Page 82 of As Many Souls as Stars
‘I know,’ Rosamund said once more.
‘Who was that man, at the bar?’
She smiled. ‘What? Walter? That’s my husband.’
‘Yourhusband?’
‘Oh, my love,’ Rosamund murmured, and she took a step closer to her, laying a palm on her chest. ‘You needn’t be jealous. You killed me once—twice, really, if you count Cybil—and you’ll do it again in a few days. I am as much yours as I’ve ever been. And I am angry, of course, but not overly so. What’d be the use? I’ve spent years trying to figure out a way to escape you, and now, finally, I’ve accepted that I can’t. We might as well enjoy each other while we’re here.’
‘Enjoy each other,’ Miriam repeated, frowning.
Rosamund cocked her head. When she spoke this time, it was an echo in Miriam’s mind, as tender as a whisper, as loud as a scream.Haven’t you missed me?
Miriam looked at Rosamund properly now, dragging her gaze away from those uncanny eyes. Her soul was radiant in her chest—so bright it no longer seemed to be a single point of light, but rather a glow that was diffused throughout her entire body, making her luminous. What sort of magic such a soul could perform, Miriam could hardly imagine. It would more than match her own capabilities. It’d match anyone’s.
‘You forgive me,’ Miriam said, sceptically.
Rosamund shrugged. ‘What else is there to do?’
‘Cybil didn’t forgive me. Esther didn’t forgive me.’
She sighed, crossing her arms. ‘I— Look. Do you know what an ant mill is?’
‘I’m afraid I don’t.’
‘Sometimes, ants start walking in a death spiral. They walk round and round in a circle, over and over, until they die of exhaustion.’
Miriam blinked. ‘Why do they do that?’
‘They’re following the trails of the other ants in front of them, and they’re following the ones in front, and so on… They don’t realise they’re going nowhere.’
‘Tragic,’ Miriam said, without sympathy. ‘Your point is?’
‘Esther repeated Cybil’s mistakes. She allowed herself to trust you, believing she could find salvation; I won’t do the same. We both know how this ends. I don’t see much point in fighting it.’
‘You’re ready to die.’
‘I’ve been ready since the moment I remembered you,’ Rosamund said. ‘I remembered you, Miriam, and I knew that the only death I’d ever want would be the one you’ll give me.’
The ship hit a wave, and it lurched, sending Rosamund tumbling backwards. Miriam surged forward to catch her. Then they were touching, pressed against each other. Rosamund’s hand was on her chest, eyes bright as they met hers. She smelt like perfume, dark and sweet; there was a small chicken-pox scar on her collarbone that she hadn’t had in her previous forms. And for a moment, she washerHarding entirely, the one that Miriam had laughed with and betrayed and made love to, who had died so prettily in her arms that Miriam was certain she’d never see anything lovelier.
But it wasn’t her Harding. It was Rosamund, and Rosamund was something else, languid and seductive and willing in a way Esther and Cybil had never been. And there was something cold, something restrained glimmering behind her inviting expression—that, at least, Miriam recognised.
Miriam released her, suddenly disturbed. Rosamund stepped back, lips pressed thin. She looked back to the stars, curling her fingers around the metal railing. Her wedding ring—a diamond the size of a cherry pit—glinted red in the lights of the deck.
‘It’s a three-day journey,’ Rosamund said. ‘Will you be gentle, once it’s done?’
‘Yes.’
‘That’s all I can ask for.’
‘I didn’t want this.’
‘Didn’t want what?’ she asked, eyebrows knitting together. ‘My soul?’
‘Your surrender,’ Miriam said. ‘I wanted you to fight, as you used to. I wanted your fury and your violence and your pain. Those are the things that I love about you. You know that as well as I do.’
Rosamund leaned over, pressing a kiss to her cheek. ‘Iamfighting, darling,’ she replied. ‘Machiavelli once said that the best way to defeat an enemy is to do voluntarily what she plans to make you do by force.’
