Unmasqued

He backed away, back toward the rooms where he'd composed music, where they'd made love… where she'd removed his mask for the first time… "Christine, I will come for you. I will come. Never give up on me."

And he was gone.

Part II: The Prisoner at Chateau de'Chagny

Chapter Seventeen

"You shall find it quite comfortable here," Raoul told her. "You shall have everything you need or want." Everything except for Erik.

Christine walked numbly into her room at Chateau de Chagny. She was still dressed in her Scheherazade costume from earlier that night. Or perhaps it was from the night before; she had no concept of time anymore.

Only that she had let Erik go.

It had been to save his life. But she had let him go.

I shall come for you.

Those words, the stricken expression in his eyes that had given way to determination, had burned into her memory during the last… hours… half a day… however long it had been since she'd been hustled from the depths of the Opera House to this opulent estate. It hadn't been a long ride from Paris, well less than half a day.

She had cried silently in a corner of their carriage and spent most of the journey in a half-sleeping, half-waking stupor, while Philippe and Raoul conversed quietly.

She'd been sleeping when they turned into the drive of the estate, and woke only when the carriage jerked to a halt and the shouts of servants greeted her ears. She had the impression of a large building made of gray brick, flush with windows across its square, imposing facade, and a large expanse of lawn, but little else. She was too numb.

The interior of the chateau was nearly as opulent and ornate as the Opera House. She noticed gilt furnishings, high, mirrored hallways, and thick rugs as Raoul ushered her up to her chamber.

Through it all, she could comfort herself with the fact that at least the comte had kept his word and allowed Erik to go free. While Raoul had kept Christine hidden as she dressed, Philippe had met the raging mob that had come for Erik.

"He has gone. Escaped," the comte told them. Even from where she watched through a crack in the wall, Christine could see the murderous rage on their faces. The flickering of the torches they carried, and the glint and gleam of pistols and swords. She shivered, glad that she had made the decision to save Erik from them.

It had been the right decision.

She watched through the crack when the comte

really did send them off in a different direction from the one Erik had gone. And only then had she allowed her shoulders to slump from their drawn-up tension, and her eyes to close in relief.

Erik would be safe.

"And you," the comte had said, thrusting his face into hers after the mob had left, "shall be very grateful to me for saving the life of your horrific lover. I shall make quite certain of your gratitude, Miss Daae. Or perhaps I may be permitted to call you Christine?"

The glitter in his eyes made her stomach roil, and Christine found herself pressing back into Raoul's arms, where he'd held her still and quiet. She could stomach the younger brothers touch, but never the comte's. Never.

Now, as she looked vaguely at the sumptuous room at Chateau de Chagny into which she'd been led, Christine heard the door close behind her. She turned and found that she and Raoul were alone.

"Christine… you must understand. It is for your own good." He stepped toward her; his handsome face earnest yet determined.

"My own good?" She managed to form the words even as bitterness swelled inside her.

"You had no future with… Erik. He would keep you prisoner; he would keep you hidden away. You could never see the light of day, interact with people, or drive in a carriage. You would be destined to darkness and subterfuge. Here… here you will be cared for, in comfort."

"For the pleasure of your brother? You heard his threats!"

"No, he said those things only to drive Erik away. No, Christine, no… you are here because I love you. Philippe has nothing to do with this. In time you will forget that-that beast, and come to realize that you belong with me."

Christine stared at him, his image going blurry as tears filled her eyes. "I love Erik. He is my life! I cannot be happy here, without him."

Raoul's hands seized her shoulders, dragging her up against his body. "Don't say that," he said fiercely, his face close to hers. His words fanned hot over her lips. "You are so beautiful, so perfect and pure… you cannot love a man such as he." Shaking, he pulled her closer, covering her mouth, wet with salty tears, kissing her deeply.

Christine sagged in his arms, twisting to pull her mouth away. "Raoul, no."

"Christine," he said at last, when she'd freed her lips. "Trust me. You will come to thank me in time. You will realize that I was right to help you escape from him. You belong with me. I love you. I will take care of you."