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The door slams, shaking the walls.
“A child? Really?” Daniel asks, folding his arms over his chest.
“I said he had the heart of—”
“Come on, man,” Daniel says.
Marius sets his jaw in a hard line of stubborn determination, but there’s a flicker in his eyes. Regret? Maybe, maybe not yet. Maybe just frustration about how the conversation turned into an angry fight so fast, or at how heated it got. And how he let Armand rattle his composure, roused the fury in him until he fought back.
Daniel’s gut twists. He knows how that can be with Armand. Armand is clever and cutting, difficult to argue with because of how intense and quick he is. Sometimes Daniel struggles to keep up in the middle of their fights, blurting things out just to get a jab in before Armand lands another blow.
But still, Daniel watched Armand’s face change when Marius said it, going from animated and angry to a solid, impassive mask. That mask, that blankness, is when you know you’ve really hit a nerve with Armand.
Daniel surveys the floor which is littered with shards of broken glass. Armand had tossed several glass sculptures onto the ground during the worst of the fight, which hadn’t helped his case, but Marius had pushed him past all reason. Daniel understands this, too, knowing how Armand evokes the same feelings in him. And sometimes even Marius, who’s so damn stoic and stubborn, trying to reason with him can sometimes feel like beating your fists bloody against a brick wall.
Neither of them are blameless, but he can understand where they were both coming from. And yet Marius’ insult finally pushed things over the edge.
Daniel heads for the door.
“He’s misguided,” Marius says. “Annihilating the Replimoids would be a mistake.”
Daniel pauses, hand on the knob. “Maybe. But he deserves to have his concerns taken seriously.”
Daniel slips out of the room. He follows Armand down the hall, rushing to catch up with him. Armand moves fast, fueled by his fury and hurt. There aren’t many others around but those he passes give Armand wide berth. Enough of the younger ones are scared of Armand on a good night anyway. A few of them shoot Daniel curious looks, but he keeps his head down and follows his auburn-haired maker through the castle.
When Armand reaches the door to his apartment, he turns, whirling on Daniel.
“Don’t start,” he says. He keeps his expression stoic, carefully blank, but Daniel sees the tint of red tears in his eyes threatening to fall. Daniel’s stomach roils. He hates seeing Armand cry.
Daniel puts his hands up, like he’s being arrested. “I come in peace.”
Armand huffs. “If he sent you to make nice…”
“He was out of line,” Daniel says plainly.
Armand’s brows fly up. He studies Daniel for a moment, staring at him. Tilts his head, as if trying to really examine Daniel from all angles. It sends a shiver through Daniel.
And then abruptly, Armand unlocks his door and goes inside. Daniel waits in the hall, uncertain. The door shuts but the lock doesn’t engage. After a moment, Daniel opens it. When Armand doesn’t protest, he slips inside.
Armand is lighting a fire in the fireplace. He turns and Daniel sees the blood tears have finally fallen, smearing down Armand’s pale cheeks. He looks surprised to see Daniel there, as if he thought he would leave when he shut the door on him. Maybe that’s what he wanted, and Daniel wonders if he should go.
He doesn’t want to go. He wants to pull Armand against him and kiss the blood off his cheeks. He sets a hand on the back of a chair. There are two of them, plush velvet, facing the fire. Armand stands between them as if caught in a net, unsure what to do. Daniel isn’t sure either.
“He’s wrong about you,” Daniel says finally.
More tears slide down Armand’s face and he averts his gaze, turning toward the window. “Yes.”
“It was unfair of him to imply that you’re vicious and naive just because he doesn’t agree,” Daniel says. Not exactly Marius’ words but Daniel doesn’t dare repeat them. Referring to Armand as childlike in any fashion was a low blow since Marius knows damn well Armand hates that he sees him that way.
Since their time together on Night Island in the late 80s, Armand has been struggling to show Marius the person he is now, the man he’s become. Marius knows it on some level, but on another, Daniel suspects he’ll always see him as Amadeo. Daniel can sort of understand that. But he knows Marius’ failure to treat Armand as he does Lestat or the others, to see him as an equal member of Court, is causing tension between the two of them. And lately Daniel gets stuck in the middle.
Daniel drops his hand from his chair. “He shouldn’t have said it.”
Armand inhales a shuddering breath. He wipes uselessly at the blood on his face. Daniel goes into the bathroom and wets a towel. He comes back and wipes Armand’s cheeks. At first, he thinks Armand will protest—after all, he’s just been compared to a child, the last thing he might want is someone wiping his face—but he allows it. Daniel kisses his cheeks once they’re clean of blood.
Armand looks up at him, eyes still glistening with blood tears. He sniffles and then takes another shuddering breath, steadying himself. “You didn’t have to come.”
Daniel bites back a laugh. What an absurd thing to say! Of course he didn’t. “I wanted to make sure you were okay.” Armand stares, silent. After a moment, Daniel adds, “He can be stubborn.” Stating the obvious, but it’s true.
“He’s refusing to listen to reason,” Armand says, anger still burning in his words. He takes the towel from Daniel’s hands and dabs at his eyes before ringing it in his hands. “I might as well try to melt glass with my eyes.”
Daniel resists the urge to point out that sometimes arguing with Armand feels exactly the same way. Or that perhaps Marius has a point about diplomacy and the path of least resistance with these goddamn alien creatures.
But Daniel didn’t come to argue. “He thinks it’s best to see what might come of trying to work with them, that’s all.”
“And what do you think?” Armand asks.
“About the Replimoids?” Daniel considers. He hasn’t attended the meetings, hasn’t met any of them, only seen them from a distance. He knows Marius is curious about them. He knows the reaction they invoked in Amel, who sent a blast of pain burning through the veins of all of their kind. Both Marius and Armand made good points in their argument tonight before it devolved into a fight. “I admit I don’t know what the right answer is, but I think it’s unwise to shut down dissenting opinions. This Court isn’t going to last if we don’t listen to each other.”
Armand huffs again. “Tell that to your dear Marius.”
Daniel gives him a dark look. “I have and I will. But Armand, why are you so certain these things need to be destroyed?”
“They’re dangerous,” Armand insists. “And powerful. If we don’t dispatch them now when we have the chance, we’ll regret it.”
Daniel taps his fingers against his jeans. Armand said as much to Marius. “What if they end up being great allies? We could certainly use more of those.”
Armand glares. “Daniel, you haven’t met these creatures. They hold far too much power and either don’t understand how to wield it or wish for us to believe they’re incapable of doing so. Either way, they’re no friends of ours. Trusting them could spell disaster for our kind. And Amel…their connection to him is only more proof they should be dispatched before they become a problem.”
Armand’s words are passionate, heated.
“I’m not arguing with you, boss. I only know what I’ve heard.”
“Which is?” Armand folds his arms over his chest.
Daniel shrugs. “That learning more about them could reveal all kinds of things about the nature of our kind.”
“They would be just as useful dead. Perhaps more so. Fareed and Seth can tear them apart and learn more that way than by all of us gathering around a conference table trying to glean information.”
Daniel laughs. “Well, that’s probably true.”
Armand’s expression softens and he drops his arms to his sides. “At least you haven’t lost your mind over those things.”
“Been there, done that, have the t-shirt,” Daniel jokes.
Armand purses his lips and studies Daniel warily, as if he worried he just said the wrong thing. Daniel puts his hands in his pockets and looks around the sitting room. It’s finely decorated with Renaissance art on the walls and luxurious velvet curtains hanging around the window. Oak shelves against the wall hold more sculptures and books. It reminds Daniel of Armand’s room in the cellar beneath the Night Island Villa, the one he moved into after he was finally turned. It’s a stark contrast to Trinity Gate, which has a brighter, modern aesthetic, with its gleaming marble foyer and white coved ceilings.
“You know, we could leave,” Daniel says. “Go back to New York for a while.”
Things were good between them in New York before coming here. They were getting to know each other again, finding their place in each other’s lives again. Court has complicated things. There’s always so much going on and so many others around. It might be nice to get out of here for a bit.
Armand is silent for a long time and Daniel fiddles with a lighter in his pocket, wondering if the suggestion was a mistake.
Finally, Armand says, “I’d like that.” Relief courses through Daniel. “But not until things are settled here. There’s still too much stake for our kind and too many people happy to let those things have far too much sway.”
Daniel lets go of the lighter and pulls his hand out of his pocket. “Of course. And someone needs to be the voice of reason.”
Armand’s lips curve into a wry smile. “Are you offering? Perhaps they’ll listen to you.”
Daniel snorts derisively. “Like hell they will. I’m not even invited to the meetings.”
He could go, of course, if he asked. Marius has made it clear he’s welcome to take a more active role at Court should he choose. But he’s been uneasy with the idea, and after Amel put the blood whammy on all of them the other night, he’s not sure it would be prudent. He’s too used to speaking his mind and might say the wrong thing at the wrong time. The last thing he needs is to be the reason Amel goes nuclear again or these damned alien beings attack or something.
“Besides, if they won’t listen to you, there’s no chance they’d give me the time of day.”
Armand crosses his arms over his chest. “They’re fools.”
“Not entirely.” Armand huffs. “I just mean, I understand wanting to believe the solution is diplomacy.” Daniel still thinks that might actually be the case, but Armand’s suspicions make him wary. Armand is not savage and reckless, as Marius implied. He has good instincts. If he wants these beings destroyed, he might very well be onto something. “Maybe we’ll get lucky and they’ll be right.”
Armand gives him a dubious look. “Our kind has endured two sets of horrific burnings that nearly destroyed us in a matter of decades. None of us should be counting on luck.”
Daniel itches for a cigarette but has none. Marius finds the acrid smell cigarettes leave on his clothes distasteful, and Daniel has been trying to give it up. He’s not even addicted anymore, his vampire body has no need for nicotine, but he clings to the habit anyway.
“You really think these Replimoids are that dangerous?” he asks.
Armand lifts his shoulders in a shrug. He walks to the window and glances out. This room overlooks a courtyard. “I think they have the potential to do much worse. But what do I know? I have a savage and ignorant heart.”
Daniel moves up behind Armand, peering into the empty courtyard. There’s a fountain that doesn’t run. Daniel doesn’t know if it’s turned off or doesn’t work, but the stone statue in the middle holds a pitcher that never pours water, and Daniel stares at it for a long time.
Then he leans against the wall next to the window, facing Armand. “Do you remember what I said at Trinity Gate not long after I arrived? About how our kind has a great capacity for love?”
“Yes.”
“It was the thing that captivated me about Louis’ story. The potential for love in eternity, the potential for forgiveness and togetherness when you have forever.”
Armand glances over at him. “Yes, Daniel, we’ve discussed this before.”
“The idea of it was alluring. But it was a fantasy to me, as much as being immortal and living forever. It wasn’t until I got to know you that I understood how deeply and fully an immortal could love.” Daniel reaches out and adjusts the collar of Armand’s shirt. “Your heart isn’t savage, boss. It’s overflowing. You don’t seek to destroy these beings out of hatred or fear. It’s because you want to protect those you love at any cost.”
Armand opens his mouth, lips parting, but he closes it again. His eyes meet Daniel’s and there’s something in them Daniel can’t pinpoint. Pride? Affection? Perhaps just relief.
He reaches out and strokes Daniel’s cheek with the backs of his fingers, the cold metal of his rings contrasting with the softness of his skin. The touch is electric and it sends tingles down Daniel’s spine.
“You are still a gift to me, beloved,” Armand says.
Daniel smiles. Before he can respond, Armand leans forward and kisses him, wrapping his arms around him. His lips are soft and cool against Daniel’s, which are still warm from the blood he’d drunk earlier. He moans into the heat of his mouth, Armand’s tongue pushing in deeper, eager with need. Daniel kisses him back, pulling him close, holding him there as their tongues slide together. It’s not a kiss fueled by passion so much as a deep, desperate need to be connected to each other.
When they finally break from the kiss, Daniel bends down and presses his forehead against Armand’s. Armand’s hands slide down Daniel’s back and land at his waist. Armand kisses Daniel’s chin and neck and then buries his face in Daniel’s chest, burrowing into his sweatshirt.
They stand that for a long time, until the inky black sky outside starts to turn blue. Daniel shifts on his feet, stifling a yawn as the first tendrils of sunrise start to prick at his awareness.
Armand lifts his head and smoothes Daniel’s forehead with his pale fingers. “Stay,” Armand says, so quietly that Daniel almost doesn’t hear it.
Daniel smiles and kisses him again, lightly this time, just the lips. “Of course.”