11
Marguerite froze.She had heard Leopold speak her name, whispered as it were. Oh, God above, I have summoned the dead! She shivered despite herself. “C—can I open my eyes?”
“Yes, my princess…yes, you may.” Gideon’s voice was thick and strange, and yet layered heavily with awe. But she could not think much of it. She had summoned the dead.
Blinking her eyes open, she gasped and took a step back, nearly leaving the circle. There, in front of her, was Leopold. In a manner.
He was translucent. She could see straight through him. He was as she remembered him—there was no terrible wound that bisected his throat. He was not covered in blood. He was there, but he was also…not.
She reached out to him, and he did the same in return. But her hand passed uselessly through his. Tears sprang to her eyes. “I wish I could hold you.”
Leopold smiled sadly and shrugged a broad shoulder.
“Oh, Leopold.” She stepped toward him, and for all the world, wanted to take him in her arms. “I am so very, very sorry.”
“It is not your fault. It is his.” The last word was spoken with so much seething rage, she nearly recoiled. He pointed a ghastly, transparent finger at Gideon. Leopold turned to glare at the necromancer, his face twisted in rage. “Demon! Monster! Your black arts—”
“Yes, yes. I have heard it all before.” Gideon gestured his hand dismissively. “And now your dear friend—my wife—has committed the same. She is the one who summoned you, not I.”
Leopold turned now to look at her, eyes wide in horror. “Say he lies, Marguerite. Say it.”
“I—” She blinked and felt the sudden shame crawl over her.
When she could not answer him, Leopold shook his head and grimaced in disgust. “He has corrupted you…”
“No! I—I just—I wanted to see you, to talk to you, to say—” Tears were streaming down her cheeks again. “To say that I miss you, and I love you, and I am so very sorry…”
Leopold reached out to comfort her, but his hands passed through her like he was made of nothing but smoke. Turning his head to the necromancer, he glared at Gideon. “Leave.”
“Pardon?” Gideon arched an eyebrow in response. “You jest.”
“Leave us. Let this be private. You have defiled us both enough. Let us have a moment’s peace without you.”
“You think to command me, in my own home?” He let out a bark of a laugh. “You are nothing more than wisp, and you—”
“Please,” she cut him off. “It will be but a moment.”
Annoyance and anger flashed over him—and she recognized instantly a dark jealousy in his silver eyes. But he relented, nodded once, and stormed from the room. “Two minutes.” She flinched as he slammed the wood slab behind him.
“Marguerite—you cannot trust him. He killed me!”
“I know, I—I do, but I had no choice. It was that or be married to some violent lunatic.” She shook her head. “The queen sought to levy revenge against me, for that I was the reminder of my father’s infidelity toward her. Gideon is—he is kind.”
“Gideon?”
“Another lie…”She shut her eyes and wished she could hold Leopold with every ounce of her soul. But that was magic she did not possess. “I do not think he means to harm me. I think he truly does love me.”
“He is not human, Marguerite.”
“What?” She looked up at him then, her brow furrowed. “What do you mean?”
“I stabbed him. I sank my knife into his gut to the hilt. He should have died.” Ghastly hands hovered near her shoulders, but he did not close the distance between them. There was no point. “He is not a mortal man. Some black magic has corrupted his form. You must run from here—you must escape him.”
“To where? Where would I go?” She shook her head. “I am alone in this world.”
“It does not matter. Anywhere that he is not. He is a monster, Marguerite—one of a making I do not know. But he should be dead. He should be in the grave, not I…”Agony etched into his features, a desperate grief. “I tried to save you from him. I failed you.”
“No, no—my friend, you have done no such thing. You did not fail. Please, do not believe so. You laid down your life for me.”