The Last Necromancer

Chapter 16, Part 2

He merely watched me from beneath long, thick lashes, but his face didn't change. Nor did he speak.

"You killed that man." I pressed a hand to my churning stomach. "You stabbed him to death, and yet he had done exactly as you asked."

"No, he didn't. He went too far. He was only meant to scare you."

"He succeeded."

"He wasn't supposed to go through with it and hurt you."

"Is that so? You thought you could control such a man?"

"Yes," he said quietly.

"Perhaps it's your fault that he almost succeeded," I snapped. "Perhaps he misunderstood you. Or were you just slow in reacting and rescuing me? Rescuing," I sneered before he could answer. "My God, Fitzroy." I leaned back against the trunk of an apple tree and drew in deep breaths to steady my frayed nerves. "How could you?"

Not only had he paid a monster to scare me, he'd then gone on to kill him. If he was capable of such things, what else was he capable of doing?

He didn't speak as I tried to gather my wits. It was impossible to tell what he was thinking, with the mask in place, his eyes hooded. He held himself very still and seemed to be waiting for me to do or say something.

"Why're you telling me this?" I finally asked.

"So you can make an informed decision. If you choose to stay, that is the sort of person you'll be living with."

A cold-hearted killer. A man whose moral lines were blurred, and who'd do anything to succeed. The leader of an organization whose members didn't want a necromancer in their midst.

Yet he was also a man who'd never failed to protect me, and who'd offered me a safe home among friends.

"Do you want me to stay?" I asked.

"I want you to make a choice based on the facts. If you decide to stay, there will be a place here for you."

It wasn't the answer I'd wanted, but I knew it was the best he would give. He certainly wasn't trying to make it easy for me to decide, telling me I would be nothing more than a maid, as well as opening my eyes to the sort of person he could be. It was an odd way to induce me to stay, and yet I was grateful that he'd been upfront and that he left the decision to me.

"I'll give you time to think about it," he said, turning and walking off.

I pushed off from the tree. "I'll have an answer for you tomorrow." I raced after him and he slowed his steps to match mine. "You could have caught my hand," I told him.

His gaze slid sideways to me.

"I know your reflexes are fast. You could have caught my hand before I slapped your cheek." When he still didn't speak, I added, "You'll be gratified to know that it hurt me too."

"Will I?"

"I assume that now I'll be working for you, I can no longer use violence against you when you do or say something ill-conceived."

"You assume correctly."

"Then you'd better not do anything ill-conceived. I have a temper too, and controlling it isn't easy."

"I'll be sure to catch your hand next time."

I didn't tell him I had a good kick on me. We walked back to the house together. The committee had all departed, and the delicious scent of baking bread wafted out of the kitchen. I was starving.