Madeleine-Antoinette wakes early, before the sun has set all the way. She performs her ablutions mechanically, rubbing Christopher’s dried blood from her skin in strokes evocative of last night’s. There is still a little bit of blood around her cuticles – she nearly scrubs them off to be rid of it all.

By the time she is done, the sun has set. She makes a phone call to Etienne’s haven where there is no answer, but this is not unusual. She refuses to worry about it, but likewise refuses to call Christopher until she has either heard from Etienne or it has gotten late enough to be reasonably worried.

She buries herself in work. Accounts that need to be monitored, inventory that needs to be moved. She opens the curtains in the library to watch Sao Paulo light up and sometime later, Roberto comes in with a letter and a glass of wine. He leaves them both in front of her and it takes her a moment to focus on what it is that he has brought. She picks up the letter with her name scrawled across the envelope in Etienne’s hand.

She knows what’s in the letter without even opening it. She doesn’t want to see it, doesn’t want to read it, but she opens it anyway, skims the text, then gives it the full measure of her attention. The third time through, she begins to understand. The fourth, she begins to cry.

Etienne is gone, gone to travel, gone to find himself. He doesn’t tell her where, but she can make some suppositions. It matters little. Her childe has left the nest, the spare shelter she was able to provide him.

It is best, she decides, even as she reaches for the phone on her desk. Tribulation brings enlightenment.