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couldn’t rely on Quinn and his Monastery, then I’d need to find someone else. Tristan always said I had the most raw power he’d ever seen in a Necromancer.
    By the gods, I could get trained. “Do you know of anyone who’s refusing the mark? Anywhere I could learn to become a Necromancer?”
    Quinn’s still features melted into a placating look. “You’d need to reach the Grand Mistress level. That’s years of grueling study. Few make it after a lifetime and you only have five years. I say live them to the fullest. Enjoy your farm. Think on your good memories of Tristan.”
    I set my fist on my hip. “If I were the type of person who gave up, I wouldn’t have a farm in the first place. Now, do you know where I can get trained or don’t you?”
    Quinn looked to the ceiling, as if imploring the gods for patience. I was starting to really dislike him. “The Zelle Cloister sits high in the mountains on an isolated spot. Its Sisters are elderly and weak. Word is, the Tsar isn’t bothering to ask for their fealty. Maybe they could train you… If you’re sure that’s what you truly wish to do.”
    I paced the floor. My life teetered on a precipice. On one side, there was life I’d carved out for myself. The Braddock was my legacy and first love. Maybe the Tsar would die of natural causes before my time was up.
    On the other side, there was a chance to save myself and Tristan. I could choose a strange new existence as a Sister in a Cloister for Necromancy. Becoming a Grand Mistress Necromancer meant years of backbreaking work for possibly no reward. And I’d have to leave Braddock Farm behind, maybe to never see it again.
    I ran my fingertips along Tristan’s jawline. Images of his suffering flickered through my mind. His pale skin blackening with char. The mass of gore that was once his firm chest. His horrible screams. That was Tristan’s existence now and for all eternity, and it could be mine as well. Unless I did something.
    There really was no choice. My life tumbled into a new phase. “I’m positive. You can be on your way now.”
    â€œAre you sure you don’t want my help for the journey?” It was hard to tell if he felt anything, but I thought I saw a flicker of worry on his face.
    As much as I wished Quinn would help me, I couldn’t blame him for wanting to protect someone he loved. “No, you’ve fealty to pledge and no time to waste. Besides, there’s a Cloister agent in town. She can take me.” Most towns had a recruiting agent for Necromancers. They were always someone who’d left the order but still had contacts. The one for my Shire had been trying to get me to join up for years. She’d be thrilled when I stopped by. “Please. I’ve kept you long enough as it is.”
    â€œBest of luck to you, then.”
    â€œAnd you as well.”
    Quinn stepped away and closed the door behind him. I moved back to Tristan and gripped his hand. Already, the flesh was ice cold. My friend was gone, but still suffering. “Don’t worry, Tristan. I’ll try with everything I am. For both of us.”
    And I meant it.

Chapter Two
    Five years later
    I leaned against a wall in the Zelle Cloister library and tried to hold back my temper. Good Necromancers always controlled their emotions. And now that I’d attained the level of Grand Mistress Necromancer? I shouldn’t let anything upset me. Still, I wanted to tear every book in this library to shreds.
    I couldn’t find the Master Atlas of Magick , and that was thwarting all my plans.
    After five years of hard work, I’d finally tracked down the elusive Tsar. Viktor would visit the Midnight Cloister on Sunday… The same day that my curse ran out. I brushed my hand over my queasy stomach. In one week, my torso would get torn wide open, followed by fires that would consume me for all eternity. Panic tightened