Chapter 23
Chapter
Twenty-Three
Wraith walked the monastery for hours, not wanting to return to the Draconian quarters. Umbra plodded along beside him, often rubbing against him. He helped another ghost move on.
But finally, he returned to the Draconian quarters, dismissing Umbra before he arrived. He did not wish to tempt Konrad’s anger any more.
The guards at the door stared at him. For a second, he thought they might deny him entry. Finally they opened the door.
Wraith entered but had no idea where to go. He stopped in the middle of the corridor. His belongings were in Konrad’s bedroom. But that was not his room. He had no room. Perhaps he could find a sitting room or something where he could hide and be out of the way and not make anyone angry.
A young servant woman approached him and bowed. “Can I help you with anything, Your Majesty?”
Did Wraith need anything? He needed a place where he could go and was welcome. But he didn’t think the servant could help him with that.
“No. Thank you,” Wraith said and walked away.
After some searching, he found a small library. The smell of old books filled the air. Sunlight streamed in through the windows, catching on specks of floating dust. There were several chairs, some even long enough that he could lie out on. Perhaps he could sleep here tonight and not bother Konrad.
Yes. This could be a suitable place to hide.
“Hello, King Consort Wraith.”
Wraith startled and turned towards the voice. Prince Elias Storm reclined on a chair in the corner of the room. An open book rested on his lap. Shadows surrounded him. Wraith had not seen him tucked away like that.
Perhaps he is hiding too.
“I’m, ah … sorry for disturbing you.” Wraith raced from the room, hoping he’d not annoyed or angered the prince too much.
In the end, he found a balcony that overlooked a small garden with a large pond. Water lilies floated on top. A dead monk pruned rosebushes that lined a brick wall.
It did not seem to bother the monk that her actions had no effect on the bushes. Another dead monk chanted in that ancient language the monks knew and that no one else did. They’d used that chant during his wedding, but he did not remember the name of it.
In the sky, a green dragon flew around the East Tower. Was that Konrad? Perhaps it was one of his siblings or another dragon altogether. Wraith did not know how to tell them apart. He just knew that Konrad, like his siblings, was green.
The dragon flew away, growing smaller and smaller. Wraith returned his gaze to the chanting monk.
“I have to confess, I have always been very curious about necromancy.”
The hairs on Wraith’s neck stood on end. He looked behind him.
Prince Elias stood two paces back. Wraith had not heard him open the door to the balcony and approach.
“So I was wondering if you could tell me what it is like being a necromancer?” Prince Elias asked, violet eyes bright.
Wraith tried to remember what he knew of the prince. Or was he still a prince? He’d been a prince of Voltaria, but now he was married to Gerard. Did that mean he was still a prince? Or did he have a new title now?
Although, Gerard was also a prince. So what did that mean for Elias’s title? Wraith had no idea.
He remembered that Prince Elias and Gerard had been recently attacked. They had survived, partly because Prince Elias was a lightning archmage, which no one had known until then.
Now Prince Elias smiled at him. He didn’t seem put out at Wraith’s presence. He had also followed Wraith out onto the balcony, suggesting he did not mind being near Wraith. And he was clearly waiting for Wraith to respond.
“I do not know,” Wraith said.
Prince Elias raised an elegant brow. “You do not know what it is like to be a necromancer?”
“I was born one and know no other way of being, Prince Elias.”
The prince laughed. “Fair enough. And none of that prince nonsense. No need for formalities between us.” He paused, tapping a finger to his lower lip. “So you do not know what it is like to be a necromancer,” he mused as he came up beside Wraith. “Well, do you see the dead?”
Wraith had to stop himself from turning to look at the monks, one of whom he could still hear chanting. He hesitated. He did not want to lie, but if he told the truth, would Elias explode in anger like Konrad had?
Suddenly, both Elias’s brows rose, his eyes widened, and he took a step closer to Wraith. “You do see the dead! Do you see them now?”
Wraith had no idea how he’d given himself away. But that was not anger. Or revulsion. In fact, all he saw in Elias’s eyes was an intense interest. He sounded excited too.
Wraith gestured behind himself. “There are a couple of dead monks in the garden.”
“Really?” Elias leaned over the balustrade, looking down as if he could see them. “What are they doing?”
“One is raking leaves. She was pruning the rosebushes before. The other monk is chanting and has been since I arrived. He’s using that ancient monk language.”
“Lorentath.”
“What?”
“That’s the name of the language the monks use,” Elias said. “Why are they chanting and raking leaves?”
“It is probably what they did in life. Ghosts sometimes continue their habits and chores. It’s like the patterns they forged in life continue after death.”
“Fascinating.” Elias turned towards him, his entire focus swinging to Wraith.
Wraith almost took a step back at the intensity of that curious gaze.
“Have you ever seen anyone around me before? Someone I might know?” Then he grimaced. “If my stepmother is here, tell her to fuck off and that I’m glad she is dead. And if she comes back, I’ll kill her again.” Then he laughed. “But seriously, have you seen anyone around me?”
Wraith fidgeted.
Elias froze. “Wraith, you have seen someone near me, haven’t you? Who?”
Wraith licked his lips. He glanced at Elias and looked away. “I think it might have been your mother. She looked very much like you.”
“My mother? You saw my mother?”
Wraith nodded.
Elias gripped the balustrade. “What … what was she doing?”
Maybe Wraith should have kept his mouth closed or just fled. He did not wish to risk upsetting Elias. “She was talking to you. Some of her words were garbled. It happens sometimes when they passed a while ago. But she was angry.”
“At me?” Elias asked, voice suddenly sounding very small.
Wraith shook his head. “At your father. For not protecting you. For not looking after you. She said something about danger coming for you and your father was failing you by not seeing it.”
“Is she here now?” Elias looked around.
“No. I think she moved on after you were attacked and survived.”
Elias laughed, not the light tinkling noise of previously, but a raw, harsh sound. “I suppose my stepmother was the biggest danger to me. And now she’s dead, and so my mother moved on. Is that how it works?”
“Sometimes.”
Elias exhaled.
Perhaps Wraith should say something. Give comfort of some kind. But Wraith did not know what comforting words sounded like. After all, he’d never really received any. The only comfort he knew how to give would be to help someone pass on to the other side. But that would be unhelpful here.
Perhaps he should summon Umbra. She was good at comforting people. Or at least she was good at comforting him. And the dead. But Elias might not like his hellhound.
Wraith stared at his hand. He flexed his fingers. People touched each other to offer comfort. A hand on a shoulder. Even a hug sometimes. But for someone so unused to human touch, the idea of just reaching out and touching someone terrified Wraith.
Then Elias took a deep breath and smiled, the darkness that had swooped over him disappearing in an instant. “You said you were born a necromancer. So the skill is inherited?”
Wraith blinked. Had he said that?
“Are necromancers born with different types of gifts, strengths, or skills, or—what do you call them?” Elias asked.
“Yes. We are born with our specific skill sets. But we can train to strengthen abilities or even learn new ones.” Wraith hesitated. “But … I do not know if I should say more.” His people tended to be rather close-lipped regarding necromancy.
“Don’t share any secrets you’d feel bad about sharing,” Elias said. “But if you do feel comfortable sharing, I’m very eager to listen. And it’s not like we were ever enemies. Voltaria and Necros were allies. And now we are family, and I plan for us to be friends!”
Wraith’s lungs convulsed. A friend.
He’d had family before. They’d never wanted him.
But a friend … he’d never had one of those. Not a human friend anyway. With the shadow king’s dislike of Wraith so widely known, no one would dare befriend him. But Wraith doubted that Elias cared what the shadow king thought.
What would it be like to have a friend? Someone who chose to be around you. Who wanted to be around you. Someone to talk with.
“We’ll have time to get to know each other, now that we are both living in these same quarters,” Elias said.
“Yes. That’s right. My belongings were sent here this morning.” Wraith frowned.
Elias tilted his head. His long white hair slid across his shoulders. “Did you not know that your belongings would be sent here?”
“I—” Wraith wondered if he should lie and deny it. But instead he just said, “No. No, I did not know.”
Elias touched his arm. Wraith glanced at his hand.
“Well, you’ll find that these quarters are more than adequate. We have spacious rooms, books, and servants, who will bring us food and wine and whatever our little hearts desire. There are guards everywhere keeping us safe. And you’ll have me for company. And I am excellent company.”
Wraith’s lips tugged into a smile.
Elias smiled back. Then he tucked his arm through Wraith’s and led him back inside.
“I’m happy to discuss a wide range of topics.
But I do have to confess, I am extremely interested in Necros and necromancy.
So anything you want to share about that, anything at all, then I’m all ears. But no pressure.”
“Well, I’m sure I can share a few things,” Wraith said. Not everything had to be kept a secret, and like Elias said, Voltaria and Necros hadn’t been at war.
And Wraith really wanted Elias to be his friend and to like him.