Page 43 of Necromancers Don't Raise

“Yes.”

“Then you will put hands on Miss Nova. Like Master’s tailor, wrapping with tapes and covering in cloth.” Bones frowned like it wasn’t something he’d look forward to, but then he smiled at me. “Shoes and dress today.”

“Shoes and fabric today. The dress will be finished by tomorrow,” Bas corrected. “And she’ll have to help me sew it up. None of the usual fairies will touch a necromancer.”

“How nice that you have no such reservations,” I said, wryly.

His eyes gleamed. “I’ve seen Mercury from a distance, and his suit was velvet and leather, put together with the most intricate artistry. It looked ogre made, if there is such a thing. Raw, and yet so incredibly precise. I want to examine his suits.”

“No,” Bones said, very clearly. “Only Miss Nova is allowed in Master’s bedroom.”

Bas shot a sly look at me. “Is that how it is? Why Miss Nova, I’m positively shocked.”

I rolled my eyes. “I apologize for upsetting your delicate sensibility. I say sensibility, because I heard you have one.”

“Only half of one.” He grinned at me and pulled me faster.

The shop was the sort of thing my mother never would have approved of, from the green sign shimmering with magic effects to the fact that every single accessory was spelled for something or other. I walked down an aisle filled with shoes that sparkled, hummed, and otherwise tried to get my attention. I stopped when I saw a pair of guns, only they were so delicate and curlicued, they couldn’t possibly be functional. They whispered to me of precision and three-round bursts while I leaned closer until I saw my reflection in the gold and silver filigree.

“Excellent choice,” the elven shop owner said with a slight twitch of his sculpted, dark brows. He had to wax them to get them that perfectly uniform.

“I’m here for guns, not shoes.”

His smile became positively diabolical. “But of course, there are shoes that match this particular set of pistols.”

I glanced at the pistols and then at him. “Seriously? Who matches guns and shoes?”

“The truly discerning client. I had those made a few hundred years ago for a certain client that accidentally had a run-in with a troll. They’ve been waiting for a home ever since. Never worn, never used, just waiting for the perfect owner.”

The ‘perfect’ had me pulling back, because I’d seen my reflection, and it wasn’t anything close to perfect.

“Let’s see the shoes,” Sebastian said, leaning forward to examine the guns. “Interesting direction to take the gems, but not entirely a bad one. I like it.”

“Gems?” the clerk asked with a raised brow. “What gems are we speaking of?”

Sebastian showed him my drawing, waved it in his face for the briefest moment, but it was enough for the clerk’s brows to raise to his very high and dramatic hairline.

“You are in possession of the aquamarine set created for the immortal Daphne of Desdre by her consort?—”

Sebastian cut him off. “We’re not here for a history lesson. Do you have shoes to match the guns or not?”

The elf swallowed down the story he had been launching and nodded. “If you would like to see the shoes, follow me. Bring the guns, miss. They have already chosen you.”

Sebastian snorted. “So, they’re free then?”

The elf gave him a disgusted look. “Is money the only thing you ever think of?”

“No. I also think of ale, but have you tried to drink ale this side of the river?”

“What river are you talking about? Never mind,” the elf muttered, taking us to the aisle I’d already passed with the most expensive and elaborate shoes imaginable. He stopped in front of a pair that looked far more decorative than functional. Yes, they matched the guns, all silver and gold filigree with tiny aquamarine gems on the slipper toes while the heels looked like saplings springing up and tangling around to come up and cup the heel.

“They really are perfect for the Daphne gems,” I said when I reached out to smooth my hand along the curvaceous heel. “But I’m not sure I can wear these. I’m mostly human.”

“They’re spelled for grace, balance, and comfort,” the elf said stiffly. “Try them on and we will see if they like you as much as the guns do.”

I stood there while Sebastian held out the shoe that looked far too hard and artistic to work, but once it touched my foot, the metal warmed and melted against my skin, growing onto my foot like some kind of octopus, curling around my toes and heel until it was very securely on.

I stared at that shoe and then down at the gun. They both chose that moment to gleam with an extra bright sparkle.

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