The Necromancer’s Light by Tavia Lark

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CHAPTER FOUR

Arthur

By morning, Arthur thoroughly regrets agreeing to this job. He’s shared rooms with clients before, but never with anyone who tossed and turned as much as Shae did. More than once, he lay awake staring at the ceiling and fantasizing about tying the necromancer up from head to toe, so he couldn’t keep thrashing about in his sleep.

He’d really expected Shae to sleep like a rock. The man looked absolutely exhausted over dinner. Dark magic must take a lot of effort.

At least his annoyance at Shae keeps him from ruminating over Ronan, the way he spends most nights.

Arthur rises with the sun, long years of training turned habit. He faces east—a plain wooden wall—and silently recites the morning prayer. The words feel like habit too. They don’t have the same reverent resonance they had when he first learned them. It’s foolish to hope he’ll have an answer, an echo of last night’s flame in his heart, but he’s still disappointed to get nothing.

Once he dresses, he moves to Shae’s bedside, intending to shake him awake as requested. But one look at him stops Arthur short. Finally fast asleep and not tossing and turning, Shae looks like a completely different person from the prickly necromancer Arthur met the night before. His face is softer, his lips barely parted and his long lashes kissing his cheeks. Beneath his pale skin, delicate purple shadows circle his eyes. He hasn’t taken off his gloves, and his thin fingers clasp before him as if bound.

He still looks exhausted. Necromancer or no, Arthur doesn’t have the heart to wake him. He’ll go downstairs alone and bring breakfast back up. Shae will probably be grateful he doesn’t have to talk to people, judging by the way he avoided Marion and Ilora last night.

The trip barely takes ten minutes, and five of those are spent chatting with Marion and reassuring her that he’s keeping an eye on the wicked necromancer. Her fears are overblown and more superstition than anything else, but it’s easier to reassure her than correct her.

He returns laden with a tray of food to find Shae awake, perched on the edge of his bed. The moment Arthur opens the door, the necromancer whips his head around and leaps to his feet.

“Where the fuck were you?” he snaps.

There’s something almost funny about the skinny necromancer trying to menace him, like a kitten with his fur bristling. Arthur sets the tray on the table. “Just grabbing breakfast,” he says. “You looked like you could use some extra sleep.”

The way Shae hisses at him does nothing to dispel the impression of an angry kitten. He stalks up and jabs his finger into Arthur’s chest. “I told you to wake me up. I didn’t hire you to disappear on me.”

Arthur takes a deep breath. Kitten or no, he needs to set some boundaries.

“You hired me as a bodyguard, not a nursemaid,” Arthur growls, grabbing Shae’s narrow wrist. Not hard—he knows his own strength very well—but Shae freezes, wide-eyed and silent, at the touch. “You were perfectly safe in here. If you weren’t, we wouldn’t have stayed at this inn. Unless there’s something you’re not telling me, which is on you.”

Shae’s elfin features flush pink. Anger or embarrassment. He stays frozen a moment longer before yanking his arm away, rubbing his wrist even though Arthur knows he didn’t grab it hard enough to hurt. His gaze goes distant, and he doesn’t say anything.

Arthur crosses his arms. “I’m serious. If there’s anything about this job I need to know, you need to tell me. Otherwise, I’m out.”

“Of course,” Shae says stiffly. “My apologies. I intended to tell you more as we traveled.”

“I’d prefer if you told me now.” Arthur sits down at the table and starts separating out his portion of egg and sausage. He glances at Shae’s cold expression again, then sighs and touches his pendant through his shirt. The breath sinks into his magic and rises with the familiar sunlight-warmth in his heart. Just a touch. The only outward sign is a brief glimmer in the air. “I’ll know if you lie to me.”

From the way Shae jumps, he feels the spell. For a second, Arthur wonders if he might have accidentally hurt the necromancer—necromancy is dark magic, and Vara’s Radiance is the purest of light. But Shae doesn’t look pained, just surprised.

“Is this a truth spell?”

“Yes.” Arthur pushes some food onto another plate for Shae. “It won’t make you answer anything against your will, and it won’t make you tell the truth. I’ll just know if you lie.”

Shae’s nose wrinkles. “Fine. The demon I spoke of is bound in an array in Lyrisenia, but he can possess dead creatures for a certain radius. I fear that radius has grown wider over the past few years, and I know the array holding him is weakening.” He sits down across from Arthur. “Despite all my warding, the closer I get, the harder it is to hide. I don’t know if he will see me coming and send his corpses to finish me off early.”

There’s no change in the faint ball of sun-warmth settled around Arthur’s heart. The necromancer’s telling the truth, so far.

“Do you know his name?” Arthur sets down his fork. “Is he your patron?”

“His name is Izen. Don’t repeat it out loud—these rings are the only reason I can say it without him hearing.” He waves his left hand, the rings in question heavy around his thin fingers. “And… yes. We have a history. I prefer not to talk about that.”

There are codes of conduct around use of the truth spell. Even without them, Arthur doesn’t want to push. He just wants to know if he’s being lied to, not drag the necromancer’s dark secrets out of him. “Fair enough. Is it likely you’ll be ambushed by corpses in the middle of town? Do I need to be ready for battle before breakfast?”

Shae looks down. “I don’t know.” The truth. “It’s all right if we separate briefly. As long as I know where you are, I’ll be fine.”

That’sa lie. Arthur’s magic ripples cold.

The only lie Shae’s told, and it doesn’t make sense. It’s the most normal thing the necromancer’s said all morning—why would it be a lie? But he’s got the information he wanted. Fighting down his curiosity, he releases the spell.

Again Shae flinches, almost imperceptibly.

“Sorry about that,” Arthur says cheerfully, not feeling sorry at all. “I hope you can understand my concerns.”

“It’s fine,” Shae mutters.

It’s impossible to tell whether that’s a lie as well.

***

“Hey, princess,” Arthur calls out as they enter the stables. Dust swirls gold in the morning light, and Duchess’s elegant nose immediately appears from the stall window. “Have you finished your breakfast yet?”

Evidently so. Instead of dropping her head behind the stall door to continue eating, her ears remain pointed expectantly in his direction. He laughs and steps forward to stroke her nose.

The stablehand’s voice sounds from the tack room at the end of the barn. “Are you leaving? Give me a second, I’ll get her tacked up for…”

Wyatt emerges from the tack room only to stop short, voice trailing off. His handsome freckled face whitens as if seeing a ghost, and Arthur’s confused for a moment before he remembers the necromancer lurking behind him. He glances over his shoulder to see Shae’s face twisting in a scowl.

“That would be great,” Arthur says with a smile. “We’re ready to head out.”

But Wyatt’s no longer the cheerful, friendly man who flirted with Arthur the night before. His shock settles into a grim expression. “Sorry, I just remembered Ilora needed me in the kitchen. Your tack’s all in there, you can grab it yourself.”

Arthur doesn’t need any magic to know he’s lying, but he doesn’t call him on it. “All right. Thanks for taking care of my girl.”

“Of course, sir. You have a safe journey.”

Unfortunately for Wyatt, the nearest route to the inn is beyond the pair of them. He has to walk right past them to get out, and just as he’s passing them, Shae says, deadpan, “Boo.”

Wyatt jumps half out of his skin and sprints the rest of the way to the inn.

Arthur sighs. “That wasn’t necessary.” He’s getting the sense that Shae doesn’t get along well with people. Probably safest not to ask if he’d ever considered the problem might be his personality as much as the necromancy. “Come on, let me introduce you to Duchess.”

It’s Shae’s turn to look nervous now. He steps up to the stall, but still hangs back a bit behind Arthur. “She’s… pretty.”

There are a lot of other words hiding in that pause, Arthur figures. Big. Scary. Seriously big. Duchess stands seventeen hands at the shoulders, and she’s all muscle. Shae’s far from the first person to find her intimidating. But if Shae has an issue with his horse, this job is going to be a problem.

“I’m guessing you don’t spend a lot of time around horses.”

“We didn’t have them growing up,” Shae answers. “I don’t know how to ride.”

“If everything goes well you won’t need to.” Arthur scratches under her forelock, and she leans into the petting. She hasn’t even looked at Shae yet, focused completely on Arthur. “Mostly she’ll just be carrying our packs, and we’ll walk unless we need a quick getaway. Here, give her this.”

He holds a cookie out to Shae. Duchess’s ears immediately swivel in the necromancer’s direction, finally acknowledging his existence.

“Lay your hand out flat and move slow. She won’t bite.” Thanks to very careful training, but Shae doesn’t need to know about that.

He steps back and watches like a hawk as Shae edges forward. The necromancer follows Arthur’s instructions to the letter, slowly offering the hard cookie in the center of his gloved palm.

Duchess delicately lips the cookie from his hand, barely even touching Shae. Crunching noises fill the barn, and she looks between Arthur and Shae, ready for the next treat even as she’s still eating the first.

Great, Duchess likes him. Now as long as…Arthur peers at Shae’s face, and all his thoughts disintegrate until they’re no more than the dust in the air.

The necromancer’s smiling. He’s practically glowing, eyes shining as he stares up at Duchess. There’s something fragile about the expression, and Arthur wonders when the last time he smiled was. Wonders what it would take to get him to smile again.

“She’s so nice.” Shae turns to Arthur. “Can I pet her?”

Arthur wonders how he’ll survive the direct force of Shae’s smile turned towards him. His blood pools low in his stomach. “Absolutely,” he says gruffly. “Stay away from her ears, but feel free to pet her while I tack up.”

He strides towards the tack room, fantasizing about snow and cold rivers in an attempt to bring his sudden arousal down. Not that Shae would notice, given how distracted he is by the most beautiful horse in the world. Arthur takes his time gathering his tack anyway.

Working with a necromancer is one thing. Lusting after one is something else entirely. He has just a month and a half left in his penance, and anything that distracts him from his faith is dangerous.

The laws of Charain don’t forbid necromancy entirely, and the doctrine of the Radiant Order doesn’t forbid dealings with necromancers. But neither the government nor any of the country’s faiths encourage the practice. There are too many necromancers who’ve progressed dangerously far beyond permitted tasks like questioning murder victims or laying wandering spirits to rest. When Arthur stands trial after his penance, he needs to be able to say with a clean heart, under the truth spell, that all he has done has been righteous. Dallying with darkness won’t look good on his record at all.

Even if darkness is extremely attractive when he smiles.

He’s made that mistake before.