Of course she had promised. It was an inherently risky business, being Abhorsen, though the risks were at least her own to take. But the news had spread quicker than they'd feared, until she had no other choices.
"Yes, I promised," she muttered when he asked for the hundreth time today, she was certain, and they were only halfway through breakfast. "We both know the risk is too much. I'll deal with necromancers here." Touchstone had the good grace to look nearly convinced. Sabriel just winced and tried to keep down food her body didn't want.
Finding the space to do it was harder than she'd have wished. By mid-afternoon, she waded through the river of death, promise thoroughly broken. Early evening and she was back to herself, halfway between triumphant and guilty.
"This is only going to get worse," she reprimanded her reflection as she fixed her hair and stared morosely at her growing belly. It was unfortunate she was correct.