8. Raven
Even though Valen hadn’t let on that he noticed anything out of the ordinary where I was concerned, I decided that wearing gloves during any future supervised reaping sessions might be prudent.
I flexed my hands and studied the blue tips crusting down over my reddened knuckles. Tiny tremors raced through my hand, setting my slim fingers to quiver.
Beyond the palace windows, the sky was dark yet clear. The entirety of the day had been swept away beneath Valen’s tedious and unending management. His sharp directions pressing me to clear an affected.
By the time Valen had called it quits for the day, I felt wholly irritated and ready to drop. Tonight, I would sleep like one of the dead.
With the hour late, the halls and passageways Valen escorted me through on our way back to my room were relatively empty. We turned a corner, and a sting upon my arm ignited. Another tasked reap to be acted upon…once the curse was lifted.
An afflicted female, clearly of stature, her styled hair and flowing attire impeccable, drifted toward us with a grace only pure fae…
or a god…could achieve. But the gray of her skin and the glaze of her eyes were undeniable.
Four escorts surrounded her, one on either side of her and two at her back.
“Your Highness.” Valen bowed.
I followed his lead, even as I sneaked a glance at the female, clearly the queen’s daughter.
The curve of the female’s brow and the line of her nose were features she shared with her son Winter.
Her glossy eyes showed no sign of recognition, and her forward motion appeared to pause merely because of the hold of her attendants.
Not waiting for the royal’s acknowledgement, Valen rose and steered me to the side so that the afflicted royal and her party might move past.
But before the party of five could clear the path, Winter’s mother jerked to the side and grabbed hold of my arm. My breath caught in my throat as moving pictures flickered behind my eyes. Images of me leaving the palace, then leaving the citadel, without delay or a single glance back.
The royal pulled her hand away and, wrapping her arms around her waist, continued walking as if the exchange had never taken place. I remained motionless, my back pressed against the wall, as I ogled the queen’s daughter’s retreat.
“Winter’s mother?” I asked when the royal and her entourage were out of hearing range.
Valen simply nodded.
“And the images she projects?”
“When she fell victim to the curse, she stopped talking and now uses what remains of her gift as her way of communication.” He tapped my elbow and continued the course toward my room.
Based on what the female had shown me, I had to assume Winter’s mother wanted me gone. Out from under her roof and outside the citadel walls.
Was that a warning or a threat?
Either way, why would the afflicted royal care? Did something about my presence stir an emotion within her disconnected soul?
I dropped my gaze to my covered arm, to the location I knew the royal’s name had appeared on my skin.
Was Winter’s mother more fearful of death than of her current state? And to connect me with death, did that mean she understood that I was a reaper?
We turned a corner and started climbing a flight of stairs when I asked, “She’s the driving force behind the queen’s desire to find a cure for the afflicted, isn’t she?"
“One of them,” Valen answered, taking the last stair and stepping onto the upper landing. “What did she show you?”
Telling Valen that the royal wanted me gone was not on my list of ideal things to share. I wasn’t sure how he would accept that information and if the admission would work in or against my favor.
Avoiding eye contact, I stared ahead to the guards flanking the door to my new in-palace accommodations.
“I’m not sure I understand the visuals correctly,” I lied, “but I got the sense she was curious about who I was.”
The explanation seemed more believable, in my mind, than telling Valen that Winter’s mother was merely communicating a sweet hello. I didn’t know Valen well, but I was confident he wouldn’t have believed that particular cover story.
Valen merely hummed. "I’m quite certain she would prefer to witness your leave.
Much in the manner the queen requested your coreaper’s departure.
” He quirked his lips. “For the sake of you and your crew, might I recommend you avoid drawing attention to yourself…and them…such as a visit with them at that unsavory establishment …lest Her Majesty might find herself motivated to make more demands.”
I opened my mouth to respond, but Valen raised his hand, silencing me. Then, appearing as tired as I felt, he bid me goodnight and walked away, leaving me in the care of my new room guards. I stared after him even as the guards swung the door to my room open wide for my entrance.
Would I have drawn the wrong kind of attention had I managed to visit with Aldine earlier today as planned?
After Valen disappeared down the stairs without once glancing back in my direction, I murmured thank yous and goodnights to the standing guards and shuffled inside.
I had already shed my jacket and toed off my boots by the time I made my way into the bedroom.
I considered heading straight for the bed and passing out.
Skipping washing my face or trading my day clothes for comfortable sleepwear.
But I’d spent the day touching endless affecteds, attempting reap and cure after reap and cure, leaving an itching sense of filth upon my skin.
My lumbered steps carried me halfway to the bath chamber when a ceaseless tapping on glass redirected my attention to the terrace doors.
On the other side of the double glass doors stood a large crow, knocking with his beak.
A rolled message, clearly carried by the black bird, now rested near his claw.
Fighting against my exhaustion, I double and triple blinked to awaken my senses and then opened the terrace doors, careful not to scare away the feathery beast. As the door slowly swung wide, the bird collected the message, fluttered into the room, and deposited his cargo on the bed.
There he remained with a chirp and an intelligent tilt of his head, his knowing and awaiting watch following my approach.
“Thank you,” I said to the bird, glancing around the room for any leftovers from my breakfast earlier in the day.
But the room had been cleaned, and no signs of the meal remained.
I slipped the message from his side. “Should you return in the morning, I’ll have something yummy for you.”
With a caw, communicating his acceptance, or his possible annoyance, the bird flew from the room.
After closing the terrace doors, I took a seat on the bed and read the delivered message. Expecting the correspondence to be from my father, I was surprised to find otherwise.
Hello Black Bird, the first line read.
My father wouldn’t bother with a nickname or a made-up title. But if not my father, who would be sending me a letter?
I chewed on my lower lip and read the message from start to finish, saving any judgement for the end.
Hello Black Bird,
I heard you were searching for me. I want to assure you I am back, and I am well, and I thank you for your concern. Should you come looking again, I can be found close to where we last stood face-to-face.
My heart fluttered with understanding, and I grabbed at my chest as I continued to read.
I also heard that our beautiful Black Bird has a new gilded perch. I do hope this perch is merely that: a place in which to rest her bones, feast, and not a pretty cage in which she’s become trapped. Send word if the latter stands true.
Can you fly, Black Bird? Because we must meet. For there are things we need to discuss.
Sincerely,
Curse Chaser
I fell back on the bed and pressed the letter to my breast. The message was from Chace. The fact settled firmly, comfortably in my soul. Bled through body and mind like a calming balm. Despite the avoidance of mentioning names, missions, and profession, the sender was obvious…at least to me.
Of course, my options were limited. Aldine wasn’t quite so clever, and Chace was the one who had knowledge about the crow clicker. If he had the device in his possession, that would explain its absence from my belongings collected by Winter’s men.
Hopefully, Chace also had my reaper’s manual.
Chace, saving my hide in the face of the royal servants or guards. Chace, who last I’d heard, was trapped in a dark cell. Chace, who now professed to be free.
And he’d said he was well…or as well as could be, given the fact he was recently a prisoner in someone’s twisted scenario.
Had Aldine found him? Broken him out of his prison?
I huffed a half laugh at his word choices. Curse Chaser? Seriously?
He could chase the curse all he wanted, but I would be the one breaking the darn thing. Badden would be taking a back seat to a Gunn win.
A sleepy smile lifted the edges of my lips.
Black Bird had to be a reference to my name, which wasn’t very covert. He probably needed to take a course in encryption. Of course, if he had written in a more deeply developed code, chances were strong that I would have failed to decipher the intended correspondence.
“Black Bird,” I whispered and smiled.
And he’d called me beautiful.
My smile kicked up several notches, my silly heart somersaulting.
Of course he hadn’t meant it like that.
Still, his message was the lift my spirits needed after a day filled with disappointments.
After grabbing a fountain pen and parchment from the side table, I began to scribble a response.
Thank the merciful gods you are safe. I was worried—
No. Saying such, no less starting my response with those words, sounded too…too…
I crumpled the page and tossed it into the trashcan. I needed to be timely, yes, but not too timely. And I needed to be smart, safe in my reply.
At present, my brain was too exhausted to script a reasonable response.
My body too tired to hold the pen any longer, much less step out onto the terrace to try and catch myself a crow.
Giving myself over to the fragility, I lay back on the bed, closed my eyes, and drifted into sleep, Chace’s message clutched to my chest, and gratitude for his safety swelling within my heart.
I shouldn’t feel such relief with regard to the safety of a Badden, and yet I couldn’t deny the emotion ran true.
For the first time in days, my sleep was deep and peaceful, yet not nearly long enough. The room was still dark when my eyelids eventually…reluctantly…lifted, no sun shining through the glass terrace doors.
And the letter, clutched to my chest…
It was missing.
A clang and clatter in the adjoining room set me sitting upright and jerking into quick motion.
Someone is in my room.
Bad idea. Very bad idea. Moving in on my space without my permission.
I threw the door open wide and dashed into the receiving room, my muscles tense and ready to attack.
Two steps and I froze. Stared at the figure residing in the center of the room.
Winter stood beside the table, a new floral spread commanding the eye, and a tray filled with deliciously aromatic fare, setting my tummy to rumble.
In his hand, he held up a sheet of parchment. My crow-delivered letter, I realized.
He clutched his hand tight, crumpling the page. “This is from him, isn’t it? How did you get it?”