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Gideon stood slowlyfrom his chair, seething in rage. If he could ignite Leopold where he stood, he would have done so. Sadly, that was not his gift. Even if he did have plenty of other means of murdering the boy.

He was meant to be dead and gone. And now, on the eve of my wedding day? How dare he! Gideon’s fists clenched at his sides as he glowered at the other man, his teeth bared in a silent snarl.

“Demon. Monster! Fiend.” Leopold stepped farther into the room and pulled his sword from his sheath.

“You accuse my advisor of a great many things,” Catherine interrupted the exchange harshly. “What proof have you, bastard son of the man who murdered my husband?”

“We were not two miles from the jousting grounds when my father turned on me with a knife, your majesty.” Leopold motioned to the bloody bandage wrapped around his side. “After I bested him, he called that bastard master and told me, as tears welled in his eyes, that he did not wish to do the deed but that he had no choice.”

“And what about that statement makes this man a necromancer, and not merely convincing?” Catherine arched an eyebrow.

“For no matter how many times I ran him through with my blade, he would not die. And…” He winced. “Because my father told me of these things after I had cut his head from his shoulders.” His gaze flicked to Marguerite, concern flashing over him instantly. “Marguerite—”

“Leo!” His future bride moved to join her friend.

He caught her wrist before she could escape and yanked her back to his side. “Lies,” Gideon huffed. “The fanciful tales of a jealous man who abandoned his fiancée and now finds himself sorely lacking. You seek to blacken my reputation merely to have her back.”

“I agree with Dr. Faust. Begone, Leopold. You are no longer welcome here.” Catherine gestured to dismiss him.

When one of the guards stepped forward, Leopold turned and growled at the man. “You know I could kill you where you stand, Bernard.”

The guard in question took a step back.

Marguerite tugged on her wrist in his grasp. “Let me go, Johann. Let me speak with him.”

“You will be silent,” he snapped at her without intending to. She jerked in shock at his harsh tone and looked up at him in fear and uncertainty. Checking his anger, he sighed. “He is delusional. He could be dangerous.”

“He’s my best friend…please, Johann.”

His jaw ticked. He wanted to give her whatever she wished for. If she begged for the moon, he would find a way to pluck it from the heavens. But this? This, he could not allow. “No. You are to be my wife. I will not risk him abducting you.”

“Let her go, you monster!” Leopold took another step forward, his sword gripped tightly in his hand. “Or I will kill you where you stand.”

“You would not escape this palace alive, boy.” Catherine chuckled. “What do you hope to prove?”

“I do not need to escape alive. I merely need to kill him.” Leopold squared his shoulders. “Face me, necromancer.”

“What?” He arched an eyebrow at the other man. “Are you jesting?”

“No. I challenge you to a duel to the death.”

“Leave here, boy.” Gideon sneered. “I will not waste my time with you. I have no desire to kill you this night.”

“You will not have to worry about that. I hereby challenge you, and your honor, to a fight to the death, necromancer.”

“No—” Marguerite tugged on her wrist again. “Do not do this. Please, both of you—do not do this!”

Gideon laughed, and with a small shove that was perhaps harder than he intended, he pushed Marguerite back into her chair and faced the brave fool who had signed his own death warrant. “Very well, boy. I accept your challenge.”

Catherine sighed and shook her head. “Do it outside. Do not ruin my floors.”

“No! You cannot do this. Leopold, leave—go—I am all right. Please, leave me here.”

“Never.” The younger man shook his head, turning his attention to Marguerite. His expression grew mournful and sad. “You are my best friend in this world, and without you, I fear I will not know what to do with myself. I will rescue you from this demon and send him back to the pits where he belongs.”

“Demon.” Gideon chuckled. “You know not of which you speak.”


Tags: Kathryn Ann Kingsley Memento Mori Fantasy