Dreams of the Necromancer (Memento Mori 2)

Then came the words he never would have expected from her. Five words that destroyed him just as effectively as if she had cast herself into the arms of Death for the final time. Emerald eyes turned up to him, and in words barely loud enough to be heard, she ripped his heart from his chest. There would be no shadowy part of himself that was not put in the light of day. No shame that he could keep unexposed. No. She would have it all from him.

Five words. That was all it took.

“Did you keep the rings?”

* * *

Gideon recoiled in pain.His face contorted in agony as he turned from her. He shook his head. He wasn’t saying no, but instead begging her not to do this to him. Maggie frowned. She didn’t want to hurt him—even after leaning what he’d really done to her—but she had no choice.

“You know enough to kill me. Make your choice. You needn’t dredge up more of my foolish, selfish, destructive egotism.” His voice was a ragged whisper. His fists were clenched at his sides.

“I have a right to know it all before the end.” She tried to be strong. She really did. But it felt like she was alone in a field in a thunderstorm. She was the tallest object around, and every rumble over her head was one more roll of the dice. All she wanted to do was cower and cry. To weep about the fact that her soul had been forcefully joined with his.

I care deeply about him. It feels right to be with him. I’m happy when we’re together. How much of that is fake? How much of that is a lie? How much of it has been forced on me? All of it? None of it? “I need to know.”

His back was still to her as he put his hands over his face. “Please, Marguerite,” he begged piteously.

“No, Gideon.” She would compel him if she had to. “You are going to answer me. Did you keep the rings?”

He shuddered, his muscles tensing and releasing in waves, as if he were battling whatever strange power she had over him. But in the end, it was pointless. “Yes…”

“Go get them.”

It was as though every step hurt him. As if each footfall out of the room was a step closer to oblivion. She could see the tears streaking his face again, and she felt her own start to flow in her heartache.

A few moments later, he returned, a small jewelry box clenched in his fist. He placed it on the table in front of her then retreated to collapse back into his chair.

Opening the box, she looked down to see two simple rings. One was meant for a man, the wide silver band tarnished and discolored. The other was gold, with a single emerald embedded in the center.

The thin band of gold rolled across the floor, bouncing a few times before skittering along on its edge like a coin. Its path was ended abruptly as a dark boot flattened it to the stones.

A whisper of dark fabric.

“Marguerite—wait!”

The stone crenellations on the balcony dug into her palms. She could feel the grit as the edges of the blocks jabbed into the cuts on her hands. She had been running away from someone. Standing on the edge, she turned to look in horror at the man who had been chasing her. Dark robes swirled around him. Only his silhouette was visible, cut out against the firelight of the torches behind him.

He reached for her.

She let herself fall backward into the darkness.

Indigo wool fabric whipped in the wind as the world rushed past her. Someone screamed her name, but it was too late. Hewn stone walls of the castle exterior turned to rough, jagged cliffs.

And then the impact came.

A question burnedin her like wildfire. She knew the answer. She was apparently utterly clueless, but nobody could be that dense, not even her. It was staring her in the face, screaming so loudly it drowned everything else out. But she had to ask the question anyway. She had to. She needed to hear it from him. “Gideon?”

Silence.

“Am I your wife?”

A pained, hoarse, single syllable was all she received in reply.

“Yes…”

It was as though a bucket of cold water had been dumped on her. Everything went from too hot to freezing in one wrenching moment. It made her lightheaded, and she had to sit again before her knees gave out on her. She stared down at the rings.

Long ago, they had been married.