Page 130 of Consort's Glory
Epilogue II
Margot’s great-auntwas a wizened woman. She was beautiful but frail, her skin paper-thin and her hair a closely shorn cap of snowy white. Theodore could see hints of his wife in her dainty chin and the cunning, very witchy look in her steel gray eyes, but the resemblance didn’t soothe him.
She was a Goode, and all the Goodes were, as far he was concerned, his enemies. And if there was a list of Goodes Theodore wished he could sharpen his claws on, Fara definitely cracked the top five.
“How long will it take?”
“The glamour has been embedded in her skin for twenty-six years,” Fara answered, barely paying any attention to him. Like every elder Goode he’d met, she lacked even a hint of warmth under her aloof expression. “It will take as long as it takes.”
Gods, it was like she didn’t even care that it was her great-niece she was working on, that she mutilated. Elves were vicious, but they at least cared about their kin. The same could not be said for the generation of witches Fara and Sophie Goode hailed from.
Theodore adjusted his grip on Margot’s shoulders. She sat in a chair in front of him, perfectly composed, but he could feel her anxiety running like a jagged current through their bond. Prickles settled under his skin, an itch to soothe and to eliminate the source of his consort’s distress that was bred into his very DNA.
“Will it hurt her?” His temper bled into his voice, but he didn’t care if he offended the old witch. It was her bony hands that mutilated Margot in the first place, though he tried valiantly not to think about that, for his wife’s sake. She didn’t want him to seek justice on her behalf.
Yet.
“Theodore…” Margot’s voice was a gentle reproach. One of her soft hands came up to cover his.
He sucked in a deep breath and became aware of the fact that he was letting out a low, threatening rumble. Theodore managed to squelch it – not for Fara’s sake, but for Margot’s. The last thing he wanted was for her to feel like she needed to look after him.
If he’d learned anything about his wife in the four months they’d been married, it was that she couldn’t fight the instinct to comfort even when she was drowning in her own pain. Whether it was a healer’s trait or something more intrinsic to her, he didn’t know.
Theodore turned his hand around so he could entwine their fingers. He wasn’t entirely certain who was giving strength to whom, but that was the way with them. Their relationship was constant give and take. Something raw and unchecked flowed between them; a current of gratefulness, of love, of protectiveness and pride.
Every day he woke up surprised to find her there with him, a purr rattling his chest, and every night he thanked the gods for his fate. Twenty-five years of constant, grinding determination and yearning were nothing compared to the joy of his daily existence. He wouldn’t trade Margot for anything.
That didn’t mean he had to like her relatives, though. He counted himself lucky that she had so far kept the du Soleils at a distance. Even Theodore wasn’t certain he could handle both Olivier and Sophie at once. Not even his patience could stretch that far.
“There will be some discomfort,” Fara answered as she slowly lowered herself into the chair beside Margot’s. Two dainty needles gleamed in her wizened hands. They looked terribly sinister in her grip, and out of place amongst the finery of their suite’s lavish sitting room.
The room was too big for what they were doing. It felt more appropriate to have the procedure done in a back alley, or perhaps a dank basement. A setting that fit the crime the Goodes had committed, however well intentioned, against his consort.
But of course, he refused to entertain the idea of Margot undergoing the procedure anywhere but in their home. He’d gone to the trouble of flying Fara into San Francisco just so Margot didn’t have to travel back to the Goodeland for the procedure. There wasn’t a chance on Burden’s Earth he would let her travel back to Sophie’s territory to undo the wrong they’d done to her, no matter what the old, wretched woman insisted. If Margot needed the comfort of family, she would ask for it. Until then, Theodore would keep her in his territory, where he knew she was safe and well cared for, without a single care for what any of the elder Goodes thought of it.
“It’s okay, baby,” she murmured, staring up at him with the sort of serene confidence only a healer could manage. “I’ll be fine. If you can’t stand it, maybe you should—”
“If you ask me if I want to stand outside one more time, Margot Elloise Solbourne, I’m going to bite you.”
A smile curled the corner of her mouth upward. You’re going to do that anyway.
He huffed and, leaning down to press a hard kiss to the crown of her head, muttered, “Don’t tempt me, witch.”
“Are you ready, Margot?”
They both turned their attention back to Fara, who sat poised, needles raised. A crackle of energy bounced between the sharp tips — electric blue twined with vivid teal. The metallic tang of magic seeped into the air, coating his tongue in a taste very close to blood.
“Yes, Auntie,” his wife answered, quick and easy, like she was agreeing to take a pie out of the oven rather than having her skin burned off.
Theodore clenched his jaw and heard his fangs squeak against one another. Calm. It will be over soon.
Not that the thought made it easier. He didn’t think he would ever be able to stomach her suffering. Even the necessary kind.
Margot had already secured her hair in a tight bun, leaving plenty of room for her great-aunt to work. When she tilted her head in Fara’s direction, a single strand of red hair fell against her forehead, flirting with the edge of their marriage sigil. The scab was long gone, but the skin was still a faintly puckered lavender; a living chronicle of just how long they’d been together.
Heart clenching, Theodore crouched down in front of her and gently brushed her hair back into place with the pad of his thumb. “Keep your eyes on me, my love,” he whispered.
Their twined hands fell into her lap. Margot covered them with her free hand and squeezed tightly as Fara pressed her needles into the skin behind her ear. Immediately, the faint but stomach turning scent of burning skin filled the room, mingling with the elemental smell of magic.
