Page 56 of Consort's Glory
Her estimate of weeks before a fatal magical collapse was brutally, foolishly optimistic. When she turned her inner eye towards her neural pathways, Margot was grimly unsurprised to find some of them withered, parched for the magic that was supposed to flow through them, and others so overloaded they were being charred from the inside out.
I’m burning.
Her heart slammed against her ribs. Margot opened her mouth to lie, the taste of blood on her tongue.
Theodore’s hand clasped her jaw, his thumb and forefinger squeezing either side with a warning as he leaned forward to hiss, “Don’t you lie to me, Margot Goode. Don’t you fucking dare. You got your one, remember?” Her heart jackknifed in her chest. He was so close that she could feel every harsh exhalation of his breath on her flushed cheeks. “You and I both know that healers don’t get fucking nose bleeds. This is what you’ve been hiding, isn’t it?” The expression in his dark eyes was livid. “Tell me what’s wrong. Now.”
I know he’s been kind and I know he wants me, but I can’t trust him.
But this wasn’t necessarily about trust, was it? This was about the days she had left. Margot’s world tilted, just a little, at the realization that there was every chance she would spend those last days in his company.
Why did that not scare her?
Margot knew that she should return to the Goodeland, to spend her last moments with her family. If not for herself, then for them and for their grief. She should not have fought Sophie so hard. She should have given in and followed her through Alric’s gate.
But the more Margot spun the thought in her mind, trying desperately to make herself say the words that would send her home, she simply… couldn’t.
Something painfully fundamental in her, the same force that drew her to San Francisco like a beacon, now held her firmly by Theodore Solbourne’s side.
What did this secret matter, compared to the other that hung like a noose around her neck? He could use it to hurt her grandmother, but only in the emotional sense. But even then, Margot had the feeling he wouldn’t do that. The look in his eyes when he apologized to the weres was burned into her mind. No man, sovereign or not, elf or not, who wore his shame so openly would use Margot’s death against the people she loved.
And below that, there was that other part of her that whimpered for him, for the comfort of having the burden of fear lifted even momentarily. It was a solid core of loneliness, abandoned by the people who were supposed to love it and protect it, and it ached to be seen. It didn’t want to die. It yearned to sink its claws into Theodore and never, ever let him go.
It craved him with everything it was. Margot wanted him with everything she was.
She shuddered. The truth of that acknowledgement sent a wracking, brutal wave of emotion through her as the walls around the other half of her cracked, crumbled, and fell away.
A tear slid from the corner of her eye to splash against the leather of his glove. With the time I have left, I am choosing to trust him.
“I’m dying,” she whispered. Her voice broke. The relief of finally speaking the words was immense. “I’m dying, Theodore.”
The sense of a weight lifting off of her chest was exquisite. She sucked in a harsh, wheezing breath. Finally, someone other than me knows.
Theodore pulled her face closer, the look in his eyes wild. In a raw, trembling voice, he demanded, “What are you talking about? Explain.”
Now that the words were out, Margot felt the lock that kept them sealed inside of her shatter, allowing the rest to pour out in a deluge of grief. “I’m burning out. It’s too early and I don’t know why it happened this way, but I started having the symptoms six months ago. Headaches. Tremors after healing. Decreased focus. Weight loss. The bleeding is new but not unexpected. My brain hasn’t begun to hemorrhage yet, but it’s only a matter of time.” She sniffed hard, the scent of blood thick in the air and in her lungs. “My magic is killing me.”
She found it hard to look at him, so she dropped her blurry eyes to the pin holding his collar in place. “That’s why I came here. That’s why I need to stay so badly. If I don’t bond, I’m going to die. I can’t stop it. I… I’m one of those witches that can’t just bond with anyone. I don’t know why that is, either. I don’t know anything other than that I need to find my bondmate and I know he’s here, but I can’t— I haven’t been able to track him down and I thought I had more time but I don’t and—”
Theodore’s hand left her jaw. Margot looked up to find him pushing the sleeves of his coat and suit jacket up, revealing the pristine white shirt underneath. When he spoke, his voice was shockingly calm, a balm of pure authority that soothed that whimpering thing in her. “You are not going to die.”
With the utmost gentleness, Theodore raised his arm to swipe at the skin beneath her nose and lips, ruining his shirt with her blood. “You are going to live a good, long life,” he continued, his eyes made of the hardest, sharpest obsidian, “because I will not accept anything else. Do you hear me, Margot? I will not let this happen.”
She pushed at his arm, embarrassed to be taken care of like she was a messy baby by him, of all people, and angry that he was deliberately ignoring the truth staring him in the face. “There’s no stopping it. Unless I find my bondmate soon — very soon — I’m dead. If I’m bleeding like this already, I have weeks at most. Probably less. Days, even. I can’t…”
Theodore pressed the tips of his claws against her bottom lip, halting the frenzied outpouring of information. They pricked at her skin, demanding her complete attention.
“It’s like you don’t even listen to me.” His voice bordered on a snarl. “I already told you, Margot.”
There was a terrifying lethality in the way he held himself then, a danger that he had never displayed with her before; a monstrousness that made her want to stretch out her neck in surrender. “You found your bondmate. It’s me. You are not going to die because we are going to bond. We are going to live long lives together. There is no alternative to look for, no surrendering to this fatalism, no negotiating for someone else. It’s you and me, forever.”
Margot turned away from him to wipe her nose with her own sleeve, a choked laugh bubbling out of her raw throat. “You don’t even know me! And even if you did, you’re the sovereign. Elves don’t even date outside of their race, and I’m pretty sure their sovereign doesn’t either. And, what? You think I’m going to bond with you and everything will be fine? You can’t just say things like that and expect me to take you seriously. Why would you, of all people, want me?”
She was no one, not really, and he was the sovereign. Even if they weren’t two incompatible species, it could never work. He may want to use her. He may want to sleep with her. He may even like her. But a true bond? A marriage of magic and heart? No, that was impossible.
“If you’re not looking to use me as a personal magical battery, then the only other option is that you’re making a joke out of my death, because there’s no way anything about what you just said could be true.”
The sweet relief of unburdening herself was rapidly being replaced by stinging humiliation. Hurt thrust its blade through her, slicing her to ribbons. Did he think she was stupid? Did he think it was funny? Theodore had never been cruel to her before this moment, but it was the only explanation that made any sense.
