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.
