The suite was vast and elegant, carrying the faint scent of beeswax polish mixed with the lingering sweetness of lilies from a nearby porcelain vase. In the sitting area, plush velvet sofas and heavy armchairs were arranged around a marble fireplace, where logs had been stacked neatly, ready to be lit.
A massive crystal chandelier hung from the ornate ceiling, its countless facets catching the pale winter light. The tall windows offered a sweeping view of Rue de Rivoli. Below, cars crawled through the gray afternoon like a slow-moving stream of metal, their distant horns muffled by the thick glass.
There were three bedrooms, two grand and decorated with gold leaf accents, the other more modest.
The spacious bathroom featured a heavy claw-foot tub and a separate glass-enclosed shower.
Cinder jumped out of Nimue's arms and hurried toward the window, his claws skidding slightly across the polished parquet floor. He pressed his damp nose against the glass, his russet tail wagging excitedly.
Nimue followed him and pressed her face against the cold pane.
"Look! The street! The cars!"
Saoirse dropped her travel bag beside the door and stretched her arms wide. Her black hair, marked by its distinctive white streak, was still messy from the journey.
"I will take the big bedroom."
"Of course," Jane replied, nodding as she adjusted her gloves.
Jack walked over to the fireplace, knelt on the rug, and lit the logs with a quick, practiced flick of his wand. The flames caught immediately, crackling to life as a comforting warmth spread through the room and chased away the December chill.
The Delacours arrived a few minutes later. Philippe carried their two small leather suitcases while Apolline held Fleur's hand. The girl's blue eyes widened as she took in the grandeur of the suite, the chandelier's light reflecting in her pupils.
« C'est magnifique, » she breathed, barely above a whisper
« Nimue, laisse Fleur regarder par la fenêtre, » Jane said, placing a gentle hand on her daughter's shoulder.
(Nimue, let Fleur look out the window.)
Nimue stepped aside, allowing the older girl to take her place by the glass. Fleur looked down at the busy street, then up at the expansive, leaden sky and across the gray rooftops of Paris.
« On est haut, » she said softly.
(We are high up.)
« Troisième étage, » Nimue replied, as though that particular fact explained everything.
(Third floor.)
Fleur smiled and turned away from the view. Her gaze shifted to Nimue, then to the crackling fire in the hearth.
« La tour Eiffel, » Nimue whispered.
(The Eiffel Tower.)
Fleur came to stand beside her.
« Oui. Elle scintille toutes les heures. Ce sera bientôt l'heure. »
(Yes. It sparkles every hour. It will be time soon.)
Nimue pressed her palm against the cold glass. Her breath left a small cloud of mist on the surface, which slowly faded.
« Grande sœur. »
« Oui. »
« Merci d'être venue. »
(Thank you for coming.)
Fleur looked at her. Nimue's reflection was clear in the window, her green eyes bright against the backdrop of the emerging city lights.
« Merci de nous avoir invités, » Fleur replied warmly.
(Thank you for inviting us.)
Nimue took her hand and held it firmly.
« C'est normal. Tu es ma grande sœur. »
(Of course. You are my big sister.)
. . .
The connecting door between the two rooms stood open. Nimue had already checked it three times, pushing against it with her palm to make sure it wouldn't close by itself.
« Elle ne va pas se fermer, » (It's not going to close) Fleur said from her place in the armchair, watching the younger girl test the heavy brass hinges again.
« Je veux être sûre. »
(I want to be sure.)
Cinder had already claimed a spot on the bed nearest the window. He lay stretched across the crisp white duvet, his russet fur standing out against the pale fabric. His amber eyes followed Nimue as she moved around the room.
Jane came through the connecting door. Her hair was perfectly pinned up, and she had changed into a dark green dress. She looked at Nimue, who was still wearing her rumpled travel clothes, and raised an eyebrow.
« Tu n'es pas prête, ma chérie. »
(You aren't ready, my darling.)
« Je me prépare. »
(I'm getting ready.)
« Prépare-toi plus vite. Le dîner est dans une heure. »
(Get ready faster. Dinner is in an hour.)
Nimue looked at Fleur. The older girl was already wearing a pale blue dress that matched her eyes, with a silver clip holding her blonde hair in place. She looked like something straight out of a department store window, perfectly dressed, poised, and almost untouchable.
« Tu es belle, » Nimue said, staring at her.
The tips of Fleur's ears turned pink.
« Merci. Toi aussi, tu seras belle quand tu te seras changée. »
(Thank you. You will be beautiful too once you have changed.)
Nimue looked down at her thick wool sweater and leggings, which still had a small chocolate stain from breakfast.
« Viens, » Jane said, taking her hand. « Je t'ai apporté une robe. »
(Come. I brought you a dress.)
The dress was dark green, the same shade as the Keith family crest. It had long sleeves and a wide skirt that flared whenever Nimue spun around. Jane brushed her daughter's white hair until it shone like silk, then pulled it back with two silver clips.
Nimue studied her reflection in the tall mirror. The girl looking back had bright green eyes, snowy white hair, and the small crescent moon birthmark behind her left ear.
"Good," she said, nodding with satisfaction.
Jane smiled and kissed the top of her head.
. . . .
The dining room at Le Meurice was a hall of gold and crystal. Chandeliers hung above tables covered in white linen, and the windows overlooked Rue de Rivoli, where the streetlamps cast a warm orange glow. A pianist played in one corner, filling the room with a slow, lilting melody that Nimue didn't recognize.
Their table stood near the window and was large enough to accommodate all eight of them. Jack held Nimue's chair while she climbed onto the plush cushion. Fleur sat beside her, followed by Apolline and Philippe. Jane sat across from Nimue, with Saoirse and Jack on either side. A waiter soon appeared with menus nearly as tall as Nimue's arm.
« Je te lirai, » (I will read it to you.) Fleur offered, leaning closer.
She took the menu and scanned the first page, her brow furrowing slightly.
« Il y a beaucoup de mots. »
(There are so many words.)
« Je veux du steak, » Nimue declared firmly.
(I want steak.)
Fleur looked at her with amusement.
« Tu veux toujours du steak. » (You always want steak.)
« Parce que c'est bon. » (Because it's good.)
Apolline leaned over with a smile.
« Elles se disputent déjà? » (Are they already arguing?)
« Non, » Nimue replied. « On discute. »
(No. We are discussing.)
Philippe laughed, his voice deep and hearty.
« C'est la même chose. » (It's the same thing.)
The meal arrived in carefully prepared courses. First came a smooth, pale green soup with a swirl of rich cream. Nimue ate carefully, dipping her spoon without spilling a single drop. Fleur watched her for a moment before eating her own.
Then came the steak Nimue had requested, served with buttery mashed potatoes and crisp green beans. She cut the meat into small pieces using the same careful method she had practiced at the apartment, then placed three pieces on Fleur's plate.
Fleur didn't protest this time. She simply ate them.
Between courses, the adults chatted comfortably. Jane and Apolline discussed Beauxbâtons, comparing retired professors and the quality of the food in the Grand Salon. Philippe asked Jack about the Keith estate, and Jack described the ancient manor and the grounds that stretched for miles across the English countryside.
Saoirse told them a story about a market in Morocco, where a merchant had tried to sell her a rug that turned out to be a sleeping magic carpet. It had flown her across the square before she could climb off.
« Tu es montée dessus? » (You got on it?) Apolline asked, both horrified and fascinated.
« Je ne savais pas qu'il volait! » (I didn't know it could fly!)
Nimue listened with only half an ear. Her attention was fixed on Fleur's hands. The older girl's fingers were long and pale, and she wore a thin silver ring on her right hand. A tiny blue stone was set into it, catching the candlelight whenever she moved.
« Qu'est-ce que c'est? » (What is this?) Nimue asked, reaching out to touch the ring.
« Un cadeau de ma grand-mère. » Fleur turned her hand so Nimue could see the details. « Elle me l'a donnée quand j'avais cinq ans. »
(A gift from my grandmother. She gave it to me when I was five.)
« Elle est jolie. » (It's pretty.)
« Merci. »
Nimue looked down at her own hands. They were small and bare, with only the silver warding bracelet Elara had given her on her left wrist. She didn't have any rings.
« Je veux une bague. » (I want a ring.)
Jane glanced up from her conversation. « Quand tu seras plus âgée, ma chérie. »
(When you are older, my darling.)
« Quand j'aurai cinq ans? » (When I'm five?)
« Peut-être. On verra. » (Maybe. We will see.)
Nimue filed that information away for later.
Dessert arrived after the silver plates had been cleared. Each person received a small dark chocolate cake topped with a delicate piece of gold leaf. Nimue had never seen gold used as a decoration on food before, so she reached out and touched it with her fingertip.
« Ça se mange? » (Do you eat it?)
« Oui, » Fleur replied. « C'est très fin. Ça fond sur la langue. »
(Yes. It's very thin. It melts on your tongue.)
Nimue placed the gold leaf in her mouth. It didn't taste like anything, and its texture was strange, somewhere between papery and soft. She finished the rest of her cake in three bites.
Fleur ate hers more slowly, savoring each forkful. Nimue watched her for a moment before glancing down at her own empty plate.
« Tu veux le reste du mien? » (Do you want the rest of mine?) Fleur asked.
Nimue nodded, and Fleur pushed her plate across the table. Nimue happily finished the remaining cake.
. . .
After dinner, they gathered in the grand lobby. The pianist had been replaced by a small ensemble of violin, cello, and accordion players. Their music made Nimue's feet itch to move.
« On danse? » (Shall we dance?) Philippe asked, offering his hand to Apolline.
« Toujours. » (Always.)
They moved to the open space near the piano, where several other couples had already gathered. Philippe rested one hand on Apolline's waist, and they began turning slowly together beneath the golden light.
Saoirse glanced at Jack. "Are you dancing?"
"No."
"Pity." She shrugged and headed toward the bar.
Jane settled onto a velvet sofa near the window to watch the dancers. Nimue climbed onto the cushion beside her and leaned against her mother's arm.
"You aren't dancing, Maman?"
"I'm tired. And your feet are too small to dance with me."
Fleur stood nearby with her hands behind her back, her head tilted as she watched the couples. Nimue slid off the sofa and approached her, holding out one small hand.
« Danse avec moi, grande sœur. » (Dance with me, big sister.)
Fleur looked at the little hand, then at the dancers, before turning her eyes back to Nimue.
« Je ne sais pas danser avec quelqu'un d'aussi petit. »
(I don't know how to dance with someone so small.)
« Tu tiens mes mains. Et on tourne. »
(You hold my hands. And we turn.)
Fleur hesitated for a moment before taking Nimue's hands. They began to turn slowly, Fleur stepping backward as Nimue stepped forward. Their movements were a little uncoordinated, but they managed to keep going.
« Regarde-moi, pas tes pieds, » (Look at me, not your feet,) Fleur said, guiding her.
Nimue raised her eyes. Fleur's blue gaze was steady, and a small smile curved her lips.
« Comme ça. » (Like this.)
They turned again. Nimue stumbled when her foot caught on the hem of her green dress, but Fleur caught her and kept her upright with practiced ease.
« Encore. »Nimue said.
They continued until Nimue grew dizzy and her white hair spun around her face. At last, she stopped and rested her forehead against Fleur's chest.
« Tu danses bien. » (You dance well,) she murmured.
« Tu n'as pas marché sur mes pieds. » (You didn't step on my feet.)
« Je sais. »
. . .
The crowd in the lobby began to thin as midnight approached. Some guests went outside, while others gathered near the tall windows. Nimue and the others made their way through the lobby toward the grand staircase.
« On va où? » (Where are we going?) Nimue asked.
« En haut, il y a une terrasse d'où on pourra voir les feux d'artifice. »
(Upstairs, there's a terrace where we can watch the fireworks.)
Nimue took Fleur's hand, and they climbed the stairs together, with Cinder trotting behind them on his leash. His amber eyes were wide as he took in the festive noise and bustle.
The terrace was on the sixth floor, a broad stone balcony enclosed by iron railings. Potted evergreens lined the edges, their branches wrapped in twinkling white lights.
Nimue hurried to the railing and pressed her face between the bars. The city stretched out below her, a sea of dark buildings and golden lights. The Seine cut through the center like a black ribbon.
« Là, » Fleur said, pointing. « La tour Eiffel. »
(There. The Eiffel Tower.)
The tower stood in the distance, illuminated like a golden skeleton against the night. Its lights flickered and pulsed.
« Elle clignote, » (It's sparkling,) Nimue whispered.
« Toutes les heures. Regarde. » (Every hour. Watch.)
They stood shoulder to shoulder, watching the tower sparkle in the distance. The adults gathered behind them, and Philippe checked his watch.
« Encore vingt minutes. »
(Twenty minutes more.)
Apolline handed Nimue a cup of hot chocolate. It felt warm even through her gloves. Nimue took a sip before holding it out toward Fleur.
« Tu veux? » (Do you want some?)
Fleur shook her head. "It's pour toi." (It's for you.)
« On peut partager. » (We can share.)
Fleur finally took a small sip before handing the cup back.
As the minutes passed, more people gathered on the terrace. Nimue leaned against the railing, her head beginning to feel heavy.
« Fatiguée? » Jane asked as she came to stand behind her.
« Non. »
"Your eyes say otherwise."
Nimue rubbed them with the back of her glove.
"I want to see the fireworks."
"You will see them. Then you can sleep."
Nimue nodded and turned back toward the city. In the darkness, Fleur's hand found hers, and their fingers slipped together. Nimue glanced down at their joined hands before looking up at Fleur's face, faintly illuminated by the distant city lights.
« Grande sœur. »
« Oui. »
« Je suis contente que tu sois là. » (I'm happy you are here.)
Fleur gently squeezed her hand.
« Moi aussi. » (Me too.)
A murmur spread through the crowd as people began counting down together.
« Dix... neuf... huit... »
(Ten... nine... eight...)
Nimue's eyes widened, and she leaned closer to the railing.
« ...sept... six... cinq... »
(...seven... six... five...)
The tower went dark.
« ...quatre... trois... deux... un... »
(...four... three... two... one...)
Light erupted from the base of the tower in silver, gold, and blue, shooting into the sky before bursting into enormous flowers of color. The crowd cheered, and champagne corks popped with sharp cracks. Nimue gasped.
The fireworks climbed higher, filling the sky with cascading light in every shade imaginable. A moment later, the sound reached them in a series of deep booms that made the terrace doors tremble.
Fleur gently pulled Nimue one step back from the railing, wrapping an arm around her shoulders to keep her safe.
« Tu vois? » (You see?) she said over the noise.
Nimue nodded, her eyes reflecting the brilliant, shifting colors.
« Bonne année, grande sœur. » (Happy New Year, big sister.)
Fleur looked down at her, her face illuminated by flashes of gold and blue.
« Bonne année, Nimue. »
The display continued for ten minutes, but Nimue lost all sense of time. She watched until the final burst faded and the tower lit up again, sparkling against the night. The crowd began streaming back inside, but Nimue remained where she was.
« Fini. » Fleur said gently.
« Encore? »
« Pas avant l'année prochaine. » (Not until next year.)
Nimue thought about that.
« C'est long. » (That's a long time.)
Fleur laughed and took her hand.
« Viens, il fait froid. » (Come on, it's cold.)
They returned to the warm, brightly lit lobby. The staff were handing out champagne to the adults. Jane accepted a glass but set it aside without drinking.
« Nimue. Tu veux aller te coucher? » (Nimue. Do you want to go to bed?)
Nimue shook her head, although her eyes were already drooping.
« Je vais la mettre au lit, » (I will put her to bed,) Jane told Apolline.
« On va se promener un peu. Fleur n'est pas fatiguée. » (We will walk around for a little while. Fleur isn't tired,) Apolline replied.
Fleur glanced at Nimue, then turned to her mother.
« Je peux rester avec elle? » (Can I stay with her?)
Apolline hesitated before nodding.
« Un petit moment. Mais ne la réveille pas. » (For a little while. But don't wake her.)
Jane carried Nimue back to their hotel room. The girl's head rested against her mother's shoulder, her green eyes already half closed. One of her shoes had fallen off somewhere along the carpeted corridor.
Jane laid her on the bed, removed the remaining shoe, and changed her out of the velvet dress into a soft nightgown. Cinder jumped onto the bed and curled up at her feet.
Fleur stood quietly in the doorway.
« Tu veux t'asseoir avec elle? » (Would you like to sit with her?) Jane asked.
Fleur nodded. Jane pulled a chair close to the bed, then left the room and closed the door behind her.
Fleur sat with her hands in her lap, watching Nimue breathe.
« Tu dors? » (Are you asleep?) she whispered.
Nimue's eyes opened just a crack.
« Non. »
« Tes parents ont dit que tu partais le six janvier. » (Your parents said you are leaving on January sixth.)
« Oui. »
« Je peux revenir avant? » (Can I come back before then?)
« Oui. » Nimue's eyes opened a little wider. « Demain? » (Yes. Tomorrow?)
« Peut-être. » (Maybe.)
Nimue reached out from beneath the blanket and found Fleur's hand.
« Tu restes un peu? » (Will you stay for a while?)
Fleur glanced toward the door before looking back at her.
« Un peu. » (A little.)
She pulled the chair closer and rested her arm on the blanket, making it easier for Nimue to hold her hand. The room was quiet, apart from the distant sounds of scattered fireworks across the city. Nimue's grip gradually loosened, and her breathing deepened as she drifted into sleep.
Fleur didn't move. She remained in the chair, watching the younger girl dream. The clock on the nightstand showed 12:47. After a while, Fleur leaned her head against the back of the chair and closed her eyes.
Jane found them an hour later. Fleur had fallen asleep in the chair, her head tilted to one side, while Nimue had curled toward her in her sleep. Her small fingers were still wrapped around Fleur's hand.
Jane paused in the doorway, one hand covering her mouth.
Saoirse appeared behind her and peered over her shoulder.
"Well," she whispered.
"Don't wake them," Jane said softly.
She took a blanket from the other bed and gently draped it over Fleur's shoulders. Then she turned off the light and quietly closed the door.
===
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