"Duke Alaric," he called and the Duke raised his head. "I'll make a promise to you right now. If you come with me to the ballroom and wish your son a happy birthday, I'll help you meet your wife one last time."
Julian had made a daring proposal. He had said words that would be impossible to fulfil unless one worked with sorcery and dark magic.
He didn't know if that was the reason, but once a few seconds had passed, he watched as the warmth in the Duke's eyes faded, replaced by a gaze so sharp it felt like a blade against his throat.
The delusion had shattered, leaving behind a man who was half-sovereign and half-wreckage.
"You dare," Duke Alaric rasped, his voice dropping into dangerously low. "You dare use my affection towards my deceased wife to bargain with me? You must have a death wish for even uttering something as absurd as raising the dead."
