The morning of December 31 arrived with a heavy layer of frost covering the windowpanes. Nimue woke to pale, watery gray light and the soft sound of Cinder sneezing on the pillow beside her.
She pushed herself upright and rubbed the sleep from her eyes before turning toward the window. Her breath had frozen against the glass overnight, leaving delicate patterns of ice that resembled tiny, frozen forests. When she touched one of the icy branches with her fingertip, it melted instantly, leaving a clear smudge on the cold pane.
Jane was already in the kitchen, her hair neatly pinned up and a fresh, crusty baguette resting on the wooden cutting board. The stove was lit, and a pot of coffee steamed on the burner, filling the small apartment with its rich, roasted aroma. Jack sat at the table with a ceramic cup in his hands. His black hair, marked by the distinctive white streak of the Keith family, was still untidy from sleep.
"Maman. " Nimue padded into the room in her knitted socks. "Is today the last day?"
"Yes. The last day of the year," Jane turned from the counter and smiled at her daughter. "Tonight, we will say goodbye to this year, and tomorrow, a new one will begin."
Nimue climbed onto a wooden chair and looked out the window. The sky was the same dull, leaden gray it had been for weeks, but the light seemed different to her. Sharper, perhaps, or maybe it simply felt new.
"Is big sister coming?"
"Yes. With her parents. They will be here at eleven.
Nimue nodded, satisfied, and reached for a thick slice of bread.
. . .
The doorbell rang at exactly eleven.
Nimue was already halfway across the room before anyone else could move. She reached for the handle, but Jane managed to cover her hand just in time.
"Let me open it, ma chérie."
Jane opened the door to reveal a man standing in the hallway.
He was tall, even taller than Jack, with broad shoulders and dark hair that curled slightly at his collar. His eyes were a warm brown, and his kind face was marked by deep laugh lines at the corners. He wore a long charcoal wool coat over a deep blue scarf and carried a bottle of wine in one hand and a small, wrapped box in the other.
Behind him stood a woman with shimmering silver-blonde hair and sea-blue eyes. She smiled warmly at them. She was beautiful in much the same way Fleur was, with the same pale skin and delicate features. Her graceful posture made the narrow stairwell seem even smaller. She wore a cream-colored coat and elegant leather gloves.
Fleur stood between her parents, her blonde hair falling loosely over her shoulders. She wore a dress Nimue had never seen before, made of dark green fabric with a crisp white collar. Her leather boots had been polished until they shone.
« Jane, » the woman greeted her, stepping forward with a graceful smile. « Merci de nous recevoir. »
(Thank you for having us.)
« Apolline. » Jane stepped aside and gestured for the family to come in. « Entrez. Ce n'est pas grand, mais on se débrouille. »
(Come in. It isn't very big, but we manage.)
Apolline laughed, her voice light and melodic, like wind chimes in a garden.
« C'est parfait. Nous ne voulions pas passer le réveillon seuls. »
(It's perfect. We didn't want to spend New Year's Eve alone.)
The man stepped forward and offered his hand to Jack.
« Philippe. Enchanté. »
(Philippe. Pleased to meet you.)
Jack shook it firmly.
« Jack. Bienvenue. »
(Jack. Welcome.)
Nimue hadn't moved from her place near the door. She was looking up at Apolline with wide, curious green eyes.
Apolline noticed her and smiled warmly.
« Tu dois être Nimue. Fleur n'arrête pas de parler de toi. »
(You must be Nimue. Fleur never stops talking about you.)
Nimue glanced at Fleur. The older girl's ears had turned a deep shade of pink.
« Grande sœur Fleur. » Nimue then turned her attention back to Apolline. « Ta fille est belle. »
(Big sister Fleur. Your daughter is beautiful.)
Apolline's eyebrows rose in surprise. Beside her, Philippe let out a small, amused laugh.
« Merci, » Apolline replied, quickly recovering. « Elle tient ça de son père. »
(Thank you. She gets that from her father.)
Philippe shook his head, his expression full of affection.
« Ne la crois pas. C'est elle la belle. »
(Don't believe her. She is the beautiful one.)
Jane ushered everyone toward the sitting room. She had tidied it carefully, fluffing the pillows and moving the Christmas tree slightly to make more space.
Even so, it was a tight fit for so many people. Saoirse gave up her place on the sofa and stood by the window, while Fleur sat cross-legged on the floor near the tree. Nimue settled right beside her, close enough for their shoulders to touch.
Apolline took the armchair, and Philippe sat on its arm, resting one hand naturally on his wife's shoulder. Jane brought them glasses of wine while Jack passed around a plate of biscuits.
« Alors, » Apolline began, looking around the cozy room. « Vous êtes à Paris pour quelques semaines? »
(So, are you in Paris for a few weeks?)
Jane nodded.
« Nous repartons juste après le Nouvel An. Le six janvier. »
(We are leaving just after New Year's. On January sixth.)
« Si tôt. » Apolline's gaze moved from Fleur to Nimue. « Fleur serait ravie de passer plus de temps avec ta fille. Elle n'a pas beaucoup d'amies de son âge. »
(So soon. Fleur would be delighted to spend more time with your daughter. She doesn't have many friends her age.)
« Nous non plus, » Jane admitted. « Nimue n'a rencontré d'autres enfants que cette année. C'est la première fois qu'elle voyage. »
(Neither does Nimue. She has only met other children this year. This is her first time traveling.)
Philippe leaned forward, looking curious.
« Et comment trouve-t-elle Paris? »
(And how is she finding Paris?)
Nimue answered before her mother could.
« Il y a des poneys. Et des lumières. Et des bateaux sur l'eau. »
(There are ponies. And lights. And boats on the water.)
Philippe smiled at her.
« Tu as tout vu, on dirait. »
(It seems you have seen everything.)
« Presque, » Nimue replied. « Il me manque la tour. »
(Almost. I'm still missing the tower.)
« La tour Eiffel? » Philippe asked.
(The Eiffel Tower?)
« Oui. On y va ce soir? »
(Yes. Are we going there tonight?)
Apolline glanced at Jane, who gave a slight shake of her head.
« Pas ce soir, ma chérie, » Jane explained. « Ce soir, on va à un hôtel. Il y aura un dîner et des feux d'artifice. »
(Not tonight, darling. Tonight, we are going to a hotel. There will be dinner and fireworks.)
Nimue considered this for a moment.
« Des feux d'artifice? »
(Fireworks?)
« Oui. Dans le ciel. Avec des couleurs. »
(Yes. In the sky. With colors.)
« Comme la magie? »
(Like magic?)
« Un peu. »
(A little.)
Nimue nodded, then turned back to Fleur.
« Tu viens? »
(Are you coming?)
Fleur glanced at her mother, who smiled.
« Bien sûr. Nous venons tous. »
(Of course. We are all coming.)
The conversation continued comfortably. Apolline and Jane attended Beauxbâtons, though in different years. Apolline had been two years ahead of Jane.
They exchanged the names of professors they had loved and loathed, while Philippe occasionally joined in with comments about his own schooling at a smaller academy in Lyon.
Jack asked Philippe about his work, and the Frenchman explained that he was a charmeur, an enchanter who specialized in protective enchantments for buildings. He had worked on several historical sites in Paris, including parts of the Louvre.
« Un travail fascinant, » Jack remarked.
(Fascinating work.)
« Parfois. Parfois, c'est juste poussiéreux. »
(Sometimes. Sometimes, it's just dusty.)
Nimue had stopped paying attention to the adults. She had taken Fleur's hand and was tracing its lines with a single finger, following the creases in her palm.
« Qu'est-ce que tu fais? » Fleur whispered.
(What are you doing?)
« Je regarde. »
(I'm looking.)
« Pour quoi? »
(For what?)
« Je ne sais pas encore. »
(I don't know yet.)
Fleur didn't pull her hand away. She simply watched Nimue's finger move slowly across her palm. Cinder wandered over and sniffed Fleur's other hand. When she scratched behind his ears, the fox's amber eyes half-closed in contentment.
Apolline noticed them and smiled.
« Elles s'entendent bien. »
(They get along well.)
Jane followed her gaze.
« Oui. C'est... nouveau. » (Yes. It's... new.)
« Nouveau? » (New?)
« Nimue n'a jamais été aussi... attachée à quelqu'un d'aussi vite. »
(Nimue has never become so... attached to someone so quickly.)
Apolline's smile softened.
« Fleur non plus. Elle parle de ta fille tout le temps. À la maison, à table, à son tuteur. »
(Fleur either. She talks about your daughter all the time. At home, at the dinner table, and to her tutor.)
Jane looked toward the girls. Fleur was now showing Nimue how to make a rabbit-shaped shadow puppet with her hands against the wallpaper.
« Je n'ai jamais vu ça chez elle, » Apolline added quietly. « Cette douceur et cette patience. »
(I have never seen this side of her before. This gentleness and patience.)
Jane didn't answer. She watched Nimue trace the rabbit's shadow across the wall and Fleur laugh when its ears came out crooked.
A knock at the door announced the arrival of the chauffeur. He was a tall man wearing a dark coat, with hair beginning to turn gray at the temples. He exchanged a few quick words with Jane in French.
« La voiture est là, » Jane announced.
(The car is here.)
Everyone began gathering their coats and scarves.
Nimue helped Fleur wrap her red scarf, standing on her tiptoes to loop it around the older girl's neck. Fleur bent down to make the task easier.
« Merci, petite. »
« Je ne suis pas petite. Je suis moyenne. »
(I'm not little. I'm average.)
Fleur laughed and took her hand as they headed into the hallway.
The car was a long black sedan with leather seats that smelled of polish and something floral. Nimue sat between Fleur and Jane, with Cinder in her lap.
The fox pressed his nose against the window, watching the city slide past. Apolline and Philippe sat opposite them, facing backward. Jack took the front passenger seat, while Saoirse squeezed in beside Philippe, her knees pressed against the door.
Paris was already dark, and the streetlights cast a warm orange glow over the streets. Light spilled from apartment windows and shops onto the wet pavement. A light rain had begun to fall, blurring the city into soft, glowing colors.
« Où allons-nous? » Nimue asked. (Where are we going?)
« À l'hôtel Meurice, » Jane replied. « C'est un très bel hôtel. Très vieux et chic. »
(To the Meurice hotel. It's a very beautiful hotel. Very old and elegant.)
Philippe turned toward Nimue.
« Nimue a dit qu'elle voulait voir la tour Eiffel. On la verra de l'hôtel. Elle est toute proche. »
(Nimue said she wanted to see the Eiffel Tower. We will be able to see it from the hotel. It's very close.)
Nimue looked out the window, searching the dark sky, but the tower remained hidden behind the buildings.
. . . .
Le Meurice stood on Rue de Rivoli, its pale stone facade glowing beneath the streetlights. A doorman in a long coat and top hat opened the car door, letting in a rush of sharp winter air.
Jane stepped out first, followed by Jack and then Nimue, who still had Cinder in her arms. The fox looked up at the grand hotel, his nose twitching as he took in the unfamiliar scents of beeswax and perfume.
Nimue stepped onto the red carpet and looked up. The hotel was enormous. It wasn't as tall as some of the buildings she had seen in the city center, but it was wider and far grander, with rows of windows and iron balconies. Flags fluttered above the entrance in the breeze.
« C'est grand, » she said.
« C'est vieux, » Jane replied, taking her hand. « Mais très confortable. Attends de voir l'intérieur. »
(It's old. But very comfortable. Just wait until you see the inside.)
The lobby was filled with marble and gold. Chandeliers hung from the ceiling, their light scattering across the polished floor like fallen stars.
A grand staircase curved upward, and flowers decorated the room. White roses, red amaryllis, and sprigs of evergreen were tied together with gold ribbons.
Nimue stopped walking, her mouth parting slightly in awe. Fleur stopped beside her.
« Impressionnant, non? »
(Impressive, isn't it?)
Nimue nodded, unable to take her eyes off the glittering ceiling.
Jane approached the reception desk, where the man behind it recognized her immediately. His posture straightened, and he greeted her as "Madame Keith" with a warmth that suggested more than ordinary politeness.
« Bonsoir, Madame Keith. Vos chambres sont prêtes. » He slid two key cards across the counter. « Deux chambres communicantes, au quatrième étage. Vue sur la rue. »
(Good evening, Mrs. Keith. Your rooms are ready. Two connecting rooms on the fourth floor, overlooking the street.)
Jane nodded.
« Merci, Henri. Les bagages arriveront dans la soirée. »
(Thank you, Henri. The luggage will arrive this evening.)
She handed one card to Jack and kept the other. Then they headed toward the elevators, their footsteps muffled by the thick carpet.
Nimue tugged at her mother's sleeve.
"Maman. How did you get this room?"
Jane knelt so that her green eyes were level with Nimue's.
"The hotel belongs to the Evans family. It has for a very long time. Your grandmother gave me the keys."
Nimue looked at the chandeliers, marble floors, and gold trim on the walls with a new perspective.
"Are we rich?"
Jane smiled.
"Oui, ma chérie. We are rich."
Nimue nodded, accepting this as another fact to remember, then turned to look for Fleur. She tugged at the older girl's sleeve.
« Tu dors dans la chambre à côté? »
(Are you sleeping in the room next door?)
« Oui. Avec mes parents. »
(Yes. With my parents.)
« On peut ouvrir la porte entre les deux? » Nimue asked hopefully.
(Can we open the door between the two rooms?)
« Je pense que oui. » (I think so.) Fleur replied.
Nimue nodded, thoroughly satisfied with the arrangement.
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