All because of lies. Because she was too cowardly, too pathetic to stop the [Necromancer]. A girl playing the part of the fool who caused the calamity. All of it, her fault.

Duchess Grishen’s words came back to Cara. Then—the [Necromancer]. Feren. She could have done something. She could have.

But she had not. So Cara shook. There was nowhere to run, and the raging specter’s wrath was justified.

Numbly, Cara spoke.

“I didn’t help him. But I might as well have. You’re right, Dalius. You should have killed me. Then none of this would have come to pass.”

The writhing ghost was snarling, trying to pull the magic apart. Stretching. His…body…was stretching.

Dalius—the man—the entity could almost hear something whispering.

If you let go, you could reach her. Bite her. Twist free of these bindings meant for a mortal man.

Twist. Contort. He only looked like a [Knight] because he thought he was a man.

He had lost his honor. His people. Failed his one duty. An arm lengthened. He reached out.

Kill her. Kill her and the [Necromancer]. Kill them both and bury the tomb forevermore. Could I rest in madness, in the darkness, and forget what I’ve done?

Afiele.

His home was defiled.

A hand reached out, lengthening. He almost could touch her. Then the ghost heard a faint sound. Saw a glittering substance reflected on her cheeks.

The writhing specter saw the young woman raise her head. She was crying. Weeping. Tears ran from Cara’s eyes.

The claw reaching for her stilled in the air. For a second, the ghost hesitated.

Then the [Knight] stared at Cara. Dalius’ face shifted back. Warily. Distrustfully. Yet he…had to know.

One last time. So he snarled.

“False tears, like every lie you’ve ever told me. How can I believe anything you say? Is Afiele even burning? You were the [Necromancer]’s accomplice. Another world? You lie like you breathe. How can I trust—”

He scowled at her. At her tears. So angry the rest of the words left him. How dare you pretend?

Cara slowly looked at Dalius. She shook her head. The tears kept falling from her eyes.

“There’s nothing to believe. Nothing to do. Just—there is no reason for you to trust me, Dalius. None at all.”

She focused on him. The answer did not please Dalius, even in bitter satisfaction. He snarled silently, fighting against every dark instinct pressing at him. Cara looked at him, shifting, tortured.

At least this. At least…

She hesitated, then desperately reached for one of the threads made of glowing midnight. She touched it and cried out. Something turned her flesh dull, like the spell the [Necromancer] had cast.

She recoiled, hands shooting away, backing up—then hesitated. Cara steeled herself and reached out again. She clenched her teeth, but before she could touch the strand, Dalius laughed mockingly, watching her.