"He said I am to be his wife. It doesn't make any sense," Marguerite said to Isabella. They sat together in the kitchen, Isabella chopping vegetables while Marguerite stared at the wall.
"Why else did you think he had brought you here?" Isabella said with a flat tone in her voice. Marguerite contemplated this. What had she thought was going to happen after William heaved her up onto his horse and took her away? After putting her under a spell obligating her to do whatever he said, why not seal it with marriage vows?
"The woman at the tavern said he has done this same thing to many women. Am I to assume he has many wives already? What happened to them?"
Isabella shook her head as she began cutting into a carrot.
"Master William does not have a wife right now. But he did once. She was a young beautiful girl named Alanna. Her mother and father betrothed her to William when she was barely more than a baby. As they grew together, William loved her but she always resented him and her obligation to him."
"She was forced to go through with the marriage but no one could convince her to love and respect him as a husband. She shirked all her wifely duties and refused to show him any kindness or affection. One morning Master William woke up and she was simply gone. Rumor has it she was secretly in love with another man and he came in the night to take her away."
"So now he is so desperate for a woman to love and obey him that he uses a magic spell to bend them to his will?"
"Desperate is such an ugly word," William's voice drawled. Marguerite jumped off of her stool and Isabella dropped the knife she held. William stood in the doorway holding a half-eaten apple and smirking. Marguerite found herself drawn to him despite everything she'd just heard.
"I have never been desperate for a woman," William continued, stepping into the room. The midday sun shone through the window and seemed to add a sparkle to his eyes.
"I simply know exactly what I want from them and the best way to get it."
"So you're a wizard then?" Marguerite postured. William took another bite of apple and the clear juice dripped off his chin.
"A student of the dark arts, yes. But not a wizard. It took me many years to perfect this spell and so far it has profited me nothing. But that is all about to change tonight," he said, walking up to Marguerite and putting a single finger under her chin.
"Smile for me," he said simply, and Marguerite felt the corners of her mouth turn upward in compliance.
"My beautiful bride. You will find your dress in you room. Go put it on and make yourself pretty for me. We will be wed at sunset."
"Yes of course," Marguerite answered. William bent over her hand and kissed it, then left the kitchen leaving his soon to be bride staring after him.
"There was another woman once," Isabella said after he'd gone. "Another woman he'd put under his spell. She died giving birth to his child and the little one passed soon after. He was in so much pain I thought he would never find another love. Until you came along."
Marguerite looked over at Isabella who seemed to be frowning now as she put the cut up vegetables into a pot.
"You best go and get dressed," she suggested. "I'll be up to help you in a bit."
Marguerite left the kitchen and trudged up the stairs to her room. Sure enough there was a beautiful long white gown laid across her bed with long sleeves and lace around the neck. She held it up to herself and spun around. A small part of her felt the urge to throw the dress down and run away but even stronger was her desire to obey William.
"It's perfect," she said to herself with a smile.
"And I'm sure it would have looked perfect on you," Isabella said from the doorway. Marguerite looked up to see her standing there staring intently, the vegetable chopping knife clasped firmly in her hand.
"What are you doing, Isabella?" Marguerite asked, her voice quaking.
"I am stopping Master William from making another mistake," Isabella said, taking a step forward. Her eyes were wide and seemed to dart all around taking in the whole room at once. Her hand grasped the knife so firmly her knuckles were white and she kept the tip pointed right at Marguerite.
"Alanna didn't run away to be with another man. I woke her up in the night and put this knife to her throat and told her to leave and never come back. And the other one. I let her bleed out on her bed and did naught to save her. Neither of them deserved to be with William. Only I do. Only I have been loyal to him and loved him all these years. It should be me wearing that white dress walking to meet him, not you."
Isabella's voice rose to a shrill pitch and she raised the knife over her head. Marguerite took a step back and screamed as the knife came down. She ducked to the side and it glanced across her shoulder cutting open her dress and slicing into her skin.
Wincing, she managed to slide around Isabella and make a break for the door. Yanking it open, she lunged forward and landed in the arms of William.
"My love, why are you screaming?" he asked, lines of concern across his face. He took in the image of Isabella behind his bride holding up a knife and immediately pulled Marguerite away.
"What do you think you're doing?" he yelled, his voice echoing in the hallway. Isabella dropped the knife and looked at William with pleading eyes.
"I was doing this for you," she told him. "For us. You don't love her. You don't need her. You have me."
"Isabella, what are you saying?" William asked.
"I am saying I want to be with you," she told him, taking a careful step forward and offering a pitiful smile. "That's why I got rid of the others and why I was about to be rid of her," she explained, gesturing at Marguerite as if she were a piece of unwanted trash.
"I want to be your bride, William," Isabella cooed. "I love you."
"Do you now?" William asked, a coy smirk on his face. Isabella nodded happily, unaware of the precarious situation her heartfelt words had landed her in.
"Well then, do as I tell you now. Walk away from my house and never return."
As Isabella heard his words, the smile vanished from her face and a look of horror replaced it.
"Why are you making me do this?" she asked, her eyes filling with tears as her feet moved to obey.
"You do not love me," William answered shortly. "If you did, you'd not have tried to kill my bride or my other wives. You disgust me and I wish to never see you again."
Isabella walked past William and raised a hand to caress his face one last time but he batted it away.
"Be gone, you evil wench," he spat at her. Her tears turned to sobs as she disappeared unwillingly down the hall.
When she was gone and the house was quiet again, William turned to Marguerite.
"Now where were we, my love? Ah yes, you were about to put on that beautiful-"
William stopped midsentence and his eyes went wide with shock. His skin became deathly pale and he looked down at the knife sticking out of his chest. Marguerite stood in front of him, her hands shaking.
"It seems your spell only works on one woman at a time," she told him.
"When Isabella declared her love for you, I felt as if I'd woken from a dream and I saw you for who you really are: a conniving and controlling wretch of a man. I'd sooner kiss a toad and hope to find a prince than to marry you. And now, no one else will have to suffer at your hands."
William collapsed on the floor at Marguerite's feet, his breath coming in short little bursts.
"My darling," he gasped, reaching out to touch her. She skirted past him and looked down with disgust.
"You will die the way you lived: alone and unloved."
Marguerite pulled her skirts out his reach and walked away resolutely as William took his last breaths.
Reader be warmed by this tale of Marguerite and William and be careful to whom you give your heart. For many people are not who they seem.
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