Maria was surprised to learn their house was further up the current street, and, upon entering, didn't know what to do. She stood before some stairs and looked around; it looked cosy.
"It's not much," Raphael informed putting his hat on the hat stand, "But it's home. And you should be safe here until morning."
Maria nodded, the panic subsiding, and she felt able to take deeper breaths.
The young boy jumped with a sudden realisation, "Anita, we have a guest."
Anita had placed herself at the bottom of the stairs, mid-eye rub. At the mention of a guest she bounced to her feet, "Of course, I'll make some tea."
Maria felt too out of place to object to tea. When the little girl left the hallway, the boy and herself were sent into silence.
Raphael pocketed his hands and rocked on his heels, an awkwardness about him.
Maria didn't lose patience so much as she wanted to snoop.
Snoop was such an ugly phrase, but it was the closest Maria could come to describe it. She wanted to know what kind of people just offered her a place to stay.
She exited the hall and walked into the living room. Raphael followed and turned on the light so she could see. She approached some of the side tables, looking at a black and white photograph of a younger-looking Raphael dressed in a little suit with the biggest smile on his face. Directly next to it was a picture of the little girl with a title which read 'Anita.' But unlike Raphael, she didn't smile.
Maria picked up the frame to have a better look at it.
"Anita's not very photogenic," Raphael admitted as he stood beside her, "The moment she sees a camera she refuses to smile."
"Why?"
Raphael smirked, looking at his own photo and then to Anita's, "We were in the markets one day and an overseas man, I think perhaps the Middle East, was telling stories and myths. One of them was about a culture who believed a camera took a part of your soul and was trapped inside its picture, hence why there's an image." Raphael chuckled. "Anita understands it wasn't true, but she never looked at cameras the same way."
He jumped as if he remembered something.
"In fact," he rummaged through the drawers below the photographs, "The only time I ever got her smiling was for a sketcher." He pulled out some thick paper with a drawing resembling Anita's exact likeness. She was smiling, not a large, toothy grin, but a subtle happy expression.
Maria marvelled at the drawing as she placed the frame back on the dresser.
"Would you like me to take that for you?" he offered, gesturing to the instrument still in Maria's hand. Her grip tightened on the violin's neck, suddenly becoming very protective of it. Raphael nodded and lowered his arm, "Anywhere is safe for it."
He silently dismissed himself and went to the fireplace, kneeling before the ashes and, with much persistence, managed to light a small fire to provide a warm glow to the room. By this time, Maria had sat down on the lounge before it, placing the violin on the coffee table. Raphael sat an entire seat cushion away from her, and the pair just stared into the flames.
"I have tea!" Anita announced coming into the living room. She knelt at the coffee table and placed the tea tray next to the violin. Anita had gotten the 'extremely extra special' tea set, featuring three floral pink china teacups, a matching teapot with steam escaping from the lid, and a basic white bowl full of little cubes of sugar.
Raphael praised Anita as he started pouring some tea.
Conversation became easier between the three, Raphael managed to make Maria laugh, but pleasantries could only last so long before the looming questions started to arise.
"How exactly did those men start chasing you?" Raphael finally asked.
Maria took a staggeringly long sip of her tea, stalling for time to think of an answer.
"I don't know," she confessed genuinely. She recounted being on the street corner where they had initially found her, and how they had chased her an hour or so later.
Raphael remained silent, cutting in every now and then to ask a question, but listened carefully, the focused expression on his face.
"…They chased me until I got to the bridge, and that's when I ran into you two," Maria finished.
"Intéressant…" Raphael cupped his chin between his thumb and forefinger. "And you had never seen them before?"
Maria shook her head, "I'm not from here, you see. I only came a couple of days ago to Paris."
"Could they have followed you?" Raphael quizzed, stopping Anita from putting seven sugar cubes into her tea.
Maria shook her head, but coupled it with a shrug, "I… genuinely don't know," she confessed. "There weren't any knights in my town, not even a castle nor the ruins of a castle." She placed the teacup down with a clink, "There isn't even anyone knighted there, much less followed me here."
"Particulière." Raphael scratched his chin as he continued thinking.
Anita yawned, "Ralphie, you're doing it again." Raphael barely acknowledged her as he continued to think. Anita rubbed her eyes and asked, "Did they say anything to you? Like did they say what they wanted or call you by name or anything of the sort?"
Maria had to think for a moment before shaking her head, "No, they just called me 'girl.'" She recalled something, "They called themselves the Royal Knights or something of that nature."
Raphael hummed, "I doubt they're part of the Royal Cavalry," he informed, he took out his coin and started flicking it in the air, catching everyone's eye as it went up and fell. "They called themselves the Unknown Royals, and mentioned something about unknown royalty." He caught the coin, "Have you ever heard of the Unknown Royals?"
Maria went to speak, but the little girl spoke first as she snuck another sugar cube into her tea to watch it dissolve. "They have nothing to do with art or any history I have looked at."
Raphael turned to Maria, allowing Anita to sneak another two sugar cubes, and asked her directly, "Have you ever heard of them?" he asked.
Maria shook her head also. "I've never even heard that name before this evening, not even in passing."
Raphael could hear Anita stirring her sweetened tea with a petite spoon. "I'm worried," he admitted.
"Why?" Anita asked.
He shook her head, he couldn't place it. "Just… something about the way they spoke, the way they acted. They told us not to mock the army of His Majesty, but we haven't had a proper King since Napoleon," he informed rubbing his temples. "And they threatened us, the way they introduced themselves made them sound like a group, not an army."
Anita snuck another cube into her cup while Raphael had this epiphany.
Maria frowned at Raphael's distress.
"I think they were lying," she informed. Raphael looked to her, Anita's cheeky sugar intake continued. "If what they said was true, I can't imagine anywhere would be safe. I doubt we'd even be here now peacefully. We'd probably be hiding somewhere or still on the move if they had the power to find where you two lived."
That brought Raphael little confidence, but he rubbed his eyes again. "It's too late to try and solve this," he decided, taking a big sip of his tea.
Anita went to do the same but had the cup snatched from her. "Hey!"
"This is more sugar than tea! If you drink this you won't sleep for another three hours," Raphael informed handing her the remaining contents of his own cup.
Anita grumbled but drank the rest of Raphael's tea.
Raphael smiled to Maria, "If you'll please excuse us, I need to get this one off to bed," he glanced at the clock and whistled, "Two in the morning…" he looked to Anita, "Bet the nuns are impressed with us, huh?"
Maria tilted her head as she watched Anita giggle, but soon after yawn.
Anita lazily got to her feet. "Say goodnight to our guest, Ann," he instructed.
She rubbed her eyes again and nodded, "Goodnight, Maria."
Maria hesitated before replying, "Goodnight, Anita."
Anita started walking up the stairs, her footsteps creaking on each step until she was upstairs. Raphael stretched his arms, suppressing a yawn himself. "I'm just going to get her settled. I'll show you somewhere you can sleep when I'm done."
Maria nodded, watching him walk to the stairs and quickly scale them to the upper rooms. She heard muffled words, followed by laughter.
Maria, at first, sat in silence. Attempting to maintain her posture and lady-like manners, but after a few minutes abandoned them to lean against the back of the lounge, the cushions rather comfortable as she continued to slouch alone. Maria felt it improper to leave a guest, no matter how spontaneous, alone in a house. Otherwise, they could do exactly what Maria started doing; snooping.
Maria's strange nosy nature wasn't something she felt she could control, she always felt curious.
She rose from the lounge and walked across the hall into the kitchen, taking the tray and tea set with her so as to have an excuse. The kitchen was an elegant set up of honey brown benchtops, white and black diamond tiles and two small rectangular windows, one over the sink and the other on the door to see the back garden. Maria imagined during the day the kitchen would've been lit up from daylight, noticing the odd patterns making up the window.
Maria placed the china on the counter and opened the fridge, staring at a half-full bottle of milk, an open container of cheese, which she promptly closed properly, and various vegetables. She looked in the freezer and noted some ice-lollies and other frozen goods. The pantry was an entire cupboard on the opposite side of the room, filled with savoury treats, jars of spreads and other yummy goods.
All she got out of it was that her rescuers like biscuits and tea, and dislikes vegetables. Maria couldn't find any fruit.
The kitchen and the living room were the only main rooms, aside from a small cupboard under the stairwell which was filled with cleaning supplies, of interest. Cautiously, she crept up the steps, taking extra care for the stairs not to creak under her weight.
She was met with another hallway with five doors; two on each wall and one at the very end of the hallway. It was bare of any accessories, no house plant, or small table, nor a vase or even a painting on the wall. Simply a green rugged strip with nothing but doors.
Maria could hear Raphael and Anita talking. As she approached one of the doors it got louder. One of the doors was still ajar, leading to a bedroom.
Maria peered through the gap to see slivers of a bedroom. Across from the doorway were closed, white curtains, and a small, marron table with a small stack of books. Maria could just see a dark wood footlocker and the foot of a matching wooden bedframe to the left, and the edges of bookcases and abandoned toys on the ground.
Maria found herself kneeling as she listened to the conversation.
"You all good?" Raphael asked sitting on the edge of Anita's bed.
Anita was lying face down on her dark pink sheets, her voice understandable, but extremely muffled. "I don't want to sleep!"
"Yes, you do."
"No, I don't."
"But your bed is so comfy and your pyjamas so soft." Raphael picked up an old rag bunny lying on the sheets, "And Poppy here is tired too."
Anita lifted her head and glared at him, "Toys don't get tired."
Raphael scoffed as he held Poppy before his face.
"'Se coucher Anita,'" Raphael made the bunny say, "'Je suis tellement fatigué! C'est l'heure du dodo!'"
Anita rolled onto her back, speaking to the bunny in French. "Je n'ai plus huit ans, Poppy."
"Alright," Raphael tossed the bunny onto the pillows, "Then here's why you're going to sleep; you're in your sleeping clothes, you're eleven years old, I'm eighteen, you've brushed your teeth, I've brushed your hair, and it's two in the morning." Raphael and Anita's faces leaned in, noses millimetres from one another.
Neither blinked.
"We have a problem to solve, Anita, and I need you at your best. We have a busy couple of days," Raphael finished, "So you're going to bed, you will sleep, and you shall dream of fantasy unicorns and rainbows and tea parties with the Pope if you so desire. But you will sleep."
Anita grumbled, throwing herself back so she landed on the pillows. Her hands searched blindly for Poppy as she wriggled under the thick blanket. Poppy's head soon stuck out next to Anita's.
Raphael smirked as he tucked her in and gave her a quick kiss on the forehead. He leaned across to her lamp and switched it off, the glow in the room dimming.
Anita yawned, "Do you believe in luck, Raphael?"
Raphael hummed in thought. "At times. I believe luck is something which can change depending on what is going on," Raphael replied. Anita stared at the ceiling in thought. "What about you?"
Anita pressed her lips together and answered. "No."
Raphael snorted"And why's that?"
Anita shrugged, "Luck has too many meanings, and too many people rely on luck when it's just probability. Maths! I don't like maths!"
"You're good at it though," Raphael replied.
"I think luck is just a way for people to justify good things." Anita's eyes started closing, every now and then widening her eyes, attempting to keep conversation. "And by design, bad luck…' -yawn - "exists. But a lot of what people think is bad luck is…" - yawn-"the deliberate action of someone else." Raphael tried to hide his smirk as he listened to Anita's gradually decreasing ability to talk. "Like if I threw a rock at you, it would hit you. There's no doubt about that. And that's deliberate, it was going to happen. So, if it happened, how is that bad luck? It's a bad problem, something bad happening…" She made a long, tear-jerking yawn. She rubbed her eyes and snuggled deeper under her sheets. "Luck is stupid…"
Raphael doubted Anita would remember this random conversation. "Luck brought us together though," he said resting his cheek on his hand as he watched Anita close her eyes.
"Touché…" Her words became airy as she fell asleep, unconsciously rolling over and holding Poppy tighter.
Raphael scoffed as he tucked her in again, made a long yawn himself, and gave her another kiss on the head. "Goodnight, Ann."
He approached the door and stopped a meter away. "I'm about the open the door," he announced, "I don't want to run into you."
Maria gasped as she stood as the door opened and Raphael quietly closed it behind him.
"Anita is a tad stubborn. But distract her long enough and she falls asleep," he informed, "Sorry to keep you waiting, please." He gestured to the opposite side of the hall and pushed open a door. "This is a spare bedroom," he informed, "It's nothing special, but it'll be a place to sleep."
Maria walked through the doorway and smiled. It appeared quite cosy. A large single bed by the door, facing the open window and large desk which sat underneath it. The floor had a large, round, green rug which subtly matched the colour of the walls. It smelt like fabric.
Maria smiled and nodded to Raphael, "It's perfect."
Raphael returned her smile. "Excuse me one moment while I go get some extra bedding," he stated. He pinched the air above his head as if tilting a hat before disappearing down the hallway.
Maria hugged her elbows as she took short steps throughout the room. She examined a footlocker, which a name engraved in the lock being 'Alfred Dane', opened a large wardrobe shown to be empty aside from some wire coat hangers, and opened the drawers in the desk. It was then she noticed someone had stuck a map of the world on the surface of the desk, quite skilfully as it was smooth and without any bubbles.
Raphael returned, holding some green blankets and an item of clothing. "We don't really have any female pyjamas your size," he confessed placing the blankets on the bed, "So I got you a poncho." He held it up to show her, prompting a chuckle from her.
"Why a poncho?" she asked.
He shrugged, "Figured its better than nothing. It's the only looser clothing I have." He refolded it and placed it on the bedding.
"I'm fine," she assured.
Raphael nodded. "Well, I'm in the next room, feel free to open or close the window as you please, you know where the kitchen is, and the bathroom is next to Anita's room. Sweet dreams, Maria." He tipped an invisible hat again and went to leave.
"Is Anita your daughter?" The question burst out of Maria, suddenly not wanting to be alone.
Raphael sighed through his nose, as if exhausted by this question, and shook his head.
"I'm genuinely surprised by how often people ask that," he countered leaning on the frame of the doorway, "Either I look much older than I am, or people really think that low of me." Maria remained silent in response. "No. Anita isn't my daughter, nor my sister. There's no blood relation between us."
"You two seem to get along quite well," she commented.
"I would like to think so," Raphael replied. He glanced down the hallway before continuing, "Anita's an orphan technically, or at least abandoned. I found her a few years ago and we've grown quite attached since then." Maria noticed the sombre look momentarily flash across Raphael's face, and quickly changed the subject.
"So, you didn't adopt her or anything from an orphanage?" she quizzed.
Raphael shook his head. "Not legitimately no."
"She is lucky then," Maria informed, "Not all orphans find someone. Some of them spend their whole lives in an orphanage."
"You're joking." Raphael found the thought terrifying.
Maria nodded, "It's rare, but it happens. The older the kid the less likely people are to adopt them." Maria shook her head, heaving a sigh. "It's sad."
Raphael pressed his lips together before asking, "Has that happened to you?" The moment he asked a look of shock came across his face, "I apologise if I'm out of line, you just seem comfortable talking about it."
Maria paused. She wasn't usually comfortable talking about being an orphan and fell silent at the mention of it.
"I've spent my whole life in the orphan system, but I'm a bit more complicated than most," she decided to elaborate, "I'm happy to see all of my friends growing up getting adopted. Some of them are overseas now."
Raphael's eyes widened, "Sounds frightening."
Maria chuckled, shaking her head. "Not to us. A lot of us would love nothing more than to go overseas." Her eyes sparkled at the idea of it. While her small town was familiar and calm, many of the children loved the idea of being adopted from outside the small town, to go to the city, a different country, across the water. It was the biggest adventure one can have. This idea was often what distracted kids from the realisation that they were orphans, the hope of leaving everything behind and finally being free.
"…When I left many of the boys wanted to travel to Scotland," she stated, shaking her head. "Heaven knows why."
The conversation lulled for a moment. Maria quickly filling the silence. "Are you a music lover?" she asked, "Not many people know violin music by ear."
Raphael's eyes lit up at the mention of it. "Yes, I love music. Unfortunately, I can only play the piano. String instruments haven't ever really agreed with me," he informed, "But I do appreciate when passionate people play. I find that you can tell when someone is forced to learn or play an instrument. Everything seems slightly dull, something is just missing from it, I suppose."
Maria was surprised by how much she agreed with him.
"How did you get into the violin?" Raphael asked.
Maria took a moment to think before answering. "My friend back in my hometown had some sheet music her parents had given her before they passed. We both picked up the violin to understand what it sounded like, I stuck with it all these years later."
"Such a lovely instrument," Raphael stated absently.
"Where did you learn piano?" Anita asked, "I know how to play, not very well however."
Raphael shrugged. "I started learning from my mother was I was little. But unfortunately, she passed, God rest her soul, and my Father wasn't any good at it," He chortled at the thought, "I continued playing so that she was still here, as emotional and sappy as that sounds."
The pair chuckled, Maria defending him. "I don't think it's sappy at all. That's actually quite beautiful."
"I'm glad someone thinks so," Raphael replied between laughs.
"Are you a born Parisian?" Maria asked. Raphael was confused. "As in a local? A Paris born person?"
Raphael tilted his head. "Yeah, I'm a Parisian through and through. Why?"
Maria had been confused about his accent since she had met him. In the snippets of French, she had heard him speak, he sounded like other Parisians, but when he spoke normally his accent was vastly different from locals. A hint of American, at times even English, but certainly not only French. "You sound different," she confessed, "Your accent I mean. I've been hearing the same accent for the past day, but yours is different."
It took Raphael a moment to respond. "My parents were both Parisians, but they had travelled a lot in their youth before settling down in Paris. My Father loved America, I imagine his vocal mannerisms rubbed off on me." He seemed to think hard about this, stating a few phrases to hear the difference. "I've never heard a proper American accent, only French people's imitations."
The pair continued to speak much longer than either had intended. Maria's desire to not be alone and Raphael's enjoyment over talking to someone his own age. But gradually, they fell silent, suddenly unable to talk about anything as each came to a very similar realisation.
"May I have a look at your pendant, please?" Raphael requested holding his hand out.
Maria stared at the ring on his hand, the one which had glowed in the same light as her necklace. "I promise I'll be extra careful with it," Raphael assured, noticing immediately the attachment to it. She sighed through her nose and slipped the jewellery off her head and passed it to him. "Merci."
Raphael examined it closely, noticing immediately the Royal Crest on one side and the beetle symbol on the other. "How did you get something like this?" he asked running his finger over the crest. The Royal Crest symbolised the property of the Royal Family, throughout all of Paris, neighbouring countries and kingdoms this crest represented Paris' Royal Family. There had been debates and historical discussions over the development of royalties' crests to ensure they were all different. To have laypeople use or have a symbol of the Royal Family was either treason or theft.
Maria didn't answer his question. He took out a coin and compared the beetle imprints on both. "This is almost exact…" he muttered.
Maria glanced over his shoulder and saw the similarities. "Do you know what that means?" she asked. She had only ever known the pendant to have the Royal Family Crest on it, nothing else of importance. At least by people's standards.
Raphael hesitated but showed her the coin and the ring. "My Father disappeared a few years ago, leaving behind only this coin with a strange inscription. We later found out this ring had a similar inscription," he explained. "But then you come out of nowhere with a pendant again with the same beetle symbol? And you have people chasing you? Very curious."
After a moment, he handed it back to Maria and dismissed himself. "Such a very exciting day," he commented heaving a short sigh, "But I am tired, and you probably are as well. Goodnight."
Maria made a small waving gesture. "Goodnight."
Raphael began walking, but his hand froze on the doorknob. "Do you actually know why those men were chasing you, Maria?" he asked. His body language became rigid, even under his coat.
"I don't," she assured.
He sighed again, appearing to relax as he glanced over his shoulder. "I just don't want to put Anita under any unnecessary danger." He paused before smirking, finding something amusing he didn't disclose to Maria. "We are interested in helping you, Maria. If you'll let us."
Maria glanced at the pendant in her hands. "Thank you, I appreciate that, Raphael."
He waved himself away.
"Goodnight." They both repeated.