Free Storms of Lazarus (Shadows of Asphodel, Book 2) by Karen Kincy Page A

Must have been quite a crunch.
    How much did Wendel remember? Because she remembered it all. Every damn thing.
    Her name, halfway spoken, in his last few heartbeats. His cold lips under her own. Her kiss that brought him back.
    His borrowed necromancy shivering like lightning over her skin.
    Ardis uncurled her hands and stared at them. Healing scars crisscrossed her palms. She had grabbed the broken glass of the window without even thinking, when she leaned out to see Wendel falling from the tower.
    He hadn’t even noticed she had been hurt that night. That she was still hurting.
    Ardis bent over the toilet and vomited. She lost three shots of schnapps, and breakfast besides, and retched until she could breathe again. Shaking, she flushed the toilet and washed herself in the tiny sink. She stared at her reflection in the dim little mirror. She looked awful, her face splotchy, her eyes bloodshot.
    There was a hesitant rap on the door.
    “Just a minute,” she said.
    “Ardis? Are you all right?”
    It was Konstantin. It wasn’t as if Wendel was sober enough to care.
    “No,” Ardis said.
    A pause. “Are you ill?”
    Ill. Such a polite way to put it.
    “I blame the schnapps,” she said.
    Ardis unlocked the door. Konstantin lingered outside the bathroom with worried eyebrows. He still wore the captain’s hat.
    “Come on,” Ardis said. “I don’t want to spend Christmas in a bathroom.”
    She tried to smile, tried to keep walking, but Konstantin caught her arm.
    “Wendel can’t be dead,” he whispered.
    Bitterness lingered on her tongue. “I watched him die.”
    “But how did—?”
    “Necromancy.”
    Konstantin narrowed his eyes. “He resurrected himself?”
    “No, I did.”
    “How?”
    “Listen, why don’t you ask Wendel? I’m not the expert here.”
    Konstantin bit his lip. He fidgeted as though he desperately wanted to ask questions and take notes, maybe even write a scientific paper. She looked the archmage in the eye and waited for him to stop looking so impatient.
    “When do we get to Prussia?” Ardis said.
    Konstantin blinked. “Soon.” A blush touched his cheeks. “Himmel would know.”
    Ardis returned to the captain’s cabin. Wendel and Himmel stood by the couch. Wendel was halfway dressed, barefoot with an unbuttoned shirt. Himmel looked flustered, a few strands of his slicked hair falling over his face.
    Konstantin cleared his throat. “Are we interrupting anything?”
    “Not at all,” Himmel said. “Just a little chat with the necromancer.”
    Wendel met Ardis’s gaze. His eyes glittered with an emotion she couldn’t put a name to.
    “Ardis?” Wendel said.
    “I’m fine,” Ardis said.
    Wendel furrowed his brow, like he knew she was lying. He stepped closer to her, but Himmel grabbed him by the shoulder.
    Wendel curled his lip. “Unhand me.”
    “Sit down,” Himmel commanded.
    Wendel did as the captain said, helped by a shove toward the couch.
    “Be a gentleman,” Himmel said. “Apologize.”
    “Yes, sir,” Wendel said, his words still a drunken drawl. “Please accept my most sincere apologies for drinking too much of your schnapps. And for telling the truth about my untimely demise at such an inappropriate time.”
    Himmel glared at him. “You should be apologizing to Ardis.”
    “Forgive me.” Wendel met her gaze. “Did I upset you?”
    “Yes,” Ardis said.
    “I’m terrible with this whole honesty thing. You know I make a much better liar.”
    She snorted. “Not judging by your skill at poker.”
    Konstantin laughed, then disguised it by clearing his throat.
    “Do I need to drop to my knees and grovel?” Wendel said. “Because I can.”
    Ardis sighed. “Don’t.”
    A knock on the door interrupted them. Himmel shrugged on his jacket and stole his hat back from Konstantin. When Himmel opened the door, Ardis glimpsed an officer with an impressive handlebar mustache.
    “Captain,” the officer said. “You might want to come see this.”
    Himmel frowned.