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Laying the platform down in a nearby yard, she asks us about food preferences. To my relief, she doesn’t bat an eye at my request for copious amounts of the banana-like fruit and distilled water.

“Also, can you get us real beds instead of the usual zombie contortions that pass for furniture on the road?” Valerian asks. “Or at least one real bed, for Bailey.”

Great. I’m beginning to sound like a prima donna.

Rowan is totally fine with this request as well, and thanks to the zombie labor force, getting the beds and chairs only delays us an extra couple of minutes.

In the end, we have everything, even a leather canopy for the zombies to hold over our heads in case of rain.

Rowan gives us a speaking glance. “If you don’t like going into a chamber pot held by a helper, use the facilities now and do your best not to drink too much.”

“She’s talking to you,” Felix whispers, winking at me conspiratorially.

I pinch his side, eliciting a loud yelp, but I do take advantage of the nearby restroom facilities, as advised.

Everyone settles into their chairs, and we head out.

As we navigate the streets of Necropolis, necromancers follow us with curious eyes. After a few minutes, we spot a dead bird by the side of the road, the kind that had brought zombie reinforcements for Nulen when we first arrived on Necronia.

“Poor thing,” Rowan says and shoots the dead creature with multicolored energy.

The bird flies up and perches on the platform by Rowan’s side, right next to Frank.

I have to admit, her power is rather useful.

“You did a great job back there,” Valerian tells Rowan when we go through the Necropolis gates and start making our way through the zombie wall that surrounds the city.

She smiles. “Thanks. I have to admit, I’ve been trying to get on your good side before asking for a favor.”

We all look at her with varying degrees of wariness.

“You’ve all met Keyser.” She leaps out of her chair and begins to pace the wooden platform.

I wrinkle my nose. “We’ve had the displeasure of making his acquaintance, yes.”

“Well, not marrying him isn’t an option for me,” she says. “Nor is moving to another world with necromancers. They’re all friendly with Necronia and would locate me for a big shot like Keyser.” She stops pacing and looks at me pleadingly. “I was hoping you could put in a good word for me with the authorities on Earth, so I’d be allowed to immigrate.”

Huh, okay. I look at Valerian. “If anyone could make that happen, it would be you.”

He frowns at Rowan. “That’s an enormous ask. Why didn’t you negotiate freedom from Keyser when you had the Parliament by the shorthairs back there?”

She examines the wood at her feet. “It’s not just about the marriage. I got spoiled when I lived on Earth. I could bore you for hours talking about all the freedoms I wish I had, but if I’m honest, I just as much want to move because I love everything about Earth—its human cultures, the internet, music, movies, video games…”

“Not a single necromancer has ever been allowed to do what you’re talking about,” Valerian says. “Vampires are a powerful voice among the Earth Cognizant. And they live such long lives, some of them have grievances with your kind from personal experience.”

She sighs. “I knew it was a long shot.”

I make a mental note to talk to Valerian some more on Rowan’s behalf. I like her, and her request doesn’t seem so unreasonable to me—except for the part where she wants Earth, instead of a more civilized world, like Gomorrah.

Rowan sits back down, and we ride on the nice road for a while without talking. I must zone out for a bit because when I refocus on the path ahead, I see a group of people in the distance.

I jump up from my chair and approach Rowan. “What do you think that’s about?” I ask, nodding at the crowd.

Our zombie bird takes flight and swoops down to take a look at the newcomers—and as it does, Rowan’s forehead creases with a frown.

“It’s Keyser,” she says. “He’s waiting there with a warrior-helper contingent. We could try going around, but it might be wiser to hear what he’s got to say.”

Valerian’s already on his feet, peering intently at the obstacle. “Do you think the Parliament have changed their minds?”

“I doubt it.” Rowan has the zombie bird land by her feet. “This might just be about me—in which case, I’ll go with him willingly, then urge the Parliament to assign you another necromancer guide posthaste.”

I don’t want to give her back to that pet-killing brute, but on the flip side, a delay might cost Stanislav his life.

Judging by my friends’ expressions, they’re having similar thoughts.

We continue toward Keyser and his helpers, and it’s only when we’re right next to them that I realize he isn’t here for Rowan at all.

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