Tale of the Necromancer by Kathryn Ann Kingsley

4

Gideon scoopedthe poor creature up into his arms. Very well, perhaps he could have worded his proposition to her a bit gentler. But he had been a bit caught up in the moment himself, finally being truly in her presence. Her emerald eyes had fascinated him, hypnotizing him like he was nothing but a snake in a basket. Before he knew it, he had blurted out his intentions.

For a fraction of a moment, when she swooned into his arms, he wondered if he had merely been struck by the gods of good luck. But when she went limp, he knew he had merely overwhelmed her.

He carried her back inside and shook his head at the guards who took in the sight of him carrying the unconscious young woman with rightful alarm. “Nothing to be concerned over. Marguerite merely exerted herself after too much wine.” He smiled, easily playing the role of the physician. Simply because he was. Yes, magic was his true forte, but he was as skilled in the art of healing, as he was the rest of what he called his trade. “I will take her to bed and ensure she’s cared for.”

The guards nodded, smiling to themselves at what they must have believed to be nothing but courtly antics. If the young woman was approaching her twentieth birthday as he suspected, he was likely not the first to sneak her away for a night of affection. The French did view that manner of things rather differently than the English or the German.

After asking a maid for directions to Marguerite’s room, he took his time in taking her there. He enjoyed the feel of her in his arms. She was a little thing, shorter in stature than most, but figured in such a way that made his mouth water.

No, no. Pace thyself even but a little, you fool.

Stepping into her room, he laid her down on top of the quilt of her bed and returned to the door to quietly shut it. Stepping back to the bed, he sat on the edge and reached out to gently place the back of his fingers against her forehead.

No fever. Merely stunned. He had worried for a moment that he had happened upon her just as she was to be seized by some deadly ailment. It would be my luck.

Standing, he pulled a blanket up over her. Fetching a light towel from the water basin on her dresser, he dipped it in the cool liquid. Wringing it out, he returned to her side to press it to her forehead. “Poor dear. I hope you know this was not my intention.” He chuckled quietly to himself. “Although I had imagined being in your bedroom this evening, this was hardly the manner in which I had hoped.”

At the sound of his voice, she stirred, letting out a low hum and turning her head to the side.

“Easy, now, not too fast.”

She pulled in a startled hiss of air through her nose, her eyes flying wide. In a moment, she panicked and punched him.

Right to the face.

He groaned in pain and pressed a hand to his nose where she had smarted him. Despite the blow, he had to laugh. “I deserved that.” His princess had a little fight in her, and a fairly impressive punch, all things considered. It only made him adore her more.

“I—I—What—what are you—”

“You fainted, my dear. I brought you here to rest. I apologize for startling you, but I am a physician, and—”

“You fiend!” She punched him again, this time to the temple. He winced and stood to get out of her reach as she went for a third, sloppier hit. Her disorientation was seemingly cured as she flew off the bed to follow him, striking him now with both fists. “You rotten—”

He caught her wrists and pulled them behind her back, smiling down at her furious face as it put her chest squarely against his.

Her cheeks instantly went pink. “Let me go, or I’ll scream.”

“Let me speak, or I will claim you have some manner of dangerous and contagious madness.” His smile faded to a smirk. “As I said, I am a physician and alchemist in service to your queen.”

“You wouldn’t dare.” Uncertainty flickered behind emerald eyes of rage and righteousness.

Arching an eyebrow, he called her bluff. “Wouldn’t I?”

“If you want to speak, then let me go, and we may do so from opposite ends of the room.”

He hummed thoughtfully then shook his head. “A fair negotiation, but I fear you are not in the position to make demands, my pr—”

Her knee met his groin. That time, he fell to a knee and doubled over. He had to press a hand to the offended part of his anatomy as stars flashed over his vision. His princess had more than a little fight in her. Making a valuable note not to underestimate the girl again, he looked up to see her standing before him, several feet away, brandishing a jeweled hairpin as though it were a sword. She glared at him with all the quiet rage that would waver the resolve of a Greek goddess.

By the gods, she’s adorable.

“I deserved that as well,” he managed to get out after he could inhale enough air to speak. “I take your point. I have imposed upon you.”

“Grievously.”

“I would sincerely hope not.” Kneeling fully, he sat back on his ankles. He did not want her to fear him. Especially not so early on. She would come to learn much about him that would fill her with dread. The memory of their first meeting should not add to the list. “I apologize profusely if that is the case. I did not mean to scare you, or wrong you, or—”

“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.”

“Well, I—” Her face went warm. There was something about that strange man’s silver eyes. She could not lie and say that some part of her was not drawn to him in a peculiar way. Dr. Faust was…haunting. There was no other word to describe him. A figure in the darkness, beckoning her nearer. And part of her wanted to follow him, even as offended as she was by his poor manners.

But she had made a vow.

Her oldest friend needed her.

“It is Leopold.” Summoning the image of her companion to her mind, she smiled.

“I wondered when you both would accept the inevitable.” Her father reached out and hugged her close. “But is it what you truly want?”

Never once had she lied to her father, and she was not about to begin now. “He is noble, kind, and loyal. We know each other better than anyone else in our lives. I love him as though we were already family.”

“Oh, I know all of this already, dear heart. But that was not my question.”

Leaning her head on her father’s shoulder, she sighed.

“You may tell me. It goes no farther than I, I promise.”

“He is not…suited for marriage. There is an illness in him that prevents him from feeling desire for others—of any gender. He fears what will happen if he weds another. His father is pushing the matter.”

“The later portion I knew. Captain de Lorges has been to see me many times inquiring as to whether I would find matrimony between you and his son an amicable arrangement.” It was his turn to sigh. “Gabriel is a stubborn man. It makes him a wonderful soldier, and a terrible nuisance. As for the rest, I am dismayed to hear he has suffered so long in silence. I suspected something was amiss. Lord knows you have chased his heels for many enough years without him noticing how you have pined after him.”

She chuckled at that. “It was never requited. Now I know why and am considerably less offended.”

Laughing, he leaned away from her but kept an arm around her. “Are you certain you wish to do this? It is a mighty sacrifice.”

Marrying Leopold may also save me from the alchemist. “Yes. While our love may not be passionate, it is unbreakable. I will have in him a soulmate. I will thank God each morning to have him at my side.”

“Then…consider it done. Perhaps it is not the manner of love I had wished for you, but life is not like the stories of yore.” He kissed her forward. “You two shall be wed with my blessings. I will draw up a contract immediately. And about time—Catherine has redoubled her pestering on when you might finally fly the nest. Although Jean will be sad for your departure—she is quite glad for the help you provide in minding the others.”

She smiled sadly at the thought of leaving her home. But there was always a time for things to end, and this was the start of something new. “She is a more than capable nurse. She will do quite fine. Although I believe young Henri will grow to be even more of a handful than he is already.”

“I fear you are correct.” He stood, heading back to his desk. “Well, I have a new contract to draw and send to my captain of the guard. And you, my dear, have a future to dream of. Go tell your fiancé the good news.”

Smiling, she headed for the door. “Thank you, Father.”

“Anything for you, daughter of my love.”

She left her father’s library in the strangest of moods. She was all at once elated and mournful, grateful and regretful. Leopold would be a wonderful husband. She loved him like family.

She loved him. There was no question of that.

It would be enough for her. She would be happy with him. Even if it did feel somehow…empty. It did not matter. He needed her, and she would be there for him no matter what.

Regardless of how she felt, one thing remained true.

Her life was about to change.