Page 45 of Courting the Dragon King

“One is raking leaves. She was pruning the rosebushes before. The other monk is chanting and has been since I arrived. He’s using that ancient monk language.”

“Lorentath.”

“What?”

“That’s the name of the language the monks use,” Elias said. “Why are they chanting and raking leaves?”

“It is probably what they did in life. Ghosts sometimes continue their habits and chores. It’s like the patterns they forged in life continue after death.”

“Fascinating.” Elias turned towards him, his entire focus swinging to Wraith.

Wraith almost took a step back at the intensity of that curious gaze.

“Have you ever seen anyone around me before? Someone I might know?” Then he grimaced. “If my stepmother is here, tell her to fuck off and that I’m glad she is dead. And if she comes back, I’ll kill her again.” Then he laughed. “But seriously, have you seen anyone around me?”

Wraith fidgeted.

Elias froze. “Wraith, you have seen someone near me, haven’t you? Who?”

Wraith licked his lips. He glanced at Elias and looked away. “I think it might have been your mother. She looked very much like you.”

“My mother? You saw my mother?”

Wraith nodded.

Elias gripped the balustrade. “What … what was she doing?”

Maybe Wraith should have kept his mouth closed or just fled. He did not wish to risk upsetting Elias. “She was talking to you. Some of her words were garbled. It happens sometimes when they passed a while ago. But she was angry.”

“At me?” Elias asked, voice suddenly sounding very small.

Wraith shook his head. “At your father. For not protecting you. For not looking after you. She said something about danger coming for you and your father was failing you by not seeing it.”

“Is she here now?” Elias looked around.

“No. I think she moved on after you were attacked and survived.”

Elias laughed, not the light tinkling noise of previously, but a raw, harsh sound. “I suppose my stepmother was the biggest danger to me. And now she’s dead, and so my mother moved on. Is that how it works?”

“Sometimes.”

Elias exhaled.

Perhaps Wraith should say something. Give comfort of some kind. But Wraith did not know what comforting words sounded like. After all, he’d never really received any. The only comfort he knew how to give would be to help someone pass on to the other side. But that would be unhelpful here.

Perhaps he should summon Umbra. She was good at comforting people. Or at least she was good at comforting him. And the dead. But Elias might not like his hellhound.

Wraith stared at his hand. He flexed his fingers. People touched each other to offer comfort. A hand on a shoulder. Even a hug sometimes. But for someone so unused to human touch, the idea of just reaching out and touching someone terrified Wraith.

Then Elias took a deep breath and smiled, the darkness that had swooped over him disappearing in an instant. “You said you were born a necromancer. So the skill is inherited?”

Wraith blinked. Had he said that?

“Are necromancers born with different types of gifts, strengths, or skills, or—what do you call them?” Elias asked.

“Yes. We are born with our specific skill sets. But we can train to strengthen abilities or even learn new ones.” Wraith hesitated. “But … I do not know if I should say more.” His people tended to be rather close-lipped regarding necromancy.

“Don’t share any secrets you’d feel bad about sharing,” Elias said. “But if you do feel comfortable sharing, I’m very eager to listen. And it’s not like we were ever enemies. Voltaria and Necros were allies. And now we are family, and I plan for us to be friends!”