The Necromancer's Light (Radiance, #1)

by Tavia Lark

Arthur wonders how he’ll survive the direct force of Shae’s smile turned towards him.

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 slides down the wall to sit on the floor and pulls Shae into his lap. The necromancer will probably stab him for this when he wakes up, but Arthur can deal with that then.

Duchess barely looks up at him from her thorough grazing. Shae avoids eye contact with her, as if she would recognize and judge his inappropriate feelings for her human.

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.

The way my heart broke

“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.”

“I want this to be the start of something.” Arthur leans forward, focused entirely on him. “And I’m not eager to part ways that quickly.”

He’s not surprised when Arthur scoots closer to him and pulls his face up. He’s always doing that, drawing Shae out of himself, forcing him to look at the world outside his shell. This time, the entire world is the kiss that Arthur drags him into. The start of something. After ten years of endings, Shae likes the sound of that.

“Let me get your back too,” he suggests selfishly. Shae shoves his drenched hair back from his face and wipes the water from his eyes. “You don’t have to make excuses to touch me,” he says, turning around. “Unless you’re really excited about hygiene.”

He covers Shae’s mouth and swallows down every breath, every whimper he can get. Shae kisses back like a starving man, and Arthur wonders how he ever thought the necromancer was cold at heart.

Shae inhales, unclenches his fists with effort, and drapes his arms over Arthur’s shoulders. “I think I’m still mad at you.” Arthur laughs breathlessly and hugs Shae closer. “That’s fine. You can be mad.” “Thanks,” Shae says dazedly. “I appreciate that.”

He needed to tell the story out loud to release it from his heart.

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.