Shadows of Asphodel Read Online Free Page B

bowed his head, and his hair shadowed his face.
    “The Order of the Asphodel,” he said, “among others.”
    “Are you a wanted man?” Ardis said.
    “I’m not wanted by very many,” he said dryly. “But once they question my loyalty, they won’t stop until they have found me.”
    She clenched her jaw. Things were beginning to make more sense now.
    “You swore fealty to me,” she said.
    “I did.”
    Ardis climbed to her feet and looked down at him.
    “Don’t try to use me,” she said, “for your own devices. I’m not an idiot, and I’m not blind. I won’t be your alibi while you go rogue.”
    He lifted his head. “I’m not their puppet, and I won’t let them hurt you.”
    She laughed scathingly. “As if you could protect me.”
    Wendel stood, his face only inches from her own. The smoldering in his eyes made her mouth go dry. He didn’t smell like blood and death, as she had expected, but like rain on pines. The train swayed along a curve in the tracks, and she gripped the table beneath the windows, afraid she would lean on him.
    “I promised you,” he whispered, “that I would repay my debt to you. I owe you the courtesy of saving your life in return.”
    She didn’t blink. “And after you save my life?”
    “After?” He furrowed his brow. “What do you mean?”
    “Will you turn on me, and kill me in my sleep?”
    His eyebrows arched. “Why?”
    “I have no reason to trust you,” she said.
    “Then I will earn your trust.” He met her eyes. “Will you let me do that?”
    “Damn,” she sighed, and she sank back into her seat. “I don’t want to deal with this. I just want to do my job and get paid.”
    Wendel tilted his head. “Why do you kill for profit?”
    His question knocked her off balance. She stared at him.
    “Why do you?” she said.
    “I don’t.”
    She laughed derisively. “But you’re a necromancer.”
    He lifted one shoulder in a lopsided shrug. “I don’t get paid.”
    “Then is killing a labor of love?”
    As soon as she had said it, she regretted how callous it sounded. But Wendel didn’t flinch. He looked at her with ice in his eyes.
    “A matter of survival,” he said.
    “Then we understand each other,” she said.
    The cold in Wendel’s eyes melted. He seemed to be studying her face, and she felt her cheeks betray her with a blush.
    “You must be more than a mercenary,” he said.
    She frowned. “Are you more than a necromancer?”
    His face sharpened, and he didn’t speak for a long moment.
    “I want to be.”
    When she saw the hope in his eyes, the knot of anger inside her unraveled. Either he was a very good liar, or she was beginning to believe him.
    ~
    The warm glow of the dining car contrasted with the wind-driven sleet outside the train’s windows. Ardis leaned back in her chair, her spine aching, and relished this hard-won moment of rest. The polite murmur of conversation and the clink of silverware on china were a far cry from the sounds of the battlefield.
    “Ma’am?” said a waiter in a white uniform. “Could I start you with something to drink?”
    “Just water,” she said. “Thank you.”
    “Very well, ma’am. Please let me know if you need anything else.”
    She had to admit, she could get used to this first-class service.
    At the table nearby, a woman wrapped in furs giggled at her companion, a portly man in a top hat. She doubted they had started their journey in Transylvania. More likely they were just passing through on their way to Budapest. They likely couldn’t even see the rebel skirmishes from the railways.
    And where was Wendel?
    She hadn’t seen him since their conversation in the cabin, when he had excused himself and vanished elsewhere on the train. She could only hope he hadn’t passed out, considering how he was still looking poorly.
    “May I join you?”
    Ardis glanced to her side, a sarcastic comment armed and ready—but it wasn’t Wendel.
    A slender man with sandy curls and a neatly-trimmed beard stood