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He didn’t have an answer for that, which told me what I needed to know. Looking down at him, I slowly sank the blade into his chest.
He choked, arms scrabbling and legs kicking to try and push me away. His eyes bulged, mouth opening in a silent scream. I leaned harder on the hilt of my sword, feeling the blade scrape against bone before the tip burrowed into the earth. Caom grew weaker in a rush, his skin turning deathly pale and his copper eyes drifting over my shoulder and widening in terror before they went flat.
A second after he slumped and stopped moving, I felt a little scratch on my back. A new black feather being etched there. Sighing, I drew my blade free with a firm tug and wiped it clean on his shirt before sheathing it. Then I looked around at the still, empty fields, crops planted in neat rows on turned earth.
I shouldn’t leave him here. Some of these farming Folk had children. It wasn’t fair to make children see something like this. And if I left his body to be found, the Folk would immediately suspect that I’d been the one to kill him, which wouldn’t instil much faith in their new king.
Sighing, I looked down at his lifeless body, then used the toe of my boot to roll him onto his front. Crouching, I reached out and touched my fingertips to the back of his neck. I had done this only once, and I still wasn’t quite sure how, but after a few seconds, I felt… something happening. Like threads were shooting out from my fingertips and worming their way under his skin, twisting around nerves, spiralling down his spine and feathering into his skull.
His limbs twitched. I stood and stepped back.
“Again, King?”
The familiar, somewhat exasperated voice made me look up. Ankou stood there with his arms crossed, his cusith panting beside him.
My mouth curved into a tiny smile. “Not for long.”
“Perhaps if you are going to do this often, we can come to some agreement.” He gestured at the gancanagh, who was sucking in ragged breaths as his head lifted from the ground. “Just let me know your intention to bring them back beforehand so I don’t stand around waiting to take them to the afterlife.”
I chuckled. “I don’t plan on killing many people after this.”
Ankou grumbled under his breath, refolding his arms and cocking his head as we watched Caom slowly look up at us in abject terror.
“Can I control him?” I asked curiously.
“Yes. If you want to. He’s like an extension of you now, until you sever the connection you’ve made.”
My lip curled. I wasn’t overly fond of the idea of the gancanagh being connected to me in any way, but needs must.
“Stand up,” I told him.
As if I’d used his true name, he did, rising unsteadily to his feet and swaying. He blinked sluggishly. Through the sliced fabric of his shirt, I could see the stab wound slowly closing over. Healing.
“Come with me.” I started walking back towards the village. Caom stumbled after me.
“Wh-what—” His voice was raspy. “What—”
“There’s just something you need to do first,” I told him flatly. “And then you’ll be gone.”
“Will this take long, King?” Ankou asked as he and his cusith followed us.
“No.”
By the time we made it back to the village, Caom’s colour had returned. His wound had completely healed. He didn’t say a word, but his eyes darted in terror—to me, to Ankou, to the giant death hound loping along beside us.
The dressmaker shop’s door was still hanging open. I walked inside, Caom still forced to follow, and up to his bedroom. Finding some parchment and a fountain pen, I laid them on the dressing table and pointed.
“Write that your shop is closing permanently.”
Breath hitching, the gancanagh stumbled over and picked up the pen in a shaking hand. He scribbled the message, then went still, fingers gripping the pen tightly as he waited for his next order.
“Wipe the blood from your skin and put on a clean shirt,” I told him, picking up the piece of parchment. “Then get on the bed.”
Ankou was standing in the doorway as he waited, arms crossed and his shoulder leaning on the frame. I could hear his cusith snuffling around in the hall.
Caom’s wide eyes stared up at the ceiling as he lay flat on his back in the bed, chest heaving under his new clean shirt. Without a word, I walked over and slid my fingers between his neck and the pillow, pressing them firmly into his skin. Almost instantly, I could feel those threads retreating, unwinding and pulling back, until he let out a final shuddering breath and his eyes grew flat and lifeless once again.
“For good this time?” Ankou asked mildly from the door.
