There’s an aura of sadness about Meremon over the following days. He still draws me into his arms for kisses but I feel as if something is playing on his mind. I wish I hadn’t done it, touch him between his legs and then draw my hand away as if I’d been burned. I was just surprised, but I think I hurt him.

I wonder if this is why he has lived alone for so long and waited so long for a woman who might not even come to him. Maybe he regretted marking me after he did it, knowing what I would discover about him. Or maybe he just hoped it wouldn’t matter.

One afternoon he says to me, “Tomorrow is the full moon. We will descend into the village first thing in the morning.”

I wonder if he’s going to kiss me but he turns away, leaving me alone in the laboratory. The fire has gone out in the grate and no cauldron stands cheerily at the boil. The castle is so quiet it’s as if it’s already empty, and I shiver.

This is how it must feel to him every day of his life.

I’m feeling sorry for Meremon, I realize. The thought of him being sad makes me sad.

The job of tidying his laboratory is almost complete and I want to finish it before we depart. One bookshelf is still disorganized and cluttered and I get to work dusting them down and reshelving all the books. I drop a tome and it opens on an illustration of a sleeping woman. The picture reminds me of a bedtime story Mama used to tell me, about a princess locked in a tower…I gasp out loud and snatch the book up, studying it more closely. Could this be a way to break Meremon’s curse? I explore the idea from every angle and wonder if he knows about such things. This is not necromancy, after all, but deeper, fundamental magic.

Can I break Meremon’s curse?

Do I want to?

It’s not only the act after all, but what it signifies. I examine my feelings and they’re in a snarl of hope and need and dread. I chew my lip, worrying whether I dare try, or if it’s better that I forget the idea ever flitted across my mind.

We make the journey down the mountain in silence. Meremon holds my hand and has a walking staff to keep us steady down the steepest slopes. Winter is slowly ebbing from the land and as we descend I see primroses poking their sunny faces through the thin crust of snow.

I feel as if I’ve been away for many years, not a matter of weeks. So much has happened to me since I climbed the mountain in search of Meremon’s help. I glance up at the necromancer and his face is serious and shuttered. So much has happened to both of us.

On the edge of the village Meremon pulls me into his arms and places his lips against my brow. “It’s all right. They cannot hurt you.”

I realize I’ve been fiddling with my sleeves. I’m worried about facing the villagers again but not for the reasons I expected. I thought it would be hard because of what I would see in their eyes when they looked at me, but what I’m really worried about is them not letting us help the children.

He presses his mouth against mine. “The only thing anyone should be afraid of is my wrath if they even look at you in a way I do not like.”

I stroke my hand down the lapels of his robes, seeing the worry in his eyes. “I’m not afraid for my sake, though I confess it feels strange to be back here.”

He gazes at me, his eyes tender. “I remember the taste of your bravery in my mouth that night. I waited so long, hoping that a woman with my mark on her hand would come and find me and show me again how brave she could be.”

My heart leaps into my mouth. I want to break his curse. I want to banish forever this loneliness that lays heavy in his heart.

But it’s not enough just to want to do it. Wishes don’t do anyone any good, I’ve learned that by now.

He goes on speaking, looking past me. “People have feared me for what I am all my life and I never knew much fear myself. But I think I might feel afraid now, my Rhona. Why is that?”

A shiver goes through me and I look with him at the houses, the people moving through the muddy streets. Maybe he feels it too, that we’re not welcome here.

As I lead him toward the Griegals’ cottage I ask quietly, “How badly do you have to cut them?”

He puts his hand on the dagger at his hip. “A small cut, I hope. We shall see.”

Penra opens the door when I knock and I see how drawn and pale she looks, as if she’s suffered many sleepless nights of worry and anguish. Her scared eyes flicker between us. She knows why we’re here. After a moment she steps back, letting us in.

I find I can let out a breath I didn’t know I was holding.

Gillie is lying on a mattress in a room by himself, his body wasted and his skin yellowed. He can barely open his eyes as Meremon kneels down on the one side of the bed and me on the other. I turn the boy’s face toward me so he can’t see what Meremon is doing.

The necromancer takes his left hand and murmurs, “Infirmum revelare,” and all the veins in Gillie’s arm stand out black against his skin.

He whimpers but I smile encouragingly at him. “Gillie, there will be a tiny pinch and then I promise you will start to feel so much better. You look at me and squeeze my hand, and Meremon will do the rest.”

Meremon places a basin under the boy’s wrist and uses his knife to slice quickly through a black vein. Gillie gasps and squeezes his eyes shut. I watch black liquid splatter into the basin and then slow to a steady trickle. Several minutes go by and we watch the bowl fill. I glance at Meremon’s serious expression, wanting to ask if it’s working and whether there’s any good blood left in poor Gillie, when finally I see the boy’s veins clear of blackness and the bleeding ceases.

Gillie blink and opens his eyes. “Penra?” he says, looking over my shoulder.

His sister has been standing behind me the whole time and there are tears running down her face. Her hands have been over her mouth but she takes them away and whispers, “Can it be true?”

Meremon and I stand up quietly and move back. We watch the two of them for a moment, Penra hugging her brother and crying, and then withdraw.

Outside, the sound of running feet arrests us.

“Rhona, wait!” Penra has come out onto the street but as she stands before us her courage seems to fail her. After a moment she flushes red and says thank you, and hurries back into the house.

Meremon’s mouth curves in a faint smile, watching her go. “It is more than I usually receive. Where next, deliciae?”

We work through all the houses with sick children, leaving Ilsa for last. It hurts my heart to see my sister so near death and I worry that she might never recover, but when the black has been bled from her veins she too sits up, blinking, and croaks my name.

“Everyone, come in, Ilsa is better!” I fling my arms around her and hold her close. A moment later my father and Cerys and all my other siblings are crowding around the bed and crying. Ilsa’s going to be all right. My heart feels full up with so much happiness.

I look for Meremon to say thank you and I find that he’s watching me from the far side of the room, alone and forlorn. The smile fades from my face. What can be the matter? Look at all the good work he has done today. Together we have saved the children and shown the villagers that they needn’t be afraid of their necromancer.

Ilsa distracts me for a moment, telling me about the strange dream she had about me and a flock of ravens, and when I look up again Meremon is gone.

I cry out his name and run from the cottage, looking wildly around for him. Where has he gone? Why has he left me? I spot him climbing the path out of the village and run to him, taking his hand and turning him toward me.

“Meremon!” But he won’t look at me.

There’s a hard line between his brows as he says, “Go home, Rhona. It is done.”

“What are you talking about? What’s done? Come and celebrate with us.”

His jaw is tight with emotion. “And then? What am I to do then? I will still have to leave.”

I feel my eyes fill with tears. I don’t understand how he can be so cold all of a sudden. “But why do you have to leave?”

He rounds on me angrily. “Because I will always want more and I can give you nothing in return. I can’t be with you like a husband should. I can’t give you children. Do you understand that? I am a dead thing.”

He’s right. I hadn’t thought about it, that taking the necromancer as my husband means a life without many of the things a normal man can provide. This is my future if the curse is never broken, the wife of a man who is half dead and half alive.

“When I saw you just now with your family I realized how selfish I was being. Go home, Rhona. I’m sorry.”

But I won’t let go of him. He stares at our joined hands, half longing, half angry. Maybe he’s not normal, but normal and right aren’t always the same thing. “Maybe you are half dead, but you make me feel more alive than anyone I’ve ever known.”

His face smarts with pain and he looks away, his eyes glittering. “I want you with me so much it hurts.”

“Then let me be with you. Let me take that pain away,” I whisper, planting soft kisses on his cheek. “It is my duty, as you have taken away mine.”

Meremon’s arms come around me and he buries his face in my neck. “I knew you were braver than me,” he says, so softly that I almost can’t hear it. “I knew that if I only waited long enough it would all be good in the end.”

A moment later Meremon releases me to dig into the pocket of his robes. He pulls out a ring, a silver band with a sapphire so dark it is almost black. He fumbles for my left hand and slides the ring onto my third finger.

“There are no ceremonies for wedding a necromancer,” he whispers, his lips close to mine. “Only a promise. Will you be my wife, deliciae, in death and in death?”

His hands holding mine are cold and they could remain that way for the rest of our lives. I might never break his curse. I have to decide now if he’s enough for me, just as he is.

But as soon as I ask myself that question I realize there’s no question at all.

“In death and in death,” I whisper back, and press my mouth against his lips. His wintry kiss steals the breath from my lungs.

Meremon takes my hand in his, threading his fingers through mine and holding on tightly. Now I am complete, bearing both his ring and his mark on the same hand.

Back home we me we make our way to his bedroom, which I’ve never been in before. Meremon conjures a fire in a grate so dusty that I’m sure it hasn’t been used in decades, and more blankets for the bed so I don’t get cold.

He undresses me lovingly before the flames, the heat and light burnishing my body. He holds me close and kisses me, whispering that I’m his bride, that he’ll always cherish and protect me.

“Will you take off your clothes, my husband?” I ask, going up on my toes to wrap my arms around his neck.

His smile is tight and sad. “There is little point, deliciae. I am dead as a corpse.”

But we should both be naked on our wedding night, and hold each other close. Skin against skin. “Please, Meremon? For me?”

Reluctantly he undresses, pulling off his layers of robes. He’s as beautiful as I thought he would be, with smooth skin across his shoulders and rough hair across his chest and trailing down his belly. His limbs are long and thickened with muscle. I touch him everywhere, wanting to learn him by heart, even the soft parts between his legs, showing him that I’m not afraid or repulsed. Finally he scoops me up in his arms and carries me to the bed, meaning to lick me and give me the release he can feel I need.

But I tell him to wait a moment, and to roll onto his back. Exasperated, he does as I asks, though he frowns and says, “Rhona, my heart. What are you about?”

“I wanted to tell you something.” I stroke my hand through his long silver hair and press the black mark on my hand against his cheek.

“Oh yes?” he says, amused.

“I love you,” I say softly, and kiss his mouth. I keep my eyes open and I see his widen. But nothing happens and my heart plummets through my chest.

It hasn’t worked. Tears start into my eyes. It didn’t work.

A hot ripple goes through his body and he gasps as if he’s dying. “What’s happening to me? I feel like I’m burning up.”

I place my hands on his chest and his flesh is warm, and what’s more I can feel his heart racing. I give a shout of triumph and throw my arms around his neck. Something thick and hot nudges against my thighs and when I wriggle back we both see his penis, standing erect and straining. He stares at himself, his eyes wide, and then up at me.

A smile breaks over his face. “Rhona! What did you do?”

“Love’s kiss,” I say with a smile. “It breaks almost any curse.”

He takes my left hand in his and holds it against his pounding heart. “You love me? Even when I was only half a man?”

“Meremon, you were always a whole man, with a whole heart.”

He groans and pulls me against his chest, pressing kisses to my face, my lips. His mouth is warm and his skin has flushed pink. “My Rhona. I love you, too.”

“Can I touch you?” I ask, shyly indicating his erection.

“Please,” he breathes.

I run my hand gently up and down his length, my touch feather-light, and he groans loudly and falls back against the bed. His length is iron hard, encased in velvety softness and ridged with veins. I marvel at the flush of pink to his flesh, not as warm as mine but far warmer than how he once felt. I lean over and take him in my mouth, sucking him tenderly, taking in more and more of him. Meremon clasps me by the shoulders and watches me, breathing hard.

“It is too much. I’m going to die of happiness.”

“My love,” I say, licking him teasingly, “you can’t die and leave your new wife a virgin.”

He growls and scoops me up in his arms, and rolls me beneath him. “I can make love to my wife,” he cries, as if the thought just occurred to him. I slide my legs around him and pull him closer, both our hands stroking over his length and guiding it toward me.

His smile is crooked. “It has been some time. I hope I remember how.”

“I hope so, too. It’s not like I’ve done this before.”

Both of us laughing, he sheaths himself inside me, not very deep but just enough for me to feel the thickness of him and marvel at the beauty of our joining. He kisses me almost drunkenly and gathers me into his arms, whispering my name. “My angel. My sweet girl. I think I will hurt you a little. Are you afraid?”

“With you? Never.”

He thrusts into me once, and then again. It hurts for a moment and I bury my face in his shoulder, crying out, but then lose myself in the feel of him, filling me over and over, his hot thickness stretching my flesh.

He watches me with wonder, his eyes drinking in the sight of my body beneath his. His breath is hot and ragged against my mouth as he kisses me between thrusts. After a moment he pulls his length out of me, seeming to marvel at the sight of it, thick and hard and slick with my wetness. Then he penetrates me again with a groan. He does this again, and then pulls out to put his mouth on my sex, the strokes of his tongue sweetened with his happiness. He pushes two fingers into me as he licks the hard nub at the top of my sex, rubbing firmly on a place that feels so good that I come apart in no time at all, clenching hard around his fingers.

“I need to feel you do that on my cock,” he whispers urgently, sheathing himself inside me once again, pushing as deep as he can go. As he pounds into me he rubs my pearl with his thumb and I can feel another peak approaching fast.

“I don’t want this to end,” he tells me, sliding his hand into my hair to cradle my head. “You feel like heaven, my Rhona. Hot and tight and perfectly made, just for me.”

I can feel my peak cresting closer but I open my eyes and look at him, trying to form the words to tell him how I’m feeling. “I am. I am made just for you. Only for you, Meremon.”

I cry out his name and hold him tightly as I climax around him, his own body growing hot from his own release. His thrusts at the end are rough and victorious. I’ve never seen him look more beautiful.

Breathing hard we sink back on the bed, arms tight around each other. He kisses my cooling skin softly, wonderingly, wiping the sweat from his brow, pressing his hand to his chest. “My heart beats for you. I love you with everything that I am, my Rhona.”

I brush my lips across his warm mouth. “And I love you.” My heart feels so full, and here with him, with the crackling fire and his body warm around mine, I feel as if our happiness is complete.

I fall into a doze and wake a short time later with Meremon’s fingers playing across my naked body. He’s watching me with a smile on his face and an expression as sleek and pleased as a well-fed cat.

“What are you thinking about, my love?” I ask him, smiling, certain that I know.

He rolls one of my nipples with his circling thumb. “I have been going over all the new possibilities for pleasuring you. I had plans for new inventions to try on you, you see. But now that I am properly your husband there are even more possibilities.”

I prop my chin on my hand and affect an innocent look. “Nice, normal things? Like the nice, normal husband you are?”

Meremon’s smile widens and it’s a pointed, wicked smile. He pulls me against him and his mouth seeks my ear, and he whispers, “Soporus.”

My limbs grow limp and heavy and a feeling of such delicious lassitude spreads through my body. He rolls me onto my belly hold my wrists behind my back. With his other hand he scratches his fingers luxuriously over my scalp. I watch him out of the corner of my eye, my heart pounding in sweet anticipation. A moment later he takes his hand from my hair to catch a jar that has just floated in and I hear the unmistakable sound of Filax entering the room.

“Nice, normal things?” he murmurs. His knees part my thighs and I feel the cold drip of slime and then the hot, hard length of his cock sliding against my sex. Two cold hands take hold of my ankles. “Oh, not at all, my Rhona. Not at all.”