Three (History Plays, Book 2)

9: then wrong for wrong and endless hate for hate

Catherine

I never knew what it meant to drown. I never have in water, but now certainly in the world. I want to be strong. But I'm so full up of all of it every breath is painful. And I feel like my chest is being crushed. I don't know what death is but surely its easier than this. If only I wanted to die.
"I got sent upstairs to find you?" Lodowick walks into my sitting room, looking generally confused and like he wishes he weren't here. He's not a bad sort, for a man, I don't think. "I do not know why he sent me when he wants to speak with you and he's down there —he being—,"
"I know who he is, thank you, Lodowick," I say, nodding. It's been three weeks, longer than I thought he'd give me.
"Best go then," he smiles a little at me but blessedly does not try to tell me I should be glad or anything of that kind. He's currently the most helpful man in my life and he's delivering me to my rapist. That's how bad this situation is.
We walk downstairs to where Edward Windsor is waiting my dining room, feet on the table, knife in each hand and amusing himself by flipping them. When he sees me he catches them and swiftly puts them away, hopping up.
"Leave us, Lodowick," he says, nodding his head.
I tense a little. Lodowick glances at me then dares not disobey oh fucking helpful. He just got knocked off of my meaningless list of possibly valid men, which currently includes 1 former president and my son.
"Well? Is your answer still the same?" Ed Windsor asks, leaning on the back of a chair, a cocky grin still on his face. He's wearing a thin t-shirt, sweater draped around his shoulders, jeans look stained with blood. The short sleeves reveal the tattoos on his arms, on his right arm it's symbols that I'm sure have meaning like a kill count, on the right there's a thick black band, with the words 'evil to him that thinks ill of it' circling above it. I don't want to know what it means. He now stands, muscles in his arms rolling as he leans against the back of the chair, idly, copper eyes shining in the early morning light.
"I can't sleep with you—I won't commit adultery—," I say.
"I've done much worse things I promise you," he grins, "I'm sure if you tried you'd enjoy doing worse as well."
"There are lives standing in the way," I say, my hands tightening on the gun beneath my sweater.
"Name them. I'll end them," he says, immediately.
"My husband, and your wife," I say, my voice cold.
"William would never divorce you," he scoffs.
"I'm saying kill them, end their lives, if you want us to be together," I say, carefully lying the gun on the table. It's a terrible card to play but it's the only one I have.
He laughs, cackling, not even bothering to cover his face, tears coming from his eyes he's laughing so hard. He laughs uncomfortably long, wiping his eyes with the back of his hands. It's not false either, he's just insane. Fuck, he's insane. I take a step back.
"As you will, then they shall die, fair one," he laughs, clearly entertained by the notion.
No.
No.
He was not supposed to say that. What cruel fate is this?
"What?" I actually ask.
"It was your idea. I'm agreeing with you. They shall die, and I'll make a river to you of blood," he laughs, slowly walking around the table towards me, "Come, seal it with a kiss, fair one."
"No," I pick up the gun and hold it to my chest, stepping away from him, "I will not have you, and if you take one more step I'll kill myself where I stand. So unless you want my corpse you will go and never speak to me of this again."
He stops fully in his tracks, which shocks me, hands up, that terrible smile still on his face.