The preserver was knocked unconscious, but he was alive. Alfred could leave him with a clear conscience. The Sartan hurried over to the duke’s side, bent down, not certain what he could do or say to persuade the grief-stricken man to flee for a life that he must now care little about.
Alfred started to speak, stopped, sucked in a breath.
Jonathan’s magic had worked. Jera’s eyes were open, staring about her. She looked up at her husband with the warm and shining eyes of the living. He reached out to her but at that moment, her visage wavered, dissolved, and she was staring at him with the cold, vacant gaze of the dead.
“Jonathan