The thief was anxious. 

That much was clear to Cassian as they sat on opposite sides of the fire they’d started. They’d managed to find a suitable spot to rest for the night and, in spite of the complaints Elias had, he’d helped to set up their impromptu camp—not that there was much to set up. 

As sparse as their resting spot was, Cassian appreciated the quiet that came with it. There was the faint sound of a breeze brushing against the trees and the crackling of their fire along with the distant sounds of the beasts that occupied the forest. It was this last thing that likely was to blame for the thief being so on edge. Well, that and the knowledge that Ethelred was after the both of them. 

As if to prove his point, there came a light rustling from somewhere in the depths of the woods, like some small animal scurrying about. It was enough to make the thief jump. All of a sudden, he was holding that damned dagger he seemed so fond of. To Cassian’s horror, he seemed about to throw it—in Cassian’s general direction, as the rustling had come from somewhere behind him. 

“If you hit me with that thing I will kill you,” he warned with a glare, and was both ready and willing to throw whatever vicious curse first came to mind at the thief. 

“Oh, like you could manage that when you could barely start a fire,” Elias snapped, though he put away his weapon. There was a vaguely sheepish look on his face even as the shadows cast by the dancing flames shifted, distorting his expression. The apprehension he felt, however, was still clear enough to see.

“Well, I’m not planning on using any sort of fire against you,” Cassian pointed out. He could come up with more creative means. “Though I might just be able to scare you to death, with how anxious you are. I wasn’t expecting you to be so scared of Ethelred.” He allowed a bit of a mocking tone to color his voice. If the thief was going to continue to stalk him, then he might as well get some sort of entertainment out of the whole ordeal. 

“I’m not scared of him,” Elias argued, though they both knew that was a lie. 

“Is that so? Well, good for you.” Cassian poked at the fire and tossed a bit more wood into it. 

For a while, there was silence, both of them simply sitting there and mulling over everything that had happened the past couple of days. Neither was ready to sleep, even as they’d already shared a small meal composed of what food Cassian had thought to pack before leaving his home. 

“Is there really nothing you can tell me about him?” Elias asked after some time, shattering the silence with the softly spoken question. Cassian stared into the flames, thinking over his answer. 

“There’s a great deal I could tell you about him, but most of it would be useless.” 

Cassian could tell him that Ethelred had once been kind—more so than anyone else he’d met. He could tell the thief of what a patient teacher Ethelred had been and of the way his green eyes would brighten when Cassian mastered a new spell. Cassian could tell Elias of the lies Ethelred had woven and the benign mask he’d worn for years, but none of that mattered. None of that would be of any help in defeating the necromancer. 

And so, instead of any of that, Cassian chose to tell him of what little he knew about the real Ethelred. The one that hid behind a mask of bone but was much more true to himself than ever before. 

“He’s a petty man, and cruel, just as I told you before—but he’s not the sort to act without a plan. There’s always a reason for the things he does, so tread carefully if you mean to go after him.” Cassian wished he’d been given the same warning long ago. “I don’t really know why he’s after you, but he won’t stop until he gets what he wants. Honestly, the best thing you could do is give up and find someplace to hide. But you don’t seem like the type to take good advice.”

Elias scoffed, but didn’t deny the accusation.

“How do you know him so well?” he asked instead. 

“I’ve known him for a while. Or at least, I thought I did,” Cassian said. He wasn’t sure why he bothered answering. Maybe the exhaustion from everything that’d happened was getting to him. 

“Are you related to him?” Elias asked, pausing before continuing. “Was he, uh, your lover?” 

The look Cassian directed at the thief would have made most run away. Elias had only enough sense to shift uncomfortably where he sat. 

“What he was is none of your business,” Cassian said sharply. A more truthful answer was something he had no interest in sharing with the thief. “Your time would be better spent sleeping instead of asking foolish questions.” 

“I thought we should sleep in turns. In case anything happens.” 

“Ethelred isn’t likely to find us so soon.” He eyed the thief, finding clear apprehension on his face. With a sigh, Cassian stood, a thin branch in his hand. “If it makes you shut up and sleep, I’ll cast some wards around us.”

“Rude, but yes, it would help,” Elias muttered in a petulant tone. 

Cassian ignored him in favor of walking around their little campsite, inscribing sigils into the earth as he muttered an incantation he’d learned long ago. He could feel the thief’s eyes following him—could imagine the serpentine green gaze reflecting the light of the flames as they focused on him. The process didn’t take too long, the sigils glowing briefly as the magic was activated. Soon enough, Cassian was done and there was only a dying shimmer around them to signify the wards in place. 

“What language is that?” 

Cassian looked at the thief at the question. It was oddly soft, though  weighed down with exhaustion. Maybe the sincere curiosity in Elias’ voice was what made him answer. 

“It’s an old tongue from a civilization that’s long gone. From back when magic was far more common.” He retook his seat and was glad to be closer to the warmth of the fire as he pulled his cloak closer around him. 

“I’ve never heard any mages use it.” 

“That’s because they’re idiots,” Cassian grumbled. “They focus too much on the new formulas they’ve come up with and forget the power of the old spells.” 

“You don’t seem fond of mages,” Elias commented. 

“And they’re not fond of necromancers so I suppose we’re even.” 

“Most people aren’t fond of necromancers,” Elias said casually, simply stating a fact. It was true enough that Cassian couldn’t find it in himself to be offended. “Why did you decide to become a necromancer?” 

Cassian paused for a minute, simply looking into the still dancing flames in front of him as he thought about the answer to that. He’d always thought his reasons were simple, but now he wondered about that. There had been so many things pushing him towards the path he’d taken—influences he’d not taken notice of until recently—that he could hardly think of it as a conscious choice taken by him. 

“It’s not something I really chose to do. Rather, it was something that was chosen for me.” His gaze grew distant as his thoughts traveled to a far-away place—memories long past returning to him in a rush. “I suppose I never thought to decline the offer. Back then, I didn’t know what that sort of power could be, only what I’d been shown.”

“I’m guessing you hadn’t seen the corpse puppets,” Elias said flatly. Cassian shook his head, his mind still caught in the midst of those memories. “Do you still practice it? Necromancy?’ 

Cassian blinked, finally freeing himself of the daze he’d been in and focusing once more on the thief. He shook his head. 

“Not for a while, I haven’t. I’ve no reason to. Besides, it’s true that most dislike necromancers.” If Cassian wanted to live a quiet life, he had to put away that piece of his past. That was something he’d come to understand very soon after he’d escaped from Ethelred’s grasp. 

“Well, if it makes you feel better, I don’t dislike you for being a necromancer. I dislike you for who you are.” Elias wore a sharp smile as he spoke. Cassian, against all odds, felt his lips twitch in amusement. He managed to keep a mostly straight face, but it was a close thing. 

“How reassuring,” he said, doing his best to sound unimpressed even as he felt a small piece of the burdens he carried lift from him. 

They slept well enough that night, with the conditions not a true inconvenience for either. Cassian had the feeling both he and Elias were similarly used to enduring hardship. Perhaps that was why, when the sun finally rose and they both woke up, he felt a little better about having the thief following him.