Page 25 of The Necromancer's Prisoner

“I’ve heard of song crystals before,” Iggie said, marveling at the way the crystals echoed his words back to him in visual form. “And I knew Singer’s Rest exported them. But I’ve never seen one in person. Only the wealthy could afford them.” Something like chagrin flashed over Alistair’s face, and Iggie smirked. “Let me guess—your family estate has one in every room.”

“House Halion owned its fair share,” Alistair said evasively. He cleared his throat. “But those finished song crystals no longer react to sound, their patterns rendered immutable. It’s something else entirely to be surrounded by them in their raw form. As if your very words are alive.”

Iggie wholeheartedly agreed. In his experience, magic was something dark and terrible—a secret to be jealously guarded or a weapon to be used to hurt others. Yet, here in these crystals, he saw magic in its purest form—as an expression of sheer wonder.

Staring at the harmonite, another thought occurred to him. “If the people of Singer’s Rest harvest these crystals, does that mean we’re close to town?”

Alistair knit his brow as he considered. “I’m not certain. These caverns might link up with those used by the artisans in town, but depending on how large the cave complex is, we could waste days wandering these corridors before we stumbled on the right connection. Our safest bet is still to wait out the storm.”

“So much for that idea,” Iggie sighed. “I’d hoped we could make use of your discovery.”

Alistair’s furrowed brow relaxed as his lips twisted into a grin. “Perhaps we still can.”

Iggie watched curiously as Alistair leaned in above one of the crystals, pressed his lips together, and…blew out the loudest, wettest raspberry Iggie had ever heard. For a moment, Iggie could only stare in utter shock as the crystals immediately formed a new rhythm, alternating quickly between shades of orange and lavender.

Then, raucous laughter burst from Iggie’s chest. He doubled over, wheezing with mirth. His wild cackling rolled over the crystals, shifting their patterns yet again.

Alistair fixed him with a mischievous grin. “What? I was curious to see what would happen.” His voice adopted a teasing tone. “Or is the dark and brooding necromancer beyond having a harmless bit of fun?”

Iggie narrowed his eyes, fighting down his own answering grin. “As if I could turn down such a blatant challenge from an arrogant paladin!”

They spent the next half hour taking turns manifesting all manner of ridiculous noises. It soon became evident how artisans could spend years honing their craft. Getting the harmonite to react to sounds was easy; however, if there was a clear rhyme or reason tohowthe crystals selected their resulting patterns, Iggie couldn’t figure it out.

Each crystal’s response to a sound varied dramatically, and even the same crystal might react entirely differently to near-identical noises. Capturing a desired aesthetic effect must be like painting a masterpiece or composing an orchestra, except even the slightest accidental noise might ruin the entire tapestry you were trying to weave.

Eventually, Iggie found himself at the far end of the cavern from where they’d entered, standing before a particular song crystal. Unlike the others that grew clustered together, this one sprouted alone from the wall. Something about it felt duller and more restrained than the others—its colors not quite as bright, its shifting patterns less frenetic. Perhaps the magic that formed it had been weaker or fundamentally flawed in some way.

I can relate.

While Alistair continued playing with random sounds, Iggie began to softly hum to the lonely crystal. He watched the play of light over its glassy facets with enraptured eyes. When he realized he was humming an old children’s song his mother used to sing for him when he had trouble falling asleep, he faltered, barely managing to maintain the melody. Wetness blurred his vision. He hadn’t thought of the tune in years, but squeezing his eyes shut, he could picture his mom’s smiling face leaning over him in his tiny straw cot.

The words came unbidden to his mind, and without stopping to think about what he was doing, he repeated them along with the melody. His voice was soft and uncertain at first, but it grew steadier as he went. When the last note hung in the air, he opened his eyes and stared at the solitary harmonite in wonder. The crystal positivelyshone, its rippling pattern the most exquisite thing he’d ever seen.

Unable to hold back his tears any longer, he bit back a sob while they flowed freely down his cheeks. Sorrow carved his insides to shreds.I’m so sorry, Mom. I’m so, so sorry.

A finger lightly brushed the tears from his cheek. Sniffling, Iggie looked up and found Alistair kneeling beside him, his brown hair framing his concerned face. His amber eyes threatened to draw Iggie in and seal him forever in their depths.

“What was that?” Alistair asked softly.

Iggie cleared his throat. When he spoke, his voice came out rough. “Just some song my mother used to sing to me.”

He feared the paladin might mock him or demand more than he was prepared to say, but Alistair only nodded. “It was beautiful.”

A charged silence descended. Alistair let his hand drop from Iggie’s face, but he didn’t move away. Iggie’s gaze wandered from Alistair’s warm golden eyes down to his plush lips.

Shadow and shade, what are you thinking?

This man was a Knight of the Order—the embodiment of everything Iggie loathed and had spent his whole life running from. Yet, in that moment, all he wanted was to lean in and kiss him. And, if he wasn’t mistaken, Alistair yearned for the same. Heat smoldered in the paladin’s gaze while his tensed muscles trembled. His lips parted slightly on an exhale as if to whisper Iggie’s name.

Then, in the blink of an eye Alistair had scrambled back, rising and putting a few paces between them. He cleared his throat and turned toward the exit. “Come on. Let’s return to the fire before that chill settles into your bones again.”

Relief warred with disappointment as Iggie nodded and rejoined Alistair. “Lead the way.”

twelve

Alistair

Neitherofthemspokeas Alistair backtracked through the curving tunnels. A tangled web of emotions sat heavily in his gut, too enmeshed to have any hope of sorting out.