The Necromancer’s Light by Tavia Lark
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CHAPTER THREE
Shae
Shae spots the paladin almost immediately. The sun-blazoned white tunic over leather armor stands out like a beacon across the room. Shae nearly sags in relief—the Riverswords lecher told the truth about this, at least.
Then the paladin makes eye contact with him and flinches, and Shae’s stomach drops. Typical.He steels his nerves and crosses the room, ignoring the whispers springing up around him. He can’t help noticing the woman behind the bar crossing her arms in a warding gesture.
A waitress flees from the paladin’s table at Shae’s approach. The paladin doesn’t move, except for a slight furrowing of his brow. “Do you need something, necromancer?”
Shae almost trips over his own feet.
The paladin’s voice isn’t friendly at all, but the low, warm timbre of it sends shivers down Shae’s spine. The man is shockingly handsome—a painting come to life, all broad shoulders and square jaw, wind-mussed blond hair and a hint of stubble. But Shae barely notices that. He’s too enraptured by the man’s aura, the waves of warm and light coming from him. They’re not even touching, but Shae feels warmer than he has in months.
Hoping his desperation doesn’t show on his face, he sits down across from the paladin. “My name is Shae Nightven. I need to hire a sword, and I heard you were looking for work.”
The paladin raises a perfectly rugged eyebrow. “I’m Arthur Davorin of the Radiant Order,” he says after a moment. “And I heard there was a necromancer wandering around town scaring folks.”
Shae folds his hands together on the table, stomach twisting with hope and worry in turn. The paladin—Arthur—certainly sounds skeptical. But he hasn’t rejected Shae yet. This is the worst part, the wondering and waiting, before someone leaves.
“The sooner I hire someone, the sooner I leave.” As much as he wants to make a good impression, he can’t quite keep the exasperation from his voice. “And the sooner I can stop scaring these pitiful souls.”
To his surprise, Arthur chuckles. He leans forward with one forearm on the table, searching Shae’s face for something. There’s a slight flicker of warmth, energy passing through him. Nothing harmful, or Shae’s rings would have deflected it. Probably some sort of detection spell—with the unintended side effect of making Shae’s heart race. He’s never felt Varan magic before. Never tasted so much sunlight from one person.
“My sword might be available, then,” Arthur says eventually. Still skeptical. “If the task doesn’t run counter to my oath.”
Shae has definitely never hired a man like this before. He hasn’t even asked the price or the length of the journey. “I don’t need help raising the dead and terrorizing the peasantry,” he says tiredly, then hesitates. If he asks for too much, will Arthur turn him down? But if he asks for too little, the man won’t believe him. He’s heard tell that Varan paladins can sense truth and lies. In the end, he lowers his voice, so nobody else in the tavern can hear. “I’m going to Lyrisenia, where I want to banish a demon. I can handle the demon, but I need protection on the journey there.”
If I can’t handle Izen, I’m dead anyway.
Arthur gives him another long glance, then sips from his tankard. “All right. As long as we’re not terrorizing the peasantry.” He stretches his hand across the table.
Shae stares at it. The worn edges of the metal gauntlet, and the well-kept gleam of the leather gloves. He hasn’t even named a price yet, and the paladin wants to shake his hand.
“One gold a day, and twenty more when the task is done,” Shae says, wanting everything laid out clearly. “The journey could take anywhere from three weeks to a month.”
“All right,” Arthur says again. “It’s a deal.” He keeps his hand out.
Shae half expects Arthur to yank his hand away, as soon as he remembers what Shae is. But their hands meet across the table, Shae’s dwarfed in Arthur’s larger grasp. His bare fingertips press the leather at Arthur’s wrist, and heat flow through his palm into his veins. Arthur grips his hand firmly and lets go quickly, leaving Shae dazed.
No, that isn’t just the handshake leaving him dazed. His head feels suddenly light, and his stomach clenches painfully. He remembers he hasn’t eaten today, or slept more than an hour at a time in the past three days. He was in too much of a rush to reach Andell before the cold took him.
He unbuttons his coat enough to draw a coin purse from his inner pocket. Not the one with the gold pieces; he pulls out a few copper and flips them onto the table in front of Arthur. “Great. Now, take this and buy me dinner.”
Arthur cocks his head. “You hired a bodyguard, not a servant.”
Shae’s lips tighten. He doesn’t want to whine in front of this gorgeous fireplace of a man. He has too much pride left to explain that the tavernkeep won’t serve him—he saw it clear in her eyes as he entered. “We’ll need a room with two beds as well, unless you want to sleep on the road tonight.”
Arthur sighs, gathers the coin, and heads for the bar. Shae keeps his head down and avails himself of a slice of Arthur’s bread while he’s gone. He knows he’s being rude. His mother would rap his knuckles if she were alive to see him like this. But he’s so hungry, he doesn’t care. He forces himself to eat slowly, and he’s only taken a few bites when Arthur sits back down heavily in front of him. The same waitress as before follows him, setting down a tray with two bowls of stew and a plate of chicken.
“Enjoy, sir,” she says to Arthur. Shae doesn’t look up to see whether she spares him a glance, just reaches for a bowl and spoon.
Coins rattle on the table in front of him, making Shae jump. “Nice lady,” Arthur comments. “She wouldn’t take the coin.”
Shae retrieves the copper with a frown. He highly doubts the tavernkeep was nice about it. More likely she didn’t want to touch a necromancer’s coin.
Arthur starts digging into his own food, and they eat in silence.
***
Shae’s exhausted by the time the waitress—her name is Ilora, and she’s the tavernkeep’s daughter, he learns from her conversation with Arthur, who is predictably good at talking to people—leads them upstairs. She’s braver than her mother if she’s willing to come within arm’s reach of Shae, but she still doesn’t say much to him, and she leaves as soon as they reach their room.
Slumping on the edge of the nearest bed, Shae starts unlacing his boots. He hears Arthur pulling off his own boots across the room, then rustling fabric as he unpacks or repacks his belongings. A nervous tremble runs through Shae’s hands, and he resists the urge to hide his boots and coin under a floorboard.
He’s had to hire some shitty bodyguards over the years. The man who stole his boots in the middle of the night was probably his least favorite of them. That and other bad escorts have made him always nervous the first night he shares a room with a stranger. But it can’t be helped. It’s not like he can sleep well alone.
He sets his second boot on the floor and stretches out his sore legs.
“What time do we need to head out tomorrow?” Arthur asks.
Shae looks up and stares.
The paladin has taken off rather more than just his boots. He stands in the center of the room clad only in a pair of breeches, the thin fabric serving to accentuate the muscular lines of his body. In the lantern light, his rippling abs look washed with gold. Shae’s eyes linger on a golden disc hanging from his neck, glinting against the coarse hair of his broad chest. He wonders if the metal is warm from the heat of Arthur’s body.
“Necromancer?”
The word cuts through Shae’s distraction like an ice-cold knife. Of course. This gloriously handsome man only sees him as a necromancer, a degenerate grave-digger. He may be nice to look at, and his aura may be intoxicating, but he’s no different than anyone else Shae’s met since becoming what he is. Shae can’t let himself get attached; it will only hurt more when Arthur leaves him.
“I’d like to be out of town by noon, but the earlier the better,” he says, remembering the question. He forces his gaze down and away from the distracting abs, and unbuckles his coat. The earlier we leave, the less chance you have to change your mind. “Wake me if you’re up before me. And...”
Don’t leave me alone.
After a moment, there’s a creak of wood and mattress as Arthur sits on the other bed. “And?”
Shae shakes his head, still avoiding Arthur’s gaze. “Nevermind. Goodnight.” He crawls into bed, still dressed in his shirt and trousers, and curls up with his back to Arthur. Closing his eyes, he listens intently as heavy footsteps crisscross the room, pouring water and moving bags. Arthur’s presence, even without words, fills the room. His warmth surrounds Shae from the tips of his fingers to the depths of his soul, and it’s not as good as touching him would be, but it’s enough to ease the cold from his aching bones.
Exhaustion carries him into headlong into uneasy dreams, until piercing pain wakes him in the dead of night. A quick cold snap like a broken bone, except the pain slices far deeper into his soul. Shae’s fists clench, and he goes rigid in bed. Breathes. Tries to breathe. Tries to count, but he can’t get past one, one, one, his eyes wide open.
The shadowed room isn’t as dark as the fear seizing his heart.
He knows what this pain is, and he knows it will pass. It’s the reason he’s returning to Charain and Lyrisenia now, after years of wandering abroad and running from remembered hurts. Another line of the binding array has broken. If the whole thing falls, Izen will be free.
And Shae will be stuck with this cursed magic forever.
The pain fades more quickly than usual. He hears another set of breaths from across the room, and it’s easier to listen to them than his own. He closes his eyes again, and when the shivering stops, he counts Arthur’s breaths until he falls asleep.