Free A Necklace of Water by Cate Tiernan Page B

Sophie said. “Please, let’s just talk it out. You know I wouldn’t hurt you for the world.”
    “No, but you would hurt me for
you
,” Manon replied quietly.
    The words stung. Sophie wanted to deny them, but deep down she knew they were true. She’d been willing to sentence Manon to an endless lifetime of unhappiness and frustration just so that she, Sophie, wouldn’t lose her. The really bitter thing was that she hadn’t had to do anything at all—they’d seen that even a much more powerful suicide spell wouldn’t work. If she had done nothing, if she had even pretended to support Manon’s wishes, she would still have had the outcome she wanted.
    And Manon wouldn’t have left her.
    “I’m so sorry,” she said, looking down at her hands, clenched in her lap. “I know it was wrong. You’re right—it was inexcusably selfish of me. But I did it out of love—because I love you so much I can’t bear the thought of living without you.”
    “That’s the thing,” Manon said slowly, standing up. Sophie scrambled to her feet, watching the sweet, perfect face that had frozen in time when Manon was thirteen years old. “I believe that you did it because you couldn’t bear the thought of living alone. But I don’t know if that was about me, really
me
, or just about you being afraid to live alone.” “What are you talking about?” Sophie cried, following Manon to the kitchen. Glancing uncomfortably at Axelle and Marcel, she saw they were watching with undisguised interest. “Manon—can we talk about it in private? Please?”
    “I don’t want to talk about it at all.” Manon’s voice was bleak. She got a glass out of a cupboard and helped herself to some gin and tonic. There was a lime already sliced, and Manon squeezed a piece into her drink, then dropped it in.
    “You have to forgive me.” Sophie was growing ever more alarmed. She and Manon had had fights before—had even broken up for a few days at a time—but that had felt different than this. Manon seemed so cold, so unyielding.
    Manon sipped her drink, watching Sophie over the rim. “No, I don’t.” The words sounded sad rather than angry.
    Sophie’s heart froze. “Manon—can’t you see that I need you? That I love you more than anything?”
    “I believe that you need me.”
    “You think I don’t
love
you?” This was beyond humiliation, having to beg like this. But Sophie was past caring. All that mattered was that Manon relented and came back.
    “I don’t know,” said Manon quietly, touching an ice cube with one fingertip, not looking at Sophie. “Maybe you just can’t be alone.”
    “
What?
Manon, how can you say that?” Sophie exclaimed, feeling close to tears. “I love you! You’re the only person I’ve ever loved!” As soon as the words were out of her mouth, she had a cold, sinking feeling. But maybe Manon wouldn’t remember …
    “That’s not entirely true,” Manon said evenly. “I’ve had a lot of time to think.” She gave a short, bitter laugh. “I mean, a
lot
of time. And now I wonder if I wasn’t always second best.”
    Sophie gaped at her, horrified.
Oh no, oh no, oh no
—
don’t say it, don’t go there
—
    “Compared to how much you loved Marcel.”
    There was dead silence in the small kitchen. Outside, someone shrieked with laughter; a car horn blared. Sophie felt far removed from this bright, untidy kitchen, with plates piled in the sink, Minou leaning down from a counter, pawing through the trash. She stared at Manon’s small, heart-shaped face, aware only of a desperate, desperate hope that she had misheard, that Manon hadn’t just said that in front of these two, that Manon would never betray her …
    … the way she had betrayed Manon the night of the rite.
    Oh goddess.
    Sophie pressed her hand to her mouth, feeling like she was going to be sick.
    “Whaaat?” Axelle asked with fascination, her black eyes darting from Manon to Marcel to Sophie.
    Sophie couldn’t move, couldn’t