“Don’t touch me,” Shae snaps, jerking away. He takes a deep breath, striving to reach a cool, rational calm, because otherwise this won’t work. He’ll throw everything away and stay here with Arthur. “I’ll hire someone else,” he says, and doesn’t try to keep the bitterness from his voice. “I don’t need youspecifically.”
“Shae,” Arthur says quietly.
“It’s just a job, right?” Shae laughs. He flips Sparrow’s reins over his neck and starts digging through his coat pockets. Finding his coin purse, he counts out ten gold. “Here, this should cover what I owe you.”
Arthur grimaces. “I don’t need the money.”
“Fine.” Shae drops the coins on the ground. They clink together in the dirt. Fortunately, he manages to swing onto Sparrow’s back on his first try, instead of faceplanting to the ground on top of the coins.
“If you insist on leaving, let me at least escort you back to town,” Arthur says, reaching for Duchess’s tether.
“If you follow me,” Shae says, “I will kill you.” He tugs Sparrow around and kicks him into a trot. Doesn’t look back, just focuses on the road as it blurs in front of him. His eyes sting. With every jarring step, the warmth fades from his body, leaving his fingers cold around the reins.
There’s no sound behind him. No final call, no pounding hooves of Arthur catching up. Shae tries to tell himself he isn’t disappointed.
***
Shae’s spent years learning the limitations of his magic. Learning how long he can go without human contact. When his amber earring is fully charged with living aura, he can last nearly a day before the power is expended and he begins to truly hurt.
Lanwatch is only an hour’s ride out of town, and Shae expects to reach the gate cold, but otherwise whole.
But only half an hour out of camp, knifelike chills slice through his lungs. He gasps, hands spasming, and the reins slip from his fingers. Sparrow comes to a halt, confused, as Shae hunches over, choking for breath. He braces himself on the horse’s soft shoulders, barely feeling the rounded muscle beneath the fur. His fingertips already look faintly blue. It shouldn’t be happening this fast, why—
Another pain arcs through him, like lightning coursing from his heart to his palms.
He grits his teeth, blinking through the sudden sparks in his eyes, and knows one more line of the array broken. Izen is one step closer to freedom.
Ears still ringing with pain, Shae forces his numb fingers around the reins again and kicks. Sparrow takes one step forward, ears back and listening. No doubt wondering what the fuck his rider is doing, off-balance and trembling. The horse sets forward into a steady walk when Shae kicks again.
Shae’s vision tunnels down to the dirt road before them and the points of Sparrow’s ears twitching back and forth. He’s halfway to town, and part of him desperately wants to turn around and race back to Arthur. He wants to soak in the warmth and safety he’s never known anywhere else.
But Arthur isn’t safe. Shae knew that from the start, and he shouldn’t have forgotten it. Arthur’s calling is more important to him than anything else. He was always just passing time with Shae, waiting for a reason to leave Shae behind. Even though he was kind. Even though he saw through Shae’s defenses to the heart he wanted so badly to hide.
That connection was enough for Shae to drop his guard. But it wasn’t enough to make Arthur stay.
Arthur would probably feel bad if he learned Shae died of cold in the middle of summer. Shae tries to derive a petty, ugly satisfaction from that, but it’s hard to feel anything, bitter or sweet, as he keeps riding. Sparrow seems to move at a crawl, barely lifting each hoof as he walks forward. Shae wants to kick him faster, but he’s afraid he’ll fall off at the trot. He’s swaying in the saddle as it is.
Some time later—it feels like hours but it can’t be that long—he senses a flicker of warmth ahead. Like a candle in a blizzard. Relief washes through his shivering limbs. Friend or foe, he doesn’t care. He just needs someone.
Rounding a corner, he sees a group of people on horseback. One of them calls out, a voice he recognizes but can’t quite place, “Necromancer?”
He opens his mouth to answer, but the words get lost before they reach his lips. The road and trees blur in front of him, and he slumps sideways in the saddle. He’s unconscious before he hits the ground.
***
He wakes up, bruised and aching but no longer freezing to death. He can feel his hands. They’re cold, but cold is normal. He can deal with that. Even if he’s gotten used to waking up in warm arms, with warm lips against his neck. Even if he’s gotten weak to safety.
Keeping his breath steady, as if he’s still asleep, he takes stock of his surroundings. He’s lying down on something soft, fabric scratching his cheek, and sounds slowly filter into his awareness. A crackling fire before him. Voices behind him. Laughter. Rattling dice.
He recognizes the loudest voice. That Riverswords captain, Georgia Oakven. Shae’s eyes slit open, and he finds himself on a couch before a fireplace. The white walls are hung with broken swords and bows and axes. Trophies—though whether they belonged to the Riverswords members or their enemies, Shae doesn’t know. He assumes he’s in the Lanwatch outpost.
He sits up, hissing with pain as his left shoulder moves. He can’t remember anything clearly, but he’s pretty sure he fell off his horse. Nothing’s broken, but he’s going to be feeling the bruises for a while.
A rough male voice says, “Georgia, he’s up.”
“Thanks, darling,” Georgia answers. Shae turns on the couch, not trusting his legs enough to stand yet, to see her drop a handful of dice on the wooden table. She grabs a tankard and walks over to Shae, winking when they make eye contact.
The men and women at the table resume their game, and Georgia perches on the arm of the couch. The firelight catches in her dark hair. “Sleep well, necromancer?”
