Izen reeks of blood and death. The full, cold weight of the corpse he wears presses against Shae’s body. The intimacy crawls down Shae’s spine, more sickening than the reek of death. There’s no warmth in the touch. None of the relief that usually comes from human contact.
“You can’t kill me,” Shae wheezes. “Or you’ll go back to the realm you came from.”
“I can kill all your little friends, though,” Izen says with a wet, coughing laugh. The dead man’s face spreads in a horrible grin. “All these delicious souls you brought for me to devour.”
Shae’s stomach drops. He can’t see if anyone else is still standing. He can’t hear anything besides the terrified pounding of his own heart.
“And I can do this.” Izen’s eyes flash red, and he leans forward. The corpse’s cold lips press against Shae’s.
He freezes, too shocked to struggle. Bile rises in his throat. An awful, cold tongue nudges against the seam of his lips for a moment that lasts far too long.
Then he can’t feel the kiss, because pain recoils through him. Sharp. Cold. A door slamming inward, a window shattering outward. His ears ring with the crackle of power. The jagged edges of a broken spell. His knees buckle, and only the grip on his throat keeps him upright.
The array is gone. Izen is free.
The demon laughs against his lips, a horrible rattling sound, and draws away. His hand loosens around Shae’s throat, and he hisses something Shae doesn’t understand. Eyes burning red, he lifts his face towards the sky.
“I’ll be back for you, Shaesarenna,” Izen says gleefully, before the corpse he wears crumples to the ground. A whirlwind of shadows bursts from it and races away into the sky.
Shae’s ears are still ringing. He can’t hear anything else as he collapses beside the corpse.
?
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
Arthur
The scouting party commandeered a local farmer’s barn to hold Ronan. Arthur swings from Duchess’s saddle as soon as they reach it. The ride was quick, but Arthur’s too warm under his tunic. His hand itches for his sword. He leaves it sheathed at his saddle, so he doesn’t do something he’ll regret.
The sun barely crests the treetops, and the early sunbeams break through the branches as if through the windows of the Bright Cathedral. The barn was once painted blue, but now only flecks of color remain against the gray wood. Doors on each side open from stalls into animal pens, with pigs on one side and goats on the other. Behind the barn, the small plot of land is lush green, nearly ready for harvest. There are three horses already tied to the fence, and Karis the squire waits near them. He darts to Captain Tanner as she dismounts.
“Stazie and Harry have him inside.” He adds, as if he’d forgotten, “Sir.”
Arthur expects Tanner to bark at the boy for the disrespect, but she doesn’t seem to notice. “Excellent work.” She turns to the rest of them—Arthur, Freya, and Bernard. “You lot stand guard out here. Arthur, I’m sure you have a lot to say to Vizia. I’ll call you in a minute.”
“Yes, sir,” he says, and watches her stiff, straight back disappear into the barn. He tethers Duchess with the other horses, checking her tack just to have something to do with his hands.
He doesn’t actually have a lot to say to Ronan Vizia.
He’s so close to finally being able to askwhy, but something feels off. Disappointing. Tanner asked him to stay to help catch Ronan, but he hasn’t actually done anything. He was asleep while an eighteen-year-old kid found Ronan overnight. Not exactly the heroic redemption Arthur was offered.
He pats Duchess’s neck and joins Bernard at the treeline.
“Why the long face?” Either Bernard is more perceptive than usual, or Arthur’s mood is just that obvious.
“It just feels a little weird,” Arthur says. “I’ve spent all year running around on my own, wondering what Ronan is doing. And now I’m here with you guys, and Ronan’s been captured, and it’s almost all over.”
Bernard laughs. “How is that weird? I thought you’d be thrilled about all this.”
Arthur rubs his chin and stares out into the brightening forest. He remembers how it felt to wake up alone. “I thought so too,” he says quietly. “I don’t know. Maybe it just feels wrong that I had to break a contract to stay here.”
“A contract?” Bernard laughs again, far too loudly for the serene stillness of the morning. “How bad did that corpse-fucker mess with your head? You don’t need to honor—”
Arthur punches him.
He doesn’t realize what he’s doing until Bernard is already staggering back, covering his nose.
“Radiance, what the fuck?” Blood trickles past the man’s fingers.
