The Necromancer's Light (Radiance, #1)

by Tavia Lark

“I don’t need help raising the dead and terrorizing the peasantry,” Shae says tiredly, then hesitates. If he asks for too much, will Arthur turn him down? But if he asks for too little, the man won’t believe him. He’s heard tell that Varan paladins can sense truth and lies. In the end, he lowers his voice, so nobody else in the tavern can hear. “I’m going to Lyrisenia, where I want to banish a demon. I can handle the demon, but I need protection on the journey there.” If I can’t handle Izen, I’m dead anyway. Arthur gives him another long glance, then sips from his tankard. “All right. As long as we’re not terrorizing the peasantry.”

The moment Arthur opens the door, the necromancer whips his head around and leaps to his feet. “Where the fuck were you?” Shae snaps. There’s something almost funny about the skinny necromancer trying to menace him, like a kitten with his fur bristling. Arthur sets the tray on the table. “Just grabbing breakfast. You looked like you could use some extra sleep.” The way Shae hisses at him does nothing to dispel the impression of an angry kitten. He stalks up and jabs his finger into Arthur’s chest. “I told you to wake me up. I didn’t hire you to disappear on me.” Arthur takes a deep breath. Kitten or no, he needs to set some boundaries.

He’s too entranced by Duchess’s extremely soft nose, and the way she wiggles her lips under his hand. His heart feels warm in a way that has nothing to do with magic or human presence. He’s just… Happy. 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 sneaks one more glance just in time to see Arthur wading into the running water, and he leaps away from the fire to the opposite side of camp. Visions of wet, golden skin rush through his mind anyway. He rubs his gloved palms over his eyes, trying to chase them away. “No, no, no,” he hisses to himself. “Bad Shae.”

Why the fuck is he being so nice to me? It has to be some sort of paladin thing. Maybe Arthur’s sworn to Vara to always be polite even to disgusting dark mages. Maybe the Radiant Order only accepts helpful human-shaped herding dogs. The man smiles at him. Which probably doesn’t mean anything. Arthur’s the sort of man who smiles at everyone. Shae’s just not used to counting as everyone.

“Are ghost problems something you deal with?” “If the locals pay me.” Shae’s lips twitch in an unhappy grin. “And they always pay me.” If they don’t, he threatens to raise the dead right back up again. That generally works very well. Arthur would probably disapprove, because Arthur’s a nice person. Shae can’t afford to be nice.

The body belonged to a woman, judging by the long-braided hair and the jeweled necklace slipping between her sunken ribs. What’s left of her skin clings dry to her bones. “Hello,” Shae says faintly. His stomach churns. He’s never going to be used to this. “Sorry to bother you, I just need to get you back to… you.” He bites his lip, yanks off his left glove, and presses his palm to the dead woman’s forehead. He calls on his necromancy and whispers in his birth tongue, “Come home, friend. It’s time to rest.”

Shae’s nothing like Ronan. He isn’t sweet. But more and more, Arthur wants to know what bitterness tastes like.

“Human contact is the only thing that helps.” Puzzle pieces click into place. The way Shae followed close to Arthur, even when he was pissed off about something. The way he panicked that morning in the Moon’s Barrel when Arthur left to get breakfast without him. The single lie he told under Arthur’s truth spell: It’s all right if we separate briefly. As long as I know where you are, I’ll be fine. “It’s not just when you use your magic, is it,” Arthur says slowly. “No.” Shae sounds very tired.

“Then why have you been avoiding me all day?” Shae fiddles with one of his rings again. “I thought you could probably use some space, after, well. I was really clingy last night, and I know that can be annoying.” Arthur frowns. “Have people told you that in the past?” “Not in so many words, but I’m not an idiot.” 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.

The resentment in his voice resonates through Arthur’s bones, and he remembers the day after Ronan ran away. After the healers fixed him. He’d gone back to his room, seen the bed where they’d fucked, the table where they’d shared mugs of ale, too much ale, the shirt on the floor that Ronan always liked to steal. The loss and self-loathing surged up inside him, and instead of praying, Arthur punched a hole in the wall. The pain didn’t help, but he did it again, just to see. Shae hasn’t been punching walls for the past ten years. He’s been too busy punching holes in himself.

“Well done,” Arthur says, and Shae thinks he’s being sarcastic until he looks down and sees the way Arthur smiles up at him. The simple praise crawls into his hindbrain and takes root there, far sweeter than it should be.

“Have you kissed anyone before?” he asks, running his thumb over Shae’s lip. Shae’s eyes dart away. “What kind of idiot would kiss a necromancer?” “In my defense,” Arthur says, “you’re a very attractive necromancer.” “Definitely an idiot,” Shae says. But he moans into the next kiss, arching deliciously against Arthur’s body, until they’re both red-faced and panting. When they break apart, Shae breathes, “I want more.”

“How’re you doing?” Arthur asks, and he has every right to look that smug. Shae’s breath hitches. “Doing fine.” “Fine,” Arthur repeats, laughing. The corners of his eyes crinkle. “Yeah. Lovely weather we’re having, huh?”

Shae resumes his surveillance of Arthur’s lips until Arthur rubs his hand over his chin. “Do I have something on my face?” Shae jumps, nearly dropping his travel bread. He bites his lip, then says, before he can overthink his way around it, “What is this?” He waves his hand. “Us, I mean. Not the bread.” Arthur tilts his head, a familiar smug grin spreading across his face. “I was going to wait until I’d blown you again before asking,”

“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.”

Whenever he looks at Arthur and finds Arthur looking at him too, Shae can’t help smiling like a lovestruck fool. “You’re cheerful today,” Arthur says, grinning right back. “Any good news to share?” Shae tries to compose his expression, and fails spectacularly. “Oh, you know. It’s just such lovely weather.” Arthur reaches out and takes his hand, lacing their fingers together. He doesn’t flinch when he touches silver, and Shae’s palm throbs with the contact. “You’re right,” he murmurs, pulling Shae’s hand up. “The weather’s gorgeous.”

Shae’s breath hitches, and he tugs at Arthur’s tunic. “Fair’s fair.” “Are you sure?” Arthur grins. “People usually think the uniform is dashing.” “It’ll look more dashing on the floor.” “I’ll trust your judgment,”

“Tell me if any of this hurts, all right?” A smirk ghosts on Shae’s lips. “You don’t have to go easy on me, paladin.” “What if I want to?” Arthur leans down and kisses Shae’s stomach. Feels the soft flesh jump under his lips. “You’re very handsome, and I like you a lot. I want you to feel good.” “It’ll feel good,” Shae says, wrapping his ankle behind Arthur’s hip, “if you get around to fucking me before the sun sets.”

Now that Shae’s alone, he’s able to admit that maybe sex isn’t the solution to everything. He’s glad they fucked—truly, viscerally glad—but his desperation and urgency were driven by anxiety as much as desire. He doesn’t like being near people who hate him. He doesn’t like thinking that other paladins might be around with a claim on Arthur’s time and attention. At least instead of just being anxious, now he’s well-fucked and anxious.

Bernard sets his hand on the table in front of Shae. Not slamming it, but hard enough to jolt the empty mug. “My friend Jessop says you came into town yesterday. What are you doing in Lanwatch?” “Currently?” Shae gestures at his plate. “Eating toast.”

Arthur sits down to Shae’s left, and Bernard—to Shae’s immediate annoyance—sits across from Arthur, to Shae’s right. Shae doesn’t miss that Bernard has apologized to everyone in the room except him.

He needs to be strong to face Izen. Surely more power would be safer. A memory surfaces. A little homestead, at the far eastern edge of the Lyralan Crater. The memory should hurt, but it doesn’t now. All that matters is the two graves behind the house. Perhaps he can take one last gift from them, as recompense for leaving him.

He needed to tell the story out loud to release it from his heart. After managing to free one hand from Arthur’s stupid hot grip, he rubs his stinging eyes. “I really hate you,” he mutters. “Fuck. We don’t have time for this, I need to—” “Yeah.” Arthur leans down and steals a kiss. A feather-light blaze against Shae’s lips, searing him to the core. “Let’s banish that demon.”

“I thought you two broke up,” Georgia says, as Arthur kisses Shae’s temple for the dozenth time. “This is insufferable.” “I’d say I’m sorry,” Arthur says with a grin, “but I’m really not.”

“How do I look?” Georgia asks, brushing her hair from her face. “Mostly alive,” Arthur answers.

I’d hate to lose one of my best men over all of this.” Arthur stares. It’s the closest thing to an apology he’s ever heard her give. And for a moment, he’s tempted to accept. To ride back to the Bright Cathedral, his brothers and sisters at his side, to renew his oath and serve the Radiant Order. Only for a moment. Because nothing’s truly changed since he left, except that Arthur knows he made the right choice. Tanner’s being nice to Arthur now, but she hasn’t even looked at Shae once.

Shae’s hand clenches suddenly. “Wait a second,” he says, wide eyed. “You left the order?” Arthur laughs. “I guess I was too busy to mention that, but yeah.” He takes Shae’s other hand too and spins him around so they’re facing each other, and the heat that cascades between them is warmer than anything Arthur’s ever felt. In front of everyone—paladins, soldiers, mercenaries, Vara only knows who else—he bends down to murmur in Shae’s ear, “I’m all yours now.” “What are you doing?” Shae hisses. “You shameless—” But when Arthur kisses him in the middle of the street, he kisses back just as eagerly.