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I bent over him, my tears falling onto his face, and kissed him. His lips were cold against mine, but his skin still shivered with the icy fire of necromancy. Gasping, I jerked back and felt his neck for a pulse.
Wendel had no heartbeat.
But if he was dead, then why did his necromancy burn under my fingertips? Why was it growing stronger with my heartbeat? I shuddered at the intensity of magic. My fingers curled involuntarily around his neck.
A heartbeat thumped against my fingertips.
Wendel coughed, seawater spilling from his mouth. It jolted me into action. I grabbed his shoulder and rolled him onto his side. He coughed and coughed, his hands splayed on the rocks, until he sucked in a rattling breath. Then he coughed some more, even though his lungs had to be empty.
“Wendel?” I whispered.
I was afraid to touch him again. What had he become?
He turned his head. His face still looked as pale as death, but his green eyes glittered. “Ardis,” he rasped. “I’m back.”
“Are you—alive?”
He squinted. “Apparently.”
He crawled to his hands and knees. He tried to stand, but he staggered and nearly fell. I caught his arm.
He certainlyfeltalive. Cold and wet, but alive.
“We need to run,” he said, “before the Grandmaster realizes I’m not dead.”
I glanced at the Serpent’s Tower. “Oh, God. You’re right.”
Wendel’s teeth had started chattering. He leaned heavily on me as we walked, his legs stiff, his arms shaking.
“How are you alive?” I asked.
“Necromancy.”
My skin crawled. “Are you undead?”
“No.”
I spotted the skiff where we had left it, hidden under the branches of a pine tree. I hurried to uncover the boat. The shadow of the Serpent’s Tower still reached this far, and it was making me sick with fear.
“Almost free,” I said, to convince myself more than anyone.
I dragged the skiff to the water and helped Wendel into the boat. I shoved off and climbed in after him. As I rowed from the island, a giddying tide of hope washed over me. I rowed farther and farther from the Serpent’s Tower, until my arms burned, then let the skiff drift in the waters of the Bosporus.
“Ardis,” Wendel said. “Thank you for saving me. Again.”
I smiled, my eyes blurring. “Let’s not make it a habit.”
He returned my smile, then reached across the boat and clasped my hands. His skin didn’t feel quite so icy, but he was shivering.
His gaze locked onto the Serpent’s Tower. “He won.”
My fingers tightened around his. “He hasn’t defeated us. Not yet. The Grandmaster tops my list of people who need murdering.”
“We can’t go back.” He searched my eyes. “It’s too dangerous.”
“The Grandmaster beat us this time, but he won’t win twice.”
His thumbs stroked my knuckles. “There’s always Switzerland. Somewhere as far away from assassins and archmages as possible.”
