Page 23 of Death Makes the Heart Grow Fonder

Runes were etched into some of the metal pieces, subtle, carved clean. Protective marks. Binding marks. Work that took skill and patience.

My eyes flicked to a wall where a series of blades hung, each different, each gleaming under the overhead lights. Not decorative. Not showroom pieces. Working weapons.

Faith noticed me looking. “Don’t touch.”

“I wasn’t going to,” I said. “I’m admiring from a safe distance.”

Eve moved deeper into the space, gaze sweeping. “No one followed us.”

Andel shut the door behind us and locked it with a heavy click. He turned, arms folded. “Talk.”

Faith didn’t waste time. “The undead aren’t acting right. They aren’t dropping. They’re not responding to force the way they should.”

“And the signature is masked,” I added. “I can’t trace it.”

Andel’s eyes narrowed. “Masked.”

“Yes,” I said. “Like someone wrapped it. I can feel the outline, not the caster.”

Eve’s voice stayed calm. “You’re the only necromancer we know of. Lucinda confirmed.”

Andel’s jaw flexed, irritation flickering. “Lucinda.”

Faith’s mouth tightened. “We didn’t bring her.”

“Good,” Andel said instantly.

I almost laughed, because same.

Andel’s gaze moved between us. “I haven’t raised anyone. I haven’t touched the dead in months.”

“What about someone using your work?” Eve asked. “An artifact, a tool, something you forged that could store that kind of energy?”

Andel’s eyes deepened. “No.”

“Not even a possibility?” Faith pressed.

Andel’s tone turned colder. “If I forged something like that, you’d know. The wards would scream. The metal would hum. It would not be quiet.”

My stomach clenched. “It is quiet.”

Andel stared at me for a long moment, and for the first time, I saw something like unease crack through his control.

“That’s wrong,” he said softly. “Death magic isn’t quiet. It’s heavy. It leaves ash.”

“Exactly,” I said. “So what does it mean when it doesn’t?”

Andel’s gaze went distant for half a second, like he was running through possibilities. “It means someone is using something old. Something that doesn’t behave like modern spellwork.”

Eve’s fingers tightened around her necklace. “An artifact.”

Andel’s jaw tightened. “Or a god.”

Faith’s head snapped up. “Don’t.”

Andel’s eyes didn’t soften. “You wanted the truth. Sometimes the truth is unpleasant.”

The door at the far end of the workshop banged.