had with the help of Adam. William had e-mailed saying he adored them but preferred to stay in Tahiti, would they come and visit him. Angelo had e-mailed that he was coming this time. Ceirdwyn and Amanda were coming, Amanda bringing a student named Michelle. Carl Robinson was coming, and a dozen more.
Gina and Robert grinned at each other. "There can be only one, but that is not today," she said firmly.
"And it is not tomorrow," he responded, just as firmly. "For tomorrow, we celebrate three centuries of love."