Pain throbbed through Armand's head. Even lying down, he thought he might fall over from waves of dizziness. His chest burned, making it difficult to breath.

Someone shoved him.

"Beloved, I am not feeling well," he said. "I just need a few more minutes of sleep."

A hand slapped him, bringing him closer to consciousness. He realized his hands were bound together.

"Really, Lucy, I'm not in the mood for such games right now. You can leave me tied up, but please let me sleep a bit more."

A man's voice growled, "Wake up, you simpering cur."

Armand opened an eye and saw the blurry image of a Templar standing over him. He closed his eyes and winced.

"You, sir," the necromancer said. "Are not my beloved Lucinda."...

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