“Sneak into my bedchambers?” she interrupted him angrily.
“I did not sneak. You fainted, and I took you to rest and ensure that you were well. Several servants witnessed me bring you here. Do you think I can walk through walls?” He chuckled. “Novel as that would be.”
Not through the wall itself, but cracks are so horribly pervasive. Best not get caught up in the details.
The frown on her expression was priceless. “And they just let you carry me off?”
“Phys—”
“Yes! Yes. As you have said.” She paused. “What do you want, Faust?”
“Your hand in marriage. I was not being coy. Perhaps I should have been, in retrospect.”
Her jaw twitched as she glared at him. “No. I do not accept.”
It was not an unexpected response. But he was a shrewd politician. “What for? We have only just met. Please, let us look upon the past hour with humor, and take it as a sign of my devotion to you that I achieved such a remarkable misstep. I have glimpsed you here in the palace, and I have found I cannot think of anything else when you are near.”
There was the pink tone to her cheeks. He placed a hand over his chest. “I do not ask you to accept my offer barely knowing my name. Merely to allow me a chance to know you, woo you, and perhaps—if I am lucky—win you.”
Please, Marguerite…
She wavered, and his heart hitched on a single thread of hope. But it shattered as she shook her head. “You misunderstand. I have promised my hand to another.”
Hatred welled in him like an unexpected slice of lightning through the sky. Darkness coiled up, freed by this revelation, and he felt his power itching at the back of his mind, wild and untamed. For nearly nine hundred years he had been undead, and he still struggled to master the urge to feed death a thousand souls in lieu of his own.
“Please, reconsider.” His words were desperate, but his tone was seething and echoed with malice. Marguerite took a step back, her eyes going wide at the new danger he posed. “I will be a good husband, my princess. Devoted, gentle, and kind. No one will care for you the way that I may tend your needs. The world will be at your feet—all knowledge you wish for shall be yours. You will be free. You will be loved.”
“I—I am sorry, forgive me. It is not that I think you do not mean the words you say, but—” She shook her head again, edging around the bed to place the piece of furniture between them. “I cannot break my vow.”
The window of opportunity slammed shut in his face. There would be no path forward this way.
Standing slowly, he watched her with equal parts heartache, anger, and remorse. He bowed. “I appreciate your time, Marguerite. And I apologize once more for frightening you.”
Without another word, he left, shutting the door behind him. He pulled the hood of his cloak over his head as he loosed the reins on his rage. This was a setback, but not a defeat. She would be his.
Without question, she would be his.
It just means that first…someone has to die.
* * *
Marguerite knockedon the door to her father’s library. When she heard his quiet call for her to enter, she stepped inside. She was nervous, although she did not quite know why.
Because an eerie and frightening alchemist has made his intentions very clear—and while he may have backed away last night, I do not believe he has given up in the slightest. She smiled warily at her father as he looked up from his desk.
“Ah, dear heart.” He put his quill down in the holder and turned to her, smiling broadly. “I heard you had a spell last night. Are you well?”
“Yes, I think the wine went to my head. Too little dinner, and too much dancing.” It was a lie. She had not tasted a drop of the substance the entire evening. But there was no point in troubling her father with the propositions of a man who very well may be insane, if the entire situation could be avoided.
“I am glad to hear it.” He stood from his desk, and with a groan, arched his back. “Come, sit, tell me what troubles you.” Gesturing to a cushioned bench by the wall, he ushered her over to it.
“How do you know something is troubling me?”
“A father always knows.” He smiled to her as he sat, patting the surface next to him. “And you wear your very soul on your sleeve. Come.”
She joined him and chewed her lip for a moment before she committed to her decision. “Father, I think it is time I am married.”
“Oh, is it now?” He chuckled. “Has a man finally caught your eye? It was not our queen’s newest acquaintance, is it? I saw you dance with him last night.”