Page 13 of The Necromancer's Prisoner

“Can you blame me for being curious?” Alistair retorted. “I was planning to confront you about my missing gear until I heard you talking.” He raised an eyebrow. “Besides, isn’t that whyyou’redown here—to scout out the enemy?”

“I don’t know why I came down here anymore.” Iggie stalked past the paladin toward the stairs leading to the great hall, struggling to keep a firm grip on his embarrassment.Shadow and shade, just how much of my recent monologue did he hear?“Not that I owe you any explanation for my actions. This is my tower, not yours. I don’t need a reason to move about it.”

“My parents are both dead, too.”

The lingering sadness in Alistair’s voice froze Iggie in place. His heartbeat thrummed in his throat, begging him to keep moving—to get away from the Dark-cursed paladin so he could rein in his jumbled thoughts. But Alistair didn’t give him the chance.

“I never knew my mother. She died giving birth to me. I’m told she was beautiful though—always smiling and laughing. My father was never the same after that, or so I heard. They said it was like the joy in him died along with her.”

Iggie slowly turned to face Alistair. They locked eyes, and for once, those amber orbs felt wholly mortal, the emotion within them as raw as the tension stifling Iggie’s own chest.

“He wasn’t a bad man,” Alistair continued. “Nor a bad father, really. But all he cared about was duty—carrying on and preserving the family legacy. There was no time for relaxation or fun. If it didn’t serve a concrete purpose, then it wasn’t worth doing.” He chuckled mirthlessly. “Didn’t exactly make for a stellar childhood.”

Iggie snorted, a blush rising in his neck when Alistair gave him a questioning look. “Let’s just say I know what it’s like to have a rough childhood,” he explained.

Alistair nodded, biting his lip as he considered Iggie. This examination felt different from the ones the paladin had subjected him to thus far—more thoughtful than judging. Iggie’s pulse quickened under the scrutiny. He felt like he should speak, divulge more about his own past, but the words stuck in his throat. He’d never spoken of that night, not even to Marlon and Cynthia.

After a pregnant pause, Alistair glanced to the fire, breaking the spell between them. “My father was a Knight himself, you see,” he said, watching the dancing flames. “The Order had always been important to him, but after my mother’s passing, it was the only thing that still mattered to him. And thus, it became the only thing that mattered to me as well.”

“So, you followed in your father’s holy footsteps?” Iggie winced as soon as the words left his mouth, realizing how callous they sounded.

Alistair, however, only smiled uncertainly. “I did. When he passed a few years ago, I devoted myself to the Order—the youngest to ever be accepted, and the fastest recruit to ever rise to the rank of full Knight. What better way to honor my father’s legacy?”

Though the words rang sincere, Iggie frowned at the slight hitch he caught in the paladin’s voice. Perhaps there was more to Alistair than first appeared.

“Well,” Iggie said to break the awkward silence. He fiddled with the hem of his cloak. “I should go check on the, uh…on things. Unless there’s anything else you need?”

Alistair shook his head, and Iggie turned to go, pausing when the paladin added, “Thank you, Ignatius.”

Ignatius.It was the first time Alistair had used his name, and the sound of it sent a pleased ripple through him. He glanced back, steeling his expression. “For what?”

“For saving my life. Twice.”

Ignoring the warmth flooding his skin, Iggie snorted. “Let’s try not to make it a third, shall we?” He paused, one foot on the stairs. “And please—call me Iggie.”

eight

Alistair

TheinstantIgnatius—Iggie—vanished down the stairs, Alistair buried his face in his hands and let out a muffled groan. Merciful Light, what madness had come over him? Less than an hour ago, he’d been bemoaning his imprisonment in this wretched tower and contemplating how best to confront the necromancer for his stolen gear. Instead, he’d ended up telling him about his family. He’d told Ignatius things he hadn’t even confided in his fellow Knights!

Equally disconcerting, Ignatius had seemed genuinely interested in what he had to say. The way his icy eyes had thawed, his expression clouding with sympathy, gave Alistair a pretty good idea that his reluctant roommate had faced past traumas of his own, even if he’d been unwilling to share. What Alistair had heard there at the end while standing outside the necromancer’s door only increased his certainty.

I’m sorry you were cursed with me.

Pity had driven him to confide in Ignatius—nothing more. His instinct as a paladin was to ease suffering wherever he could, and that included necromancers who may or may not deserve the kindness.

Right. It certainly hadnothingto do with that other stuff you heard. What was it again—something about being ‘aesthetically pleasing’…?

A blush rose in his cheeks. “Iggie,” he muttered, determined to think about something,anythingelse. “What kind of name is that for a necromancer anyway?”

Not that this particular master of the undead was anything like his Order training had led him to believe. Perhaps not all who wielded duskflame were as wicked as the stories claimed.

A vision of his father writhing on his death bed while black bands of cursed flesh crawled across his skin like living scars stuttered Alistair’s breath. Of course, many duskflame casters werepreciselyas evil as Church doctrine dictated. No matter how innocent Iggie appeared, Alistair had to remember that they came from different worlds, their magics diametrically opposed. They couldneverbe friends, let alone anything more.

Even if, at his core, he’s a lost soul just like me.

A noise drew Alistair’s gaze back to the stairs leading to the great hall. His eyebrows rose when he realized it was whistling echoing up from below. He thought he recognized the tune as a common ballad one might find in taverns across Khordan. Iggie’s rendition was surprisingly melodious, each sharp note ringing clear. A faint smile played over Alistair’s mouth.