When she did not answer, he growled and shifted his form to that of his true self. He slipped under the locked door, oozing through the cracks, until he loomed on the other side.
Rage overcame him like a flash of lightning, sudden and unexpected.
Marguerite stood in the center of a white chalk circle. He knew the symbol by heart, and it seemed so did she. She was weeping, tears once more streaking down her face unchecked. She was trembling, her eyes wide, and she looked on the edge of a mental break.
But that was not why he was angry.
It was the spectral form of the man who stood beside her. A man who was dead and gone. Or at least—he should have been gone.
Instantly, he knew what had happened. Instantly, he knew why Marguerite was so very upset.
“How dare you.” The words left him before he could stop them from issuing forth.
The glass in the room cracked and shattered.
She winced at the sound of his voice that she could not hear, but that resonated through her soul. He expected Marguerite to scream. Perhaps to faint. But once more, he underestimated her. She flew to a nearby table, picked up a small letter opener, and brandished it at him like a dagger. “Stay away from me!”
“The truth is told,” the ghost of King Henri the Second said, sneering at him. “She knows what you have done. She knows it all. Your truth is laid bare, monster…and now you shall reap what you have sown.”
With the gesture of a large black claw, the ghost was sent back to the ether from which it had come. He would hear no more from the king, and neither would Marguerite. He would have his revenge, but now was not the time.
Shifting back to his mortal form, he stepped toward his wife. “Marguerite—”
“No more. No closer.” She retreated another step, inching toward the door that led to a balcony. They were on the fourth floor, near to the top, and on the side of the cliff on which the castle stood. There was no escape for her.
Lifting his hands to show that he meant no harm, he took another step toward her, ignoring her plea. “Marguerite, calm down, we may speak of this in—”
He froze as she turned the sharp knife on herself, pressing the tip to her throat.
“I said no more.”
That time, he listened.
* * *
She sawfear in his eyes as she pressed the knife to her throat. True fear. “You cannot mend me if I die.” She laughed, sickly amused by the concept. “You do not wish me dead.”
“No. Of course not.”
“Would it not be easier? To take my life, like you did Leopold’s father, and then command me like one of your revenants? Father told me what Gabriel de Lorges whispered to him as he lay crumpled on the field of the jousting tournament. How you commanded de Lorges to strike a fatal blow against him.” Her hand shook, but she gripped the knife tighter to keep it from trembling. “You could do the same to me. Command me to love you.”
He shook his head, agony creasing his features. “Marguerite…no. I would never do such a thing. I do not want a servant—I do not want a pet. I want you, as you are. By my side.”
“And you would do anything to have it.” She took another step away from him. “Anything at all. You would murder a village. You would murder my best friend. You would murder my father. You killed him so that you could convince Catherine to have us wed.”
Gideon’s hands balled into fists at his sides, clenching tightly enough that his knuckles went white, before something in him surrendered, and they released. “Yes. I would kill anyone, destroy anything, if it meant I could have you.”
“You destroyed my life!”
“What life?” He laughed. “A half-daughter of a naïve king? Please. I am offering you everything you could ever want, and my undying love. The life I took you from had no future. No happiness. You would have married Leopold and died loveless.”
“Loveless?” She shouted the word, not believing what she was hearing. “You think the life I led before you killed it all was loveless? I had my family. You took them all away from me!”
“Am I not worth such a trade to you?” He reached out to her. “Please, Marguerite…put down the blade. Let us talk over dinner, and a bottle of wine, and—”
“No! I will be party to this no longer!”
Darkness came over him like a cloud over a moon. His silver eyes went cold. “You have no choice. There is nowhere for you to run. Nowhere you can hide. You are mine, Marguerite. Now and forever.”