6
Gideon stoodin the shadows of columns, watching Marguerite as she sat on the edge of a fountain, weeping as if she were to overflow the basin with her tears. She clutched his handkerchief, occasionally using it to wipe at her cheeks that must be raw from the repetitive action.
His heart…to say it ached for her would not do it justice. Her pain was so visceral that he shared in it. He had known the death of her father would hurt her.
But to see it firsthand?
A pang of regret needled him. This was his fault. This was his doing. Her father was dead at the hands of a revenant he had built for the task. Someday, when she loves me, I will tell her what I have done. She will forgive me.
But there was much still to be done. Stepping from the shadows, he carefully made his way to her and sat beside her at the fountain. When she did not seem to notice his presence, he reached out to touch her shoulder. Startled, her eyes were red as she looked up at him.
Suddenly, he decided he never wished to see her like that ever again. “My dear Marguerite…I am so very sorry.” For much more than you know. And much more that is still to come. He went to stroke her cheek, but she shied away from him. He did not force the matter, and instead rested his hand atop hers. That time she did not pull away, and his heart delighted for it.
She struggled for words for a moment, before giving up and shutting her eyes. He did not blame her.
He took a breath, held it, and let it out in a long rush. “Grief is selfish.”
That time, she met him with an expression of anger. She had such a beautiful fire that smoldered away, hidden inside, and he far preferred it to this weeping creature before him. “Excuse me?”
He chuckled and waved his hand as if dismissing his own words. “Allow me to explain.”
“Please do.”
He laughed at her dourness and looked up at the sky. The clouds were beautiful against the blue sky. It was a beautiful day, despite all that had transpired. “The dead do not mourn their own passing. We feel grief because we have lost those we love. We do not weep for them, but for ourselves. The pain of loss is a terrible one. Mark me, I do not say this to belittle what you feel. But sometimes I think there is a peace to be found in knowing that our agony is but that of absence, not death.”
Silence stretched between them for a moment as she considered his words. She sniffled and wiped at her face again with his handkerchief. She looked down at the sodden piece of silk. “I fear I have ruined this. I apologize.”
“It is nothing.” He squeezed her hand gently.
After another long pause, she looked up at the sky. “Did he suffer?”
“No. I suspect the shard of wood rendered him unable to feel much of anything at all.” That was true. At least he did not need to lie to her about that. “Where is your fiancé?”
She shook her head. “He left with his father. Regardless of it being an accident, it…he decided it was uncouth to stay, and Leopold joined him. I will meet up with him again at the palace.”
“He should have stayed by your side.” Gideon frowned. He had ordered his revenant to leave, but Leopold’s decision to follow his father was his own. “Does he not care for what you would suffer?”
“He does. He just—” She pulled her hand from his and stood. “It is personal. Thank you for the comfort, Dr. Faust. But I should do as you recommend—I should go be with my family.”
I would not leave your side if I thought you were in pain. No god nor devil would keep me from you. What manner of man is Leopold to abandon you so? Anger rose in him again. Something did not make sense, and if there was one thing in the world that troubled him more than anything else, it was not having all pieces of the puzzle neatly arranged before him.
When she moved to leave, he grasped her wrist. Standing, he pulled her back to him. “Marguerite, wait. Speak to me of what troubles you.”
“I do not know you, doctor. You have shown me kindness this day, but I shall not forget your…bizarrely egregious poor manners prior.” She tugged on her wrist, but he did not release her. She sighed. “Let me go, lest we repeat ourselves.”
“I will let you go on accord.” He pulled her closer. She tried to dig in her heels to fight him, but he outmatched her by far. “Look me in the eyes, princess, and tell me you wish to marry Leopold. Tell me you two are madly in love, and I will relent.”
Anger flushed her cheeks. Anger and something else. Shame, perhaps? She stammered, yanked uselessly on her wrist, and then let out a low, annoyed growl. She glared up at him, and he could not help but smile at how beautiful she was. “He and I are to be wed, doctor.”
“Swear to me you love him.”
“I do.” She turned from him.
He would not allow it. He banded an arm around her waist and pulled her to him, her smaller frame nestling so perfectly against his, even as she went rigid and tense. “As a husband or as a brother? Speak to me the truth. Swear to me you wish to share his bed, and I will never broach the subject again. Swear to me on your father’s soul.”
Fury lit in her, and he was impressed that he did not burst into flame. “Damn you.”
He smirked. “Far too late for that, I fear.” He leaned over her, enjoying using his height to his advantage. She had to tilt back to avoid him. “Now…give me your vow, and all this is over. No lies, princess. I will know.”