Delphinium, or A Necromancer's Home (TCoLaD Book 2)

Mora

~ Siwenday, 2nd of Maius, 11831 ~

There was an uneasiness among all in the château. Cordelia refused to leave her rooms and Pierre could not blame her. The guilt, while lessened from speaking with the priest, still wrapped around his heart the next day. If Jourdain was just dead perhaps he could have let it go, but no, he had the power to return Jourdain to life. He could go down to the dungeons right now and bring him back. Returning from the dead messed with one's memories enough that the advisor would not remember being dead, or how he had been killed, and that could easily be attributed to a stay in Faery.

"What if I was wrong?" he asked Pluta, pacing around his room. A pigeon had just brought the message that the search party had found nothing—no way into Faery, no contact at all with any fée. They were still searching, but said they would return soon if no leads were found. They would regroup then and try another plan.

But Pierre knew it would not work.

"It would not be the first time you killed an innocent man," his familiar replied, licking her paw. "Why does this bother you so?" It was not said with malice, merely a statement of fact.

Pierre sighed and ran a hand through his hair. It now had short streaks of white amid the grey and black. Was it due to magic or stress? "I did not know that man. Ophion made it as humane as possible, and then he was given a proper burial. This is just..." He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. The man that he had killed at eighteen had been a patient of Ophion's, induced in a deep sleep. If he knew his uncle it was also likely that that man had been dying anyway. But Mora's test then had only asked that he kill an innocent man, not cut short a life that would still be very long and prosperous. This was Jourdain, a man he had known, come to respect if he ignored his suspicions, and then had killed while looking him in the eyes. As many foul things as he had done before this was new.

He did not know if it was a comfort that such things still caused him great distress.

"If it bothers you that much then return him to life," his familiar said. She jumped off of her perch and sauntered over to him, nudging his legs and then purring. "Accuse him and his brother formally, have the evidence gathered, and watch them die legally."

"And put Cordelia in even more stress? Have him return and then hang?" That would be even worse for her, may even be enough to induce a miscarriage. He would not do that to an innocent woman and child.

"Now you are just being contradictory."

Pierre glared at her and returned to pacing. There was no good answer, there was no possible way this ended well. And it was his fault. Like how he had not become duc sooner.

Was he just as bad as Augustin?

"You are not."

He stopped, feeling the air change in the room, and hearing the voice he had not been allowed to hear in weeks.

"My Lady?"

"My favorite," Death replied.

"Am I still?" The words were whispered. He felt like a child who questioned whether he was still loved after doing something against his parent's wishes. She had appeared behind him and he dared not turn around yet.

"You have done much in my name these last few weeks and it had caused you much stress. I found I could not keep away."

He turned to see his Lady. She was again in modern attire, her wings hidden, and no longer covered in blood. The chill that often followed her was gone and there was almost a warmth in its place. He took several steps towards her and knelt, bowing his head, closing his eyes, accepting.