Page 12 of The Necromancer's Prisoner

His eyes flicked over to Marlon and Cynthia’s stoic visages before flicking away. His nimble fingers drummed an anxious beat on the chair’s arm.

“I know what you’re going to say: ‘Ignatius, this is all your fault!’ And, well, I suppose you’re right. But what was I supposed to do? If I’d left him out there to die, then I’d be no better than the Order Knights who hunt me, or those who—”

A lump lodged in his throat while bile seared his gut. Crackling flames filled his vision, and ghostly screams choked the air. Quickly, he changed the subject.

“Now, here I am, trapped with a Dark-cursednoblethanks to my misplaced mercy. Not that he appreciates any of it. I’ve given him every comfort I can even when I have precious little to spare, and last I checked, he wasstillrefusing to even eat!”

He shifted self-consciously in his seat. “And yeah, okay, maybe I stole that food. And I might have locked him in a cell for a bit. But that was as much for his good as it was for mine!” A derisive snort escaped his lips. “Besides, it’s not like the people of Singer’s Rest are wanting—they have to be the richest little village in Khordan thanks to those crystals they export.”

Duskflame roiled in the hollow sockets of Marlon and Cynthia’s eyes as they watched him. Iggie paused, studying their bleached skulls now yellowed with age. They’d been with him since the beginning—the first humans he’d ever raised. Someday, the magic sustaining them would fade and they’d crumble to dust, but he prayed that day remained a long way off. They were his one constant—his one comfort. If he lost them and had to face being truly alone again…

The fire and screams swam back into his awareness as the room around him faded, depositing him into that dark night when he’d lost everything. He remembered the jeering faces…the rough hands hauling him from his bed…the scent of charred flesh…

Shuddering, he turned away from his undead. While he waited for the memories to recede and his racing heartbeat to settle, he scrambled to focus on anything else.

“At least, he’s easy on the eyes.”

A different kind of horror flooded him when he realized what he’d said, and he groaned.

“Not that…I mean, it doesn’t matter. Obviously. I’m simply noting that, um, things can always be worse. At least this way, there’s something aesthetically pleasing…to look…at…”

Iggie trailed off, grateful Alistair wasn’t here to witness the furious blush coloring his cheeks. He’d clearly spent far too long on his own if he was daydreaming about a stuck-up paladin. Even if Alistair didn’t try to kill him before this was all over, he was a Knight,anda nobleman to boot. Iggie knew better than to let himself become another victim.

“Besides, he could be the sexiest, kindest guy in Allaria, and it wouldn’t make a difference. I could never trust a member of the Order, and he’d never see me as anything more than a villain.” Bitterness turned his voice brittle. “As if he could ever know me or understand what my life is like. He accuses me of harming others whenhe’sthe one hunting me! All I want is to be left alone. Why can’t everyone justleave me alone?”

Abruptly, he rose and moved to stand near a narrow window set into the chamber’s far wall. Though he’d boarded over it when he first arrived at the tower, some cold air still leaked through. After his visions of flames and ash, he found the draft comforting.

His anger drained out of him all at once, and he sagged, splaying his palms against the wall while hanging his head. “Mother…Father…I wish you were still here with me.” His voice was soft, barely more than a whisper. “I wish you’d been born with a better son—one more worthy of your love who could have made you proud. I’m sorry you were cursed withme.”

Wood creaked, and Iggie froze before spinning toward the door and narrowing his eyes. Stalking over, he threw the door open and found…nothing. The stone staircase stood empty, and the paladin sat in a chair below reading one of the books Iggie had left lying about. He didn’t even glance up, though he couldn’t have missed the door opening.

It must have been the wind, billowing through the drafty tower.

Iggie grunted and began to pull the door shut before hesitating. He considered the paladin once more. Everything he’d confided to Marlon and Cynthia was true—whatever latent attraction he felt for the man was purely physical and could never amount to anything. But neither could he remain cooped up in his room for however many days it took the storm to pass—not without losing what remained of his sanity.

Projecting a boldness he didn’t feel, he strode down the stairs. Marlon and Cynthia shadowed his back. Alistair finally looked up, his eyes widening slightly when he saw Iggie. For a moment, he looked ready to bolt for the staircase descending to the hall. Then, he set his book aside and settled into the chair, his face impassive as he watched Iggie’s approach.

Desperate to ignore the flutter in his gut at Alistair’s golden-eyed appraisal, Iggie focused on the paladin’s untouched dinner platter. “You really should eat something. If you think going on a hunger strike proves anything beyond your own stubbornness, then you’re sorely mistaken.”

“Thanks, but I’m good.” Right on cue, Alistair’s stomach rumbled. At least, he had the decency to look abashed.

Iggie rolled his eyes. “You act like you think I’m trying to poison you.” When Alistair didn’t respond, shock rippled through him. “Shadow and shade, you actually believe I would do that?”

“The thought crossed my mind,” Alistair muttered. “But—”

Iggie strode across the room, grabbed a hunk of meat from Alistair’s platter, and bit savagely into it. He glared at Alistair as he chewed.

The paladin huffed and crossed his arms. “Fine. I know you’re not trying to poison me.”

Swallowing the too-big bite of meat with a grimace, Iggie asked, “Then, what is it?”

Alistair hesitated. Instead of answering Iggie’s question, he said quietly, “What happened to your parents? Does it have something to do with why you’re hiding out here?”

Iggie’s mouth fell open. He stared at the paladin for a lengthy beat, too surprised to respond. Then, he put two and two together. “Thatwasyou at my door, wasn’t it?”

Alastair’s guilty expression was all the confirmation he needed.

“How dare you! I save your life, give you a place in my home, and youspyon me?”