Page 84 of Prince of the Undying

His words echoed deep inside my heart. I struggled not to drown in my emotions.

I couldn’t stop staring at his back. The Grandmaster’s dagger had left its mark, but most of his scars were far older, far deeper. They slanted across his back like a tiger had clawed his skin,though it couldn’t be from an animal attack. The truth had to be far uglier.

“Whipping scars?” I asked.

“Obviously.” He poured himself a shot of absinthe, knocked it back, and hissed through gritted teeth. The liquor must have burned his throat.

“What happened to you?”

“My disobedience went too far. Until that day, I had obeyed them. I practiced my necromancy on animals. On cats, at first, since they learned that was how I started. They killed the creatures for me.”

“This was in Constantinople?”

“The city was beautiful. It gave me the best memories of my childhood.” His voice sounded devoid of emotion, his eyes as cold as ice. “Can you believe I hoped animals would satisfy their morbid curiosity?”

Wendel grabbed the absinthe and drank straight from the bottle. Grimacing, he reached for his glass instead. His hands trembled as he poured himself yet another drink, and he spilled the liquor on the carpet.

“A bit too much absinthe,” he muttered.

Tears stung my eyes. “Why did they hurt you?”

He stared into the distance. “Inevitably, they brought me to a dead man. He had been hanged.” He rubbed his neck as if remembering bruises. “My magic was strong enough, at the time, but my mind… I blacked out. When I refused to revive the next dead man, I was whipped. Severely. They couldn’t hold my hand to a cadaver’s skin and force the necromancy out of me, but they could force me to obey them. I was sixteen.”

“God, Wendel, you…” I pressed my knuckles to my mouth. “You were so young.”

A muscle jumped in his jaw. “I was their prodigy.”

I closed my eyes against brimming tears that threatened to overflow any second now. He dragged me into a tight embrace and stroked my hair.

“Ardis, Ardis, please don’t cry.”

“Promise me you won’t die.”

“I don’t want to die.” His voice rasped with raw emotion. “But I can’t live like this any longer. I need to face the Order of the Asphodel.”

Dread clamped around my throat like an iron fist. “No.”

“I have to go.”

“Don’t go alone. I can’t let them hurt you again. Let me come with you. Please.”

He stared at me, his eyes glittering, before he squeezed them shut. “No one…” He cleared his throat. “No one has ever wanted to help me before.”

“Never?”

He was on the brink of tears, struggling not to cry.

“Never,” he said. “Not until you. You’re the only one who has ever truly cared for me.”

My heart broke at his words. How could anyone not care for him? He was fiercely intelligent, brave, witty, and loyal. And yet he had been abandoned or betrayed by everyone important in his life.

He kissed me, his mouth bittersweet from lingering absinthe. When we parted, he looked deeply into my eyes. “Come with me to Constantinople.”

“Did you think you could stop me?”

“No.” His mouth twisted wryly.

“When do we leave?”

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