Page 33 of The Necromancer's Prisoner

As if you don’t already know.

He sighed, gazing out over the glistening white vista. No matter how compelling he found Iggie or how much he admired his tenacity and heart, there could be no future for them together—not as a paladin and a necromancer.

While Alistair had barely begun to unpack his horror over what those Knights had done to Iggie and knew he’d eventually need to reckon with that atrocity, he refused to believe the Order wasn’t also a profound source of good. His father had saved countless innocent lives in the course of his duties, and though this was Alistair’s first solo assignment, he’d seen the gratitude himself on people’s faces when he’d helped drive off bandits or repair damaged homes.

His duty as a Knight represented his best chance to improve the lives of Khordan’s citizens, like his father had before him. He couldn’t risk that legacy over a single night…no matter how badly he desired a repeat.

When the frigid air began to numb him even through his dawnflame, he reluctantly returned to the cave where he’d left Iggie. He found the necromancer awake and dressed, huddled by the remnants of the dawnflame campfire.

“Sorry,” Alistair said, gathering fresh logs from their supplies to lay atop the ashes. “I forgot to tend to it this morning before I went to check outside.”

“It’s okay.” Iggie managed an uncertain smile despite his shivering. “When I woke up, you were already gone. I’d hoped we could talk.”

Alistair’s stomach flipped. He focused on rekindling the fire with his dawnflame. “What about?” he asked, keeping his eyes averted.

Iggie didn’t reply, and Alistair eventually looked up to find the necromancer fidgeting with the frayed hem of a blanket. He muffled a sigh. He supposed they’d have to have this conversation sooner or later. Best to lay everything out in the open.

“Look, Iggie, about last night—”

“We can’t do it again!”

Alistair blinked. “What?”

Iggie’s words tumbled out like falling snow flurries. “It was great, and I’m glad we did it.” A furious blush colored his pale cheeks. “I mean, I, uh, thoroughly enjoyed our time together. But we come from two different worlds. I think it’s best for both of us if we refrain from any further, um,intimacy.”

Something twinged in Alistair’s chest, but he drowned it out beneath a flood of relief. “Agreed. We should keep our relationship purely platonic from here on out.”

“Platonic,” Iggie said, nodding. “Right.”

An awkward silence fell. Iggie huddled inward under the blanket draped across his shoulders. Alistair was considering making an excuse to escape to the cavern’s entrance when Iggie cleared his throat. “So, what did you find? Outside?” he clarified at Alistair’s confused look.

“Oh. Right.” Alistair’s fingers played with the hilt of his sword. “The storm broke. There’s still a light snowfall, but nothing too bad. It should be safe to return to Singer’s Rest.”

A stricken look passed over Iggie’s face before he managed to hide it beneath a too-wide grin. “Good. That’s, um, good. I guess this is where we part ways, then.”

Alistair frowned. “Where do you intend to go? Blizzard or not, it’ll be months yet before the passes to the lowlands are clear enough to travel.”

Iggie shrugged. “I’ll figure something out.” He swept his arms out to indicate the cavern. “Maybe I’ll hunker down here while I use my undead to search for something more permanent. If there’s one abandoned tower in these mountains, there’s bound to be others, right?”

The thought of Iggie remaining out here all alone tore at Alistair. His undead would do little to protect him should that glowing abomination return. Not to mention the risk of him freezing to death. Alistair’s gaze settled on the nearby crates, a decision firming in his gut.

“And what about food and firewood? Your supplies won’t last forever. What will you do when they run out—keep stealing from Singer’s Rest?” Iggie hesitated, and Alistair shook his head. “There’s only one logical course of action—you’ll return with me to town.”

Iggie’s brilliant blue eyes widened. “Are you insane? They’d execute me in a heartbeat!”

“Not with me there to vouch for you.”

“You think your word alone will be enough to counter centuries of the Church’s prejudice?”

Recalling Brother Kelvin’s near-fanatic devotion to the Light sent unease prickling across Alistair’s skin. “The village elders are reasonable people.”Mostly.“I’m certain we can find a way to resolve the matter—beginning with returning what remains of their stolen supplies.”

“I don’t know…” Though Iggie kept his face composed, Alistair could read his nervousness in his hunched shoulders. “The last time my fate rested in the hands of others, it didn’t end well.”

“Then, don’t leave your fate in their hands—leave it inmine.”

A furrow appeared in Iggie’s brow as he studied Alistair. Alistair wondered what the necromancer saw. Here he stood in his gleaming Order armor, a symbol of protecting those in need…as well as a badge of shame for the terrible sins committed against Iggie’s family.

After a beat, Iggie nodded slowly. “All right. If you say it will work out, I…I trust you.”