It was only then that it hit home to Gideon what Ianthe had done. The bizarre sight of a necromancer holding a sword—a ghost fighting inside the meat suit of his adept—made it real that Naberius was dead, but that he was dead inside Ianthe. It was not that he had taught her how to fight: it was him fighting. There was Naberius’s instant counterstrike; there was Naberius’s gorgeous deflection, the tiny movement knocking Colum’s shield away. Normally Gideon would have been fascinated to watch
