Page 117 of Wickedly Ever After
Hector sat on the end of the bed. He was holding one of the wilted flowers from the Skeleton Rose, twisting the stalk absently between his fingers . “I’ve restored Tinbit, but I need your help.”
“What’s wrong?”
“He’s the same grouchy, irritable gnome he’s always been—but he won’t talk to me and he says he doesn’t want to see Hari. I want you to talk to him.”
“Me?”
The skeleton pressed his fingers into the wounds, and she yelped.
Hector sighed. “Tinbit had always been somewhat prone to despair. Also, he’s not too happy with me right now, which is completely understandable. There’s nothing pleasant about dying twice. I think you’re in a better position to make a proposal to him.”
“What kind of proposal?”
“I want you to take him home with Hari. I want him to be happy. You see, I won’t be able to give him life again should anything happen to him.”
“Far be it from me to question your skills, but why?”
Hector touched the rose and a single petal fell to the floor. “It took a lot out of me,” he said in quiet tones.
Ida shuddered. “You didn’t. You didn’t kill the dog? The fern? Oh, Gods, Hector—not Napoleon?”
“No, no, they’re fine—well, Spot and Napoleon are. I haven’t checked the fern yet—”
“Hector? Who did you kill?”
He stared up at the ceiling. “Myself,” he said.
“What?” Ida gasped.
“I sacrificed my immortality. Whatever time I’ve got left is all I have.” He smiled. “I’ll take the blame and resign from the Council. Then whatever comes next will be your decision.”
“Hector—” She stared down at the white bones knitting her flesh together with thin, black thread. Whatever medication the skeleton had put on his needlelike fingers, it numbed the wound. She couldn’t feel anything but the pressure of skin touching skin, pulling together, but her eyes stung and she blinked back tears. “Hector—”
“For once in your life, don’t argue with me,” he said, touching her knee gently. “It’s best this way, and you know it. It took me a little longer to understand, but you were right. No one should have this kind of power, no matter how much they want to do good with it.”
“Hector, I don’t want to—”
“One of us had to take full responsibility. You and I both know this is what needs to happen. If the world is ready to let go of Happily-Ever-After, you are the most qualified to guide them—not me.”
“But you thought it wasn’t. Hector, what if—” She half rose from the bed, but the skeleton made a horrid grating sound in protest. She settled back down while it dressed the newly repaired wound with a salve that smelled almost like the rotting roses outside. “What if you’re right? What if they aren’t ready? What if this world falls apart the minute we let go of the strings?”
“It might,” he said, rising. “But that doesn’t matter. You were right. We never had any authority to do what we did.” He sighed. “Maybe that’s why it was doomed to fall apart from the beginning. And you’re the best one to tell them that, too.”
“They won’t believe me! I’m the one who insisted the magic choose. They’ll say I’m the one who didn’t do my job! Don’t you understand? Coming from you—the one witch who was there at the beginning—they’ll listen when you tell them it’s time to give up controlling people’s lives and loves.”
“And what does a wicked witch who kills everything he touches know about life or love? Nothing,” he said. “Logically, you’re the best choice to remain on the council. Now, that’s settled. Will you come with me to see Tinbit?”
She touched her shoulder briefly, but the skeleton swatted her hand and started to fix a bandage. “I’ll go with you.” This wasn’t settled, at all.
***
Hari waited in a chair outside the library, a scared little smile on his face. She turned to Hector.
“I thought Tinbit would be in your workshop.”
“Thisismy workshop,” he said somewhat apologetically. “Once I created my staff, I didn’t need a full necomancy suite anymore, and my books migrated here, and so…”
Ida pushed the door open gently.
