Chapter 9 #2
The initial energy that had bombarded her with Viktar’s revival had eddied only for the second enchantment to cause a resurgence.
It still pulsed a faint, steady current in her core.
She didn’t know what changed within her aside from her own soul’s recovery.
And some lingering words from a cigar-smoking crone.
“You’re free to be a great necromancer now, rather than settling for a mediocre one.”
Except this didn’t feel great. It couldn’t be great to find herself returning to consciousness on the floor after performing an enchantment she’d done a hundred times before. The crone had been wrong.
She’d dug too deep.
She’d broken something.
But would any preserved book tell how it might be fixed?
Lux knew her brilliance was rare. Her parents, Riselda, the mayor, even this collector—they all told her so. But rare did not mean singular. Rare did not mean she was alone. Suddenly, this meeting felt fated rather than only lucky. An unfamiliar but blessed shift.
“You’re quiet. Have I made you uncomfortable?”
Lux glanced up from her stew. She hesitated. Aside from the mountain trader, she’d told no one of where she’d come from. She’d wanted neither the questions nor the judgement. But she did want the reactions.
His, in particular.
“You’ve missed Ghadra,” she said.
“Ghadra.”
Her eyes tracked his carefully. She said nothing else.
Corvin grasped his chin. He huffed a laugh. Lux could pick out nothing but shock in his expression. “You cannot be from there.”
She lifted the spoon to her lips.
“Blessed Saints.” His forearms retracted as he sat straight. “This explains the lack of library. I’ve never met a soul out of that city.”
Either he was very accustomed to acting, she was very poor at reading, or these collectors were not whom she sought. Not a drop of nerves seemed to alter him at her admission.
Lux wished she could claim the same. “I’m not surprised,” she said.
And she wasn’t. Ghadra was a secluded place, nearly never welcoming visitors. Those few who came never left. But perhaps now that its mad mayor was dead and a new order to be set, it could be different.
She hoped it would be different.
“I’ll admit I tried to go there once.”
“You did? Why?”
Corvin laughed outright. “Following a lead on a rare manuscript. But I couldn’t manage the road. The marshes were impossible.”
Lux swallowed at the idea of this man combing their city in search of his treasure. Of his gloved hands pawing through Riselda’s dusty alcove filled with books and loose pages. “They were impossible.”
She reached for a roll, but he took the bread from beneath her hand. Lathering it with butter, he held it out to her. “Were?”
Lux bit at her cheek but accepted his offering; butter oozed onto her fingers.
“Ghadra’s under a new mayor.” It must be by now. “I know one of the first changes was marking the marsh road.”
Corvin wiped crumbs from his glove. “That’s news I haven’t heard yet.”
She could tell he was interested, but she was in no headspace to elaborate on what happened behind that city’s walls. She moved from the subject entirely.
“Do you live at Mothlock, then?”
“I do, along with the rest of my society. It’s near here actually.”
Her curiosity piqued. “How far?”
“Once you’re out of Ravenwood, it’s a half day’s ride south. Why?” he asked, a tilt to his head. “Thinking of joining our cause?”
Lux’s brow furrowed before she finally acknowledged the butter spilt over her hand and bit into the bread. “I didn’t think—”
Her attention snagged on the staircase. Or rather the person descending it. With that dismal stare, he looked entirely too familiar.
The man bearing the body from Loxlen.
He wore the same black coat, but the hat was gone. His balding head glistened in the lamplight like he’d polished it. He descended the final stair, and when their gazes locked, Lux felt immediately trapped.
There weren’t many people who’d ever made her feel that way. Those who had were dead. Her hand flew to the knife tucked at her waist when he made for them.
Corvin looked to see what had distracted her. Lux’s gaze flicked to the younger man’s profile in time to notice his jaw set. Did he not like this man either? Or did he condemn only the interruption?
The stranger reached their table, and though he’d stared at Lux the entire way over, he didn’t look at her anymore.
He glared at Corvin. “I need to speak to you.” His voice was cast low, but if he thought to keep his words from reaching her, he should have gone lower.
She’d a lot of practice in eavesdropping.
“I’m in the middle of dinner.”
“It’s poison.”
“The dinner?”
“The body! It must be the same as the last.”
Lux pretended not to pay attention as she absorbed every word. She scanned the room.
Wide stares connected with her own. Still bodies.
Quick breaths. They gnawed at her, and her anger sparked.
Once, she would have offered a sharp, grim smile—a dare to come closer.
She nearly did so now, only…a gaunt man sat at the table nearest her.
His nostrils flared and his fingers shook ever so slightly around his cup.
It reminded her of someone. Of another man, brutalized and bloody, left broken outside a ruined trinket shop.
This was more than wariness.
What here has them so terrified?
Lux frowned as she glanced away, startling when she met two sets of eyes.
She raised an eyebrow. “Yes?”
Corvin inclined his head. “I know we’ve only just met, and you don’t know much of anything about me, but this seems too blessed a meeting not to ask. Would you be interested in performing a revival? We’re more than willing to pay.”
“Oh.” Lux stared at the man looming over Corvin’s shoulder. At his once-rude expression now smoothed to blankness. His eyes were the strangest thing of all; she’d never seen such mixture of dark and light. “I cannot.”
The older man scoffed. “Why not?”
Lux pulled her tongue from between her teeth. “Because this town won’t sell me marsh snapper eyes.”
“I have marsh snapper eyes.”
“Why would you have marsh snapper eyes?”
“He eats them,” said Corvin, smoothing his eyebrows.
Lux had heard of only one other person who’d make a snack of eyes; that person also created jewelry from raccoons and dipped apples in poison. What other depravities was this man up to? “My price is five goldquins.”
Corvin’s eyes widened. “That’s all?”
“That’s—” Lux floundered as an idea formed. “Wait. I’m sorry, I misspoke. Twenty goldquins. Unless, of course, you’re wanting to bring back someone better off dead. I’ve decided I won’t be reviving anymore villains.”
“A lot of experience with that, have you?” questioned the older man.
“She’s from Ghadra,” murmured Corvin.
His jaw went slack. “Blessed Saints.”
Before Lux’s scowl could deepen much further, Corvin said, “Mistress Lefroy isn’t a villain as far as I’m aware. She’s an investor in Mothlock’s mission, and while we’d thought it was only an accident or poor health, it seems it’s something worse.”
“Much worse,” added the balding man.
“How long has it been since she died?”
The men shared a glance. “Coming up on twelve hours.”
Lux groaned even as she’d guessed it to be close. She dropped her head and pinched the bridge of her nose, her eyes shut tight to drive the memories back. “Where is she? If she’s been dead past twelve hours by even the smallest measure, this will end very badly.”
“Let’s be quick about it then.” Corvin stood, their dinner forgotten. “She’s upstairs and one room down from mine. And don’t worry, Ms. Thorn. We can handle bad endings.”
Lux pursed her lips, but she stood too. To the unnamed man, she said, “See that she’s unwrapped and laid upon the bed.” To Corvin, she added, “Wait for me outside my room. I need to gather my supplies, and I don’t plan on knocking on a slew of doors trying to find you.”
She didn’t care that the older man glared at her abrupt directions. But she did care that Corvin looked at her the way he did.
His eyes hooded, he said, “Demand whatever you want of me,” and gestured her on ahead.