Page 60 of The Necromancer's Prisoner

“No!I won’t let you turn me into one of your abominations! Someone, please, help me!”

Cursing his own lack of tact, Iggie issued a silent command to Marlon and Cynthia to keep their distance and slowly approached the woman, holding up his hands.

“It’s all right, miss. I won’t hurt you. I swear. Here, let me help you.”

But either she didn’t believe him or had been struck dumb with terror because she ignored him, continuing to cry for help. Muffling a sigh, he glanced at her wound and found a shallow gash on her chest. Julian must’ve swiped her with a bony hand. It didn’t look too bad, just a surface-level cut, but he couldn’t tell for sure at this distance, especially when he couldn’t study it for more than a few seconds at a time without the sight of blood making him woozy.

Heavy footsteps pounded the snow, and Iggie turned to find a bulky figure running toward them from deeper in town. They must’ve heard the woman’s cries and come to investigate. Iggie knew who it would be even before Alistair skidded to a halt. His armor glinted in the light of his dawnflame as he held up a glowing hand to survey the scene.

“What happened here? Is anyone hurt?”

Alistair’s arrival seemed to reinvigorate the woman. Her eyes locked on the flickering dawnflame, and she hobbled to her feet, stumbling through the snow to cower behind him. She pointed a trembling finger toward Iggie.

“Heattacked me! Him and his ghouls!”

Alistair didn’t immediately respond. Iggie watched the paladin’s gaze flick from the blood-stained snow, to the undead standing nearby, to Iggie himself. His brow furrowed as if he were struggling to process what he was seeing.

Iggie swallowed, his gut twisting. “It’s not what it looks like.”

Then, he paused, because it sort ofwas. He hadn’t meant any harm to the woman, of course, but it seemed pretty cut-and-dry that one of his undead had. If Iggie hadn’t intervened, Julian might’ve done more to her than leave a single shallow gash.

Alistair must’ve sensed Iggie’s uncertainty, because he quirked an eyebrow. “Tell me what happened.”

He’d directed the question at Iggie, but it was the woman who answered. “I was out walking, minding my own business, when I ran into one ofhisminions. It attacked me and might’ve killed me if I hadn’t managed to fend it off. I lost my footing in the snow and cried out for help.”

She narrowed her gaze on Iggie, stabbing a finger toward him like a blade. “Then,hecame running. At first, I thought he was there to save me, but once I realized who it was, I knew the truth. He’d come to finish the job his minion started so he could turn me into one of his unholy puppets! Thank the Light you arrived when you did, Sir Alistair, or I’d have surely perished.”

Something she’d said niggled at Iggie’s mind. He mentally scoured her words, searching for any discrepancies. When he remembered the unexplained jolt he’d experienced right before the first scream, everything clicked into place.

He turned to the woman, resisting the urge to roll his eyes when she shrank further behind Alistair. “What were you doing out here in the first place? This area was cleared hours ago.”

“I don’t need to explain my comings and goings toyou, fiend!” the woman said in a quavering voice. “I should be able to take a nice stroll without fearing for my life or soul!”

“So, your presence here had nothing to do with glimpsing one of my undead up close?”

The woman’s hesitation offered proof enough to Iggie that his hunch had been correct, even if she’d never admit it. Why else would she be here when she’d been explicitly warned away?

“I don’t owe you an explanation,” she repeated sullenly after a lengthy pause. “My being here doesn’t give you the right to attack me.”

“No, it doesn’t,” Iggie agreed. “But then again, it also doesn’t giveyouthe right to attack one of my minions without provocation.”

A faint blush colored the woman’s cheeks.Got you!Despite her obvious guilt, however, she didn’t relent. “I’d think it trying to gut me provocation enough, wouldn’t you?”

“If it had made the first attack, sure. But it didn’t, did it? You came here looking for undead, and when you actually stumbled upon one, you got scared and lashed out. Naturally, the undead tried to defend itself. Does that sound about right?”

Smug satisfaction radiated through Iggie as the woman sputtered.Thathad been the jolt he’d felt right before the scream distracted him—a psychic warning that one of his undead had been attacked. Julian had acted in self-defense.

“It wasaboutto attack me.” The woman cradled her wound as if the shallow scrape was a life-threatening injury. “I could sense its malevolence, so I tried to shove it back and run.” She faced away from Iggie, focusing her attention on Alistair. “These creatures have no business being around us. It’s not natural. They can’t be trusted.”

The glare she shot Iggie at that last bit made it clear she thoughthecouldn’t be trusted either. Alistair, who’d remained silent throughout the exchange, finally shifted to address the woman. Though his voice remained cordial, Iggie sensed his barely concealed exasperation underneath.

“Return to town, miss, and seek out Brother Kelvin to attend to your injuries. I’ll get things sorted out here.”

Professing her thanks, the woman hurried off, leaving Iggie and Alistair alone. Well, as alone as they could be surrounded by skeletons. Since their time in the tower, Alistair had grown far more comfortable around Iggie’s undead. Now, however, the paladin kept a wary eye on them as if what the woman had said was true. As if theycouldn’tbe trusted.

The silence stretched until Iggie couldn’t stand it any longer. “It wasn’t my fault.”

“I know.”