“I couldn’t have the king join their ranks. I couldn’t bear the thought of Baudouin’s victims being there too. There’s not enough salt in the world for that many spirits. They would have broken through. They would have smothered me. I would have drowned in them. Merrick—” My voice caught again as tears began to flow. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I didn’t want to go against you, I didn’t want to go against the deathshead. But I also couldn’t…I just couldn’t.”
Merrick sighed, and I could feel the heat of his anger begin to retreat. He paced down a row of candles and I knew he was headed toward my plinth, toward my remaining candle.
After a moment of wary hesitation, I followed him.
As I approached, I saw he’d reached out, tracing the length of the last unlit candle. He kept his touch impossibly gentle, stroking the taper as if it were the full, round cheek of a newborn babe.
“Never again.”
His words were low and deeply growled.
This was not something he was asking me to promise to, a request, a wish to be carried out. This was a command, plain and simple. One that would not be broken, no matter what my reasons might be. No matter how right and righteous I might think my cause.
When he turned toward me, his eyes were all rubies, flashing with dangerous warning. “I will see what I can do about the ghosts. I will….” He swallowed the promise. “But never again.”
All I could do was bow my head and nod.
I kept my eyes down, studying the wafting edges of his robes, the way they disappeared into the floor. I wanted to cry beneath the full weight of his anger and expectations but knew it was my penance to bear them as stoically as I could.
“Thank you for your understanding, Merrick,” I whispered, flinching as his hands balled into fists. I dared to look up and meet his eyes. “For your mercy. I do not deserve it.”
“No,” he agreed. “You don’t. And it will not be given a secondtime.”
“Of course,” I agreed hastily. “I promise you, Merrick. Never again.”
The Dreaded End turned away from me with a disappointed shake of his head, and before I could make any other attempt to soothe or assuage him, he snapped his fingers and sent me back toChâtellerault.
Chapter 40
“I’ve been thinking about something,”Marnaigne began, and my muscles tensed at the gravity of his tone.
I’d returned from Merrick’s cavern a week ago to find the king still in the bath. He’d come back to consciousness but didn’t remember the seizure. He wasn’t aware that any time had passed, and he certainly didn’t know his life had hung so precariously in the balance.
I’d helped him from the stinking water and rubbed him with a light mix of witch hazel and comfrey, and we’d watched for more of the dark Brilliance to weep out of him.
It hadn’t.
He’d laughed in amazement, poking and prodding and trying to push out more of the blackness as I feigned astonishment.
We kept watching.
His skin had remained clear.
It remained clear that afternoon and again the next day.
I’d cautioned him to take everything slowly, carefully, to do nothing that might provoke a relapse. I was worried a miraculousrecovery would look somehow suspicious, so I applied rose hips and the oil of sea buckthorn seeds and covered him in gauze wraps, helping to heal the damage caused by the Brilliance while also hiding just how quickly I’d managed to heal him. I checked in on him throughout the day, tending his dressings, giving him restorative teas and baths heavily laden with soothing tonics.
Marnaigne had been so delighted with my progress, he’d never stopped to ask how exactly the cure had worked, simply taking it at face value.
But now…
“Yes, Your Majesty?” I dared to prompt. I was in the middle of examining his back, dabbing at one of the nastier wounds he’d suffered as the sludge had pushed its way through. It was healing well but would undoubtedly leave a scar.
“I’ve had lots of time to sit and mull, these past few days.”
“It’s good that you’re resting so much,” I said cheerfully, trying to delay the inevitable.
He made a sound of consideration. “Yes, well, I’ve been thinking of you, of your work with me…”
