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“The drake went in after you,” Darri said.

“Just so. I was sitting there in that damnable longhouse talking in the same riddles with the bloody shaman who always vexes me,” he said, some of his lordliness slipping. “And suddenly I could hear him overhead. Valgrind. Screaming like he does for attention. The next thing I knew, he was dragging me up out of the water without having been sent back.”

“Sent back?” Klemens asked.

“I’ve never found my way back on my own before,” he confessed. “The shaman leans in for another kiss, and then I’m back in the water, trying to decide which way is up before drowning.”

He’d said it thoughtlessly – another kiss – and so was unprepared for the way Mattias’s expression suddenly broke.

His brows snapped together, and his lips curved down into a harsh frown. “Kiss?” he asked, voice still gravelly, and Náli wished suddenly that he could dismiss the others because this flash of jealousy was delicious.

“You said another kiss,” Danski clarified, brows lifted, curious and clearly appalled by the idea of receiving one from a dead man.

“Well, it’s not really a kiss,” Náli said, rolling his eyes. “Cold and tedious, more like. When I first go under, his face comes floating out of the water, and it’s more like…” He mimed what happened with his hands. “Like he’s sucking the power out of me. And then, when it’s time to leave, putting just enough back in so that I don’t immediately faint when I’m back on dry land.” It was infuriating all over again to recall the sensations out loud. And here he’d spent the morning feeling more charitable toward the deceased bastard…

Mattias’s frown deepened. His shifted his stance, hips tilting, feet bracing wider apart. He folded his arms, and though self-contained, it was the energy of a man who wanted to fight someone. “What the fuck does he need with your power anyway?” he asked in a rare display of blunt agitation. The other Guards darted looks toward him, noticing.

“I didn’t have a chance to ask him that,” Náli said, dryly, “before I was hauled out of the water like the day’s fresh catch.”

No one looked chagrined.

He sighed. “I told you I didn’t go alone, and I didn’t. I took Valgrind with me, and he got me through the veil without having to swap spit with a dead man. His presence there, on the other side, caused quite a stir. I thought the shaman would piss his robes in fright.”

As succinctly as possible, he told them the tale of the Lady Lucia, and her powers, and the first Corpse Lord.

“It sounds like a children’s story,” Klemens said, stroking his short beard, unconvinced.

“So does most of history,” Náli reasoned.

“You don’t like him,” Mattias said, at last. “What makes you trust that any of what he told you is true?”

“Nothing,” Náli said, honestly. “I need to return and wring the rest of the story from him.”

“Then what?” Klemens again. “You want us to share your magic with you?” His brows lifted. “Would that even work?”

“I don’t know. Presumably the shaman can tell me. But, no. I don’t want that. At least, I won’t ask for that. I merely want to know how it used to be, and if such a thing was even possible. If even one of you opposes the idea, then I won’t pursue it.”

“And if we all agree?” Danski asked.

Náli hesitated, because he hadn’t expected them to. Magic was a burden he wouldn’t wish on anyone. “Then…we’ll talk again. And come to a decision.”

“That’s assuming it’s even possible,” Mattias said.

“Obviously.”

A stare ensued, hostile on Mattias’s part, serene on Náli’s – at least he hoped so. No matter how prickly a façade he wore in front of others, he detested fighting with Mattias. It made him feel as if a part of himself was missing.

He allowed his voice to soften, and spoke to Mattias directly. “I want to uncover the truth. One I’ve been denied since birth, it would seem. Any action taken after that will be the result of a unanimous group decision. I swear that I won’t do anything further on my own.”

Mattias shifted his weight again, muscle in his cheek leaping.

Before Náli could offer anything else reassuring, a light knock sounded on the door. He had the pleasure of watching all five of them frown and turn in exactly the same way.

Einrih strode forward to answer it. A maid stood on the threshold, scrunched down in her starched dress to make herself appear smaller. Her lip actually trembled when she looked up at Einrih, face pale and stricken with terror.

“Yes?” Einrih asked politely. “Do you have a message for his lordship?”

The poor girl gulped audibly, her complexion the same curdled cream as the waters of the well. Náli thought she might swoon right into Einrih’s arms – and then swoon again when she realized what she’d done. “I – I – um.” Another gulp. “I’ve a message for – for Lord Náli.”