Lux twitched involuntarily in her seat. She gasped a quick breath and hoped the boy would be too tired to notice. Because for a moment she’d heard it—the devouring forest—although this time it was different, more melodic. Another voice harmonized with the ghostly sigh of its own. She shuddered.
“I cannot begin to tell you how little I care.”
So help me, I will kill him.“Excuse me?”
In a sudden movement, his hands dropped from his eyes, and the fierceness of his attention startled her. Did she really deserve the animosity she saw there?
“For what purpose? Thinking of turning my name into the Shield? Or toss it up to the mayor himself?”
Lux dropped her voice, nettled. “Believe it or not, Prowler, I hate the mayor and his precious guards even more than you.” It came across a touch more menacing than she intended, but what could she do? He grated at every nerve.
His lips parted in disgust. “What did you call me?”
“It’s my nickname for you. Until you decide to tell me your real name.”
“That is by far the worst—”
“Is it?” Her lips quirked. The truth was she’d come up with far more intriguing ones since they’d last met. None of which would garner his assistance, however. If anything, he might stab her, too.
His gaze dipped to her mouth. “I’m a man, Necromancer. Not some dimwitted boy playing in the dark.”
Lux ran a finger down the bar’s sticky length, immediately regretting the decision as she eyed the result in disgust. “Pity the reminder, but your dead self did get dragged through the streets by your waif of a sister…and required a girl younger than yourself to revive you. A man? I’m afraid you must convince me.”
His eyes narrowed, and Lux grew very happy they were in a public place. “Shaw.”
“Shaw…?”
“Roser.”
“Okay, Shaw Roser. Why do you believe the mayor is some everlasting creature?”
He made a show of returning his ale to the ring it’d left on the bar top. “I would think you’d know better than anyone.”
“Why?” It was less a snarl than a growl. A commendable effort, she thought.
“Devil’stits,” he grumbled.
Lux opened her mouth to demand he answer, when without warning, he leaned forward, mercilessly crowding her in. His voice cut between them, unforgiving and brutal, “Maybe it’s thatyou’ve revived him time and time again. Or maybe,perhaps,it’s because you’ve lived in his mansion.Maybeit’s because we would have been rid of the lot of them several times over if it weren’t foryou.Tell me how it feels,Necromancer. Tell me first how your conscience has dealt with your subscribing to this terror before you come for mine.”
Those final words knocked her like a fist to the gut. Lux took quick note of the number of people now intently focused on their conversation. Her whisper fell into a strangled hiss. “You know a lot of details about my life.”
“Don’t flatter yourself, love. I know a lot of details abouthislife.”
He leaned away, and she shuddered a breath outside his line of sight. She couldn’t allow him to see her undone. “Necromancy can’t extend a lifetime. I would think someone as all-knowing as you would understand that.”
Though he’d be far from the first who hadn’t. The fear of her own brilliance grew crippling following her parents’ deaths, made all the worse by the continued rumors and misunderstandings surrounding it. The darkness had burrowed deeper and still, she couldn’t ignore her gift.The Risenwhispered to her in the night, and her heart had yearned to answer.
Shaw’s chair scraped over worn wood. “Have a nice day, Necromancer.” The way he said it sounded as if he sincerely hoped she would not.
She wouldn’t allow him to escape a second time. Scrambling from her stool, she stepped in his path. He stood anyway, the barest breadth between them, and she vaguely registered she only reached his chest as she lifted her eyes.
“I need toknow.”
“I’m tired. Please go away.”
“This girl bothering you, Shaw?” With a hearty laugh, the brew-spattered barkeep scooped the empty pint from its perch.
“No.”
