“It’s nothing. Would you hand my waistcoat to me, please?”
A bit concerned by his dismissal, she lifted the garment from the bed and held it out so he could slip his arms into it. When he turned back to her, Kate peered at the upper edge of the tattoos visible above the open collar of his shirt. She ran a finger along one of the lines, feeling his skin and the light hairs. His muscles twitched beneath her touch. She looked up into piercing eyes as dark as any numinous forest.
“That is most improper, miss,” he breathed.
“Is it?” Her voice was surprisingly deep and her hand slid down along his chest.
Simon flinched, his mood changing immediately. He stepped away.
“I … I’m sorry, Simon.” Kate was surprised and embarrassed. “I didn’t mean to … I don’t know, but I didn’t mean to.”
“No, Kate. It isn’t you.”
She almost laughed as he began the oldest speech in the manual.
He took her hand in a quick reassuring gesture. “It’s merely that I have a bit of a souvenir from the Red Orchid.”
“It is more than just the fall from the window, isn’t it?”
Simon looked down into Kate’s green eyes and gave a glib wink. He was going to make light of the situation. Her heart raced with trepidation.
“Yes. I survived, but I didn’t quite escape.” He unbuttoned his shirt and drew it down from his neck. On his chest, where his heart would be, was a horrible reddish patch. The skin was inflamed, almost blistered.
“Oh Simon.” Kate started to touch it, but he backed away again. “No wonder you’re in pain. I have something to alleviate the burn.”
“It isn’t a burn.” He covered the wound. “It’s a necromancer’s curse.”
“Oh my God,” she blurted out, but then worked to make her voice steady and analytical. “What will happen to you?”
Simon let out the breath he had been holding. “I can’t be sure, but I’ve heard of various necromancer curses and the most traditional result is pain.”
“How bad?”
“It’s a bit annoying at the moment. I suspect it’ll get considerably worse until I can’t do much useful because of the pain. That’s usually how these things go.”
Kate couldn’t believe what she was going to say. “Are you going to die … again?”
“No. Well, not unless I kill myself, which is difficult with a necromancer involved. Damned inconvenient. They simply bring you back.”
“We’ll find a cure.”
“Possible, but not likely. Even for your considerable skills. I’ve never heard of a necromancer’s curse being cured except by complementary magic. Usually, it’s the necromancers themselves who remove it. Traditionally, that’s how necromancers get wealthy. Curse. Ransom. Cure. And so on for years until a mob with torches finally has enough and burns them or throws them off a cliff.”
Kate pulled out a chair, urging Simon to sit as if he were an invalid. He gently pushed the chair in again.
“Why are you so stubborn?” she exclaimed.
Simon held up a cautionary hand. “Don’t worry.”
“Don’t worry? Are you insane? You have a scar over your heart that will send you into madness from the pain, and I can’t help you! But I shouldn’t worry? Well, fine then. As long as everything is perfect. What shall we have for breakfast?” Kate glared, her chest rising and falling with gulping breaths of rage and terror. She grabbed the chair and slammed it on the floor. “You can’t just smirk and say something oh so charming and make it go away. This isn’t a joke, Simon.”
“I’m not laughing, but I’m not dying either.” Simon crossed his arms. “I told you this because we have no secrets from one another, but we have to deal with it reasonably. We’ll have Barnes eventually. And I’m sure we can impress upon him the necessity of removing this curse.” He gave a wan smile and straightened his shirt.
Kate started to embrace him, but hesitated. Not about to decline her tender mercies again, he leaned forward and took her in his arms without reservation and with no sign of pain. His lips brushed hers. She put her head against his shoulder.
There was a hesitant knock and they turned to see Malcolm in the open doorway. The Scotsman looked embarrassed to interrupt, staring at the floor.
“Sorry.” Malcolm held out an envelope. “I took the liberty of retrieving your mail from the Devil’s Loom. I thought you should see this.”
Simon noted the feel of heavy-weave stationery and saw a crest on the envelope. Simon laughed. “It’s from the prime minister’s office.”
Kate looked over his shoulder. “Prime Minister North is writing to you?”
“Shocking, I know.” Simon broke the wax seal, slid out a thick note card, and read it. “It isn’t signed, but I’m requested for a meeting. Well done, Henry. I’m astounded by his success. Care to join me, Kate?”
“I’m not invited.”