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Duchess is the first creature he’s met in ten years who hasn’t flinched at the sight of him. She doesn’t know he’s a necromancer, and she doesn’t care.
He’s a weird, prickly bastard, but he likes Arthur’s horse, and that counts for more than it should.
Arthur’s not an idiot either, and he recognizes the possessiveness surging up in him. He hates the idea of Shae cuddling up to past unknown swords for hire. But he hates the idea of Shae being shoved aside even more.
Shae hasn’t been punching walls for the past ten years. He’s been too busy punching holes in himself.
“What kind of idiot would kiss a necromancer?” “In my defense,” Arthur says, “you’re a very attractive necromancer.”
The start of something. After ten years of endings, Shae likes the sound of that.
“It’s warm,” Shae says quietly. “But it’s more than that. If you could taste sunlight, it would taste like you. I haven’t felt the heat of summer in so long, I’ve forgotten what it felt like. I’ve spent so long just trying to be less cold. Actually being warm was a pathetic fantasy.” “Shae,” Arthur starts, heart pounding, but thin fingers cover his lips. “When I’m near you,” Shae whispers, “I feel alive.”
Arthur doesn’t need an organization that’s more concerned with looking good than doing good. He doesn’t need an organization that wants to force him to choose between faith and love, when he knows his god wants him to have both. His contract with Vara doesn’t depend on the order after all, and it’s stronger than ever now that he’s making his own choices.
