Page 21 of Necromance
We stared at each other, the tension stretching taut between us. I cleared my throat, shaking off the feeling creeping over me.
“Why are you in my room, Lucien?”
He shrugged, as if it should be obvious. “I was waiting for you to wake up.”
“Why?”
His smirk faltered slightly, his expression shifting into something unreadable. “Because after what happened last night, I wanted to be sure you would wake up.”
I blinked.
Something in my chest tightened, unexpected and unwelcome. For a moment, the teasing edge between us dulled. I watched him carefully, noting the way his fingers curled slightly where they rested on his knee.
He had been worried.
I tilted my head. “Why do you care?”.
His jaw flexed, his grin returning. “Someone has to release me from this place,” he said smoothly, standing.
I scoffed. “Of course. And how exactly did you come here if I didn’t summon you?”
His eyes sparkled in the firelight, his dimple revealing itself as he grinned. “You did summon me.”
“I was asleep,” I argued.
“Yes you were.”
The implication settled over me and a fresh blush heated my cheeks. Had I said his name in my sleep?The dream.
Seven hells… I looked away from him.
He crossed the room to stand near the freshly stroked fire.
Had he done that?
“Dreaming about me already?” He asked and though his back was to me, I could hear that devious smile in his words.
I was just about to defend myself against his presumptions, tellhim about the memory of his story from my dream, but before I could speak, he turned back to me, twirling an invisible piece of dust between his fingers.
“I think I may have found something for you.”
I sat up, pulling the blanket up to cover my bare flesh beneath my thin nightgown and yawned. “It better be something good.”
His gaze drifted to where my hands clutched the blanket and for a brief moment, his eyes lingered there before he looked into the fire.
“While you were lazing about, I went to the study and found this.”
He turned back, stuffing his hand into his pocket, revealing a neatly folded piece of parchment. I frowned as he crossed the room then held it out to me. I sat up fully, taking the letter from him. The parchment was worn, the ink faded in places, but still mostly legible. My fingers traced the edges as I carefully unfolded it.
“My dearest Lucien”,it began.
My stomach twisted, but I ignored it, forcing myself to read on. The words spoke of longing, of devotion, of something forbidden. Whoever had written this letter had loved Lucien… loved him enough to risk something for him. There were hints of secrecy, of desperation.
“I cannot bear the thought of losing you. Every moment apart is agony. You must know that I would do anything to be yours, truly yours, without the world between us. Say the word, and I am yours forever.”
The final lines were smudged, faded with time or perhaps ruined by careless fingers. But no signature remained.
No name.
