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I HAVE NO CHOICE BUT to follow Wolf out of the castle and although I feel a sadness, a pull – a physical wrench – at leaving my things behind, it’s fitting as well. I can leave my things behind, my past behind, my poor decisions behind and start again. A fresh start.
Where no one knows my sins.
We each carry a sack of wares for Millard and we troop out of the courtyard together like two thieves in the night.
Too much has changed in such a short space of time. I despise this man and all he stands for, all that he does for Millard, and yet I am the same as him.
Not the same, I continue the internal, infernal battle with myself. I am choosing to leave Millard because of what he has made me, what he has turned me into.
I do not even know what he has done, or how he has done it, but I don’t recognise myself. I was a smart, self-contained little witch and now I am a monster.
There must be something left of my true self, some core of goodness, I tell myself, or I wouldn’t be thinking about leaving.
If this King was so bewitching that he had made a pure monster of me, I would want to remain by his side, like Wolf. A loyal and trusted henchman, regardless of the acts I would stoop to carry out in his name.
I repeat to myself, I haven’t hurt anyone, I haven’t killed anyone. I know Wolf would maim and kill for his master. I am not so far under his thrall that I am completely unrecognisable to myself, then.
There is still some good in there, some of the old Ginata.
I have betrayed Everleigh and her cause, I have aided Millard on two occasions, but now I will wash my hands of them both.
It is a long walk with only Wolf for company. I sneak looks at him as we go. He’s a hulking beast of a man. Taller than most, wider than most, he’s not handsome. Strangely, considering all the dirty work he does for Millard, I don’t feel a bad vibe coming from him. I wonder if it’s something he cultivates, a gentle giant persona.
Millard is sitting in the chair when we go inside my cottage, the fire is still blazing which means he’s mobile enough to keep adding wood to the flames. He stands up and claps Wolf on the back, more pleased to see him than me, which leaves me feeling, ridiculously, offended.
I’m the one who rescued Millard and I’m the one who rescued Wolf. Without me they wouldn’t even be having this cosy little reunion.
I throw a disc on the fire, the snapping sound making both men jump. Millard finally notices me and sweeps me into his arms. “The lovely Ginata. Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.” I can’t be rude, he’d have my head, but I’m a little stiffer than usual. Wolf turns away from us and I can see it aggravates him. They may be the best of friends, master and servant, soul mates in evil matters, but I am the romantic interest. Millard likes me in a way he will never like Wolf. And though I don’t think Wolf likes him in that way, either, it’s the one thing he cannot be to Millard, when he strives to do everything for him, be everything to him.
I flaunt my femininity then, even though I have started to close off my heart to Millard and I find a little thrill in this. I let him kiss me, and allow his lips to linger longer than they have yet. I press my body against his, and enjoy the way his kiss quickens. Take that, Wolf!
“We’ve brought you everything you asked for,” I say, pitching my voice an octave lower than usual, trying to sound sultry, seductive. I catch myself and clear my throat, talking normally after that. “Clothes and weapons.”
“Thank you, Ginny. And you rescued Wolf. Clever thing...”
He smiles at me and I almost don’t catch the nod he gives to Wolf. Wolf heads for the front door, trying to be nonchalant but I feel a coil of fear wrap around my heart.
“I do need one more thing from you, Ginny. You’ve done so much but I need one more thing that only you can do.”
He smiles, and I feel two conflicting emotions at the same time. A beat of attraction and tenderness for this young foolish King who gets caught up in his emotions and acts so rashly, and a stab of piercing terror and a real sense of aversion for all that he is and all that he does.
“Ginny, I need you to make me a death draught.”
I am catapulted back to his brother standing inside my little cottage, this very room, asking the same thing. Full circle, I almost smile.
I was coy then, smiling at the cloaked stranger, desperate that he didn’t see the fear that his words struck into my heart. A death draught is an abomination. I knew it then and I know it now. Halfreda’s words echo in my mind, straight after we made the death draught for Macsen: All you do is go along with it. No questions, no concerns. No fault.
Do those words stand now? Not really. But if I defy a King I will die at his hands. If I make a death draught who will die at his hands?
“Who for?”
“Don’t be upset, Ginny. It’s for me.”
“What do you mean?”
“I want to be King again; I make no secret of that. But if I am captured I could not stand to die at my sister’s hand. It would be too humiliating. I would rather have the power to end it myself. You can see that, can’t you?”
It makes sense and then I want to cry because the mad man’s words make sense to me. “A death draught is a terrible thing, my King.”
“Not if I don’t plan to use it on anyone else.”
“To use it on yourself would be a sin too.”
“I have done many bad things in my life, Ginny. I would be happy to do this last bad thing if it saved me from death by another’s hand.”
Is it logic or an excuse?
“I wasn’t going to go back to the castle...”
“If you go now they would never know you had left.”
Is this true? How early does Cook wake to start her daily toil?
What if I get back there and I’ve been found out?
He slips a strand of my hair behind my ear, tucking it off my face. My skin tingles at his touch. “Please Ginny. She’ll kill me.”
Suddenly it hits me; this could be a good outcome for all of us. If Everleigh does capture him, he’ll drink the draught and die almost instantaneously. He will never be able to spill my secrets to Everleigh.
“Do you promise not to use it on your sister? Either of them?”
“I promise not to use it on either of my sisters. That’s not what I want it for.”
It sounds like a truth to me. “I’ll have to run back to the castle.”
“You can do that. Make it straight away for me, today. I know you’d do anything for me.”
He says it with such certainty that I almost want to argue with him, but I know that what he says is true.