Shadows of Asphodel Read Free Page B

means?”
    “No,” Ardis said.
    “Undying.”
    She heard satisfaction in his voice, and she was afraid to ask what foul curse imbued his dagger. Ever since the Hex, hundreds of enchanted blades had materialized on the European black market. The archmages of Vienna had anticipated this, though not the breadth of cruel creativity—a thousand and one ways to die.
    Ardis’s hand found Chun Yi again. At least her blade was honest metal.
    “It’s late,” Ardis said. “We’re catching the next train out of here.”
    Wendel slid his thumb along the flat of Amarant as if polishing away a fleck of blood.
    Ardis was tired of waiting, and still nauseated from his little show of necromancy. She began to walk to camp. She didn’t care if she left the necromancer behind on the battlefield. Silence pressed on her ears, broken only by the slow hushing of her breath. The snowfall thickened around her as the wind quickened.
    A crow cawed in a nearby pine, and Ardis flinched. Fatigue always frayed her nerves.
    Footsteps crunched the snow, running fast, catching up. “Ardis.”
    Hearing her name in his voice felt odd. Like she should have never given her name to a necromancer. But that wasn’t how magic worked, not really. That was just fairytales and nursery rhymes. So why was she still off balance?
    “What train?” Wendel said.
    “The train in Petroseni,” she said. “It leaves in about an hour.”
    He moved alongside her, struggling to breathe steadily. “We’re walking there?”
    “No,” she said.
    Ardis nodded in the direction of camp, shadowed by the zeppelins of the medics.
    “We’re flying.”
    ~
    Wendel leaned against the wall of the zeppelin’s utilitarian cargo hold, his eyes closed, as diesel engines powered the airship skyward. Ardis studied him more closely, now that he wasn’t looking. He wore a borrowed shirt and black long coat that were slightly too big for him. The sleeves of the coat partly covered his clenched fingers.
    “You!” A man whistled at her, like she was a dog. “Can you hear me?”
    It was the medic who had cured Wendel on the battlefield.
    Ardis narrowed her eyes. “What?”
    “Make sure he gets plenty of fluids,” he said. “He may need another blood transfusion.”
    She glared at the medic. “I’m a mercenary, not a nurse.”
    “I’ll do it,” Wendel said, without opening his eyes. “I’ll get the blood and the whatnot.”
    The medic took a step back, startled, but recovered quickly. “And apply a fresh bandage to the wound in a few hours.”
    Wendel opened his eyes a sliver. “Yes, sir.”
    The medic didn’t seem to detect any sarcasm in his voice, so he nodded and walked away.
    Ardis glanced at Wendel. She wanted to ask how he was feeling, but she didn’t want to sound like she cared, not like that .
    “I’m fine,” he said to her, and he looked into her eyes. “I’m not going to die.”
    She didn’t blink. “Don’t. That would be counterproductive.”
    Wendel’s smile was startlingly swift and genuine. He was even more handsome when he smiled, not that it surprised her.
    “You Americans,” he said. “Always so tactful.”
    Ardis was aware of her fast heartbeat, but she didn’t look away. “Always.”
    Wendel’s smile faded, and she was sad to see it go. Why did someone as bad as a necromancer have to look so good?
    “How long of a flight is this going to be?” he said.
    “About thirty minutes,” she said, “in this weather. Do you hate flying?”
    He shrugged. “I’m indifferent to flying.” He tilted his head. “Is thirty minutes long enough for me to hear your long and boring genealogy?”
    Ardis wrinkled her nose. “Why do you want to know?”
    “You intrigue me.”
    She would have sworn he was trying to charm her, but he wasn’t smiling anymore. She wasn’t sure how she felt about that.
    Ardis fidgeted against the cold steel of the zeppelin, then folded her legs under herself.
    “You first,” she said.
    Wendel let his head fall back