2. Raven
“Forfeit?” I jerked back, allowing an extra foot of distance between myself and Valen. “What will the queen do if I don’t deliver? Have me executed?”
I blinked hard and sucked the newly pooled blood from my fingers. An action meant to hold me from pressing my hand against the building pressure in my chest. Or from throttling Valen.
With a mere shrug and an expression of disinterest, he rolled the parchment into his solid grasp. “I suppose she could if she so desired. She is the queen, after all.”
The queen, with her own life to lose, I thought. Or so she professed.
“But…” Valen rolled the word off his tongue, long and slow. “From my experience, she would more likely shackle you to servitude. Possibly pair you with me to work at the citadel’s current predicament until it’s solved.”
“Is that what she has done to you? Shackled you to servitude?”
He didn’t respond. And he showed no sign of intending to do so.
Deciding not to push, I rubbed my fingers and then waved my hand in an attempt to return the blood flow…and the beat of my heart in my tips…to normal. “Servitude or not, I thought that was what I was doing; working to solve your problem.”
“Indeed.” He slipped the marked parchment into the interior of his jacket and strode toward the door. “So, you should probably get to it rather quickly.”
Trying to remember that my ire was directed at the queen and not her messenger, I considered asking him how he knew my father…if he too had once been a reaper, as I suspected. One who got trapped here by the curse.
But the royal advisor stepped forward and shoved the second rolled parchment in my face, pulling all of my attention.
“Your copy,” he said. “The terms of the agreement are documented here so that you may at any time review the expectations.”
“That reminds me.” With an upward pointed finger striking the air, Valen spun back to face me. “The queen would prefer to keep your arrangement a private matter.”
Hence, avoid the servants because servants and staff talk.
I dipped my head in a nod of understanding, temporarily hiding the burning glare I’d been shifting back and forth between the two men. The glare that went hand in hand with my building irritation.
Rash and stupid of me to concede to any deals with the queen without thorough thought of the consequence.
“Remember all the terms,” Valen demanded. “And recommended courses of action as requested by Her Royal Majesty the queen with regard to our crown prince.”
I frowned at the attempted triple press of importance; royal, majesty, queen. As if any status superseded death.
Not that I was death itself. No, I was no death deity, but I acted on their behalf.
Yet…that was not the important part of the message. The importance hung over my expected behavior regarding Winter.
Discourage his interest. Put distance between you. Basically, put an end to any fraternizing whatsoever.
After he had saved my life and I had saved his back.
I pressed my lips into a tight line. “You don’t need to remind me. The queen made her conditions perfectly clear.”
The queen was asking me to be a horrible person, and I despised the request, but I would honor it…somehow.
How to do so without hurting Winter, I didn’t have a clue.
Valen’s eyes flashed as an arrogant smirk tugged at his lips. “And your friends,” he added with a measured tone. “The others in your party. They are not to know about the arrangement you have with the queen.”
His intense stare dared me to refute. Instead, I decided to take a different approach.
“Of my friends, one is only newly returned to health, and I wouldn’t want to risk a relapse.” I bit the inside of my lip and contemplated Aldine’s possible condition.
Valen arched a brow. “Wise, I think.”
A soft huff rose in my throat. “The other member of my team… I’ve been told he is locked up in some underground cell somewhere. You wouldn’t happen to have any idea where I could find him, would you?”
“Locked up?” The royal healer jolted straight. “In a cell? Underground?”
“Well, that sounds concerning.” The portly advisor pressed a finger to his lower lip.
“I know of no underground cells, and I hate to contemplate their existence. Although…” He tilted his head into his shoulder and scratched the back of his large, rounded ear.
“Such things would seem possible in a city as old as this one.”
“Indeed,” Valen agreed with a thoughtful nod, then he looked down his slightly crooked nose at me. “But are you not referring to the one our queen demanded leave the citadel? Are you sure he didn’t simply do as was ordered?”
Our queen? My thoughts simmered. She is your queen. Not mine.
And as much of a jerk as Chace could be, I didn’t believe for one death god moment that he would wordlessly depart.
The door behind Valen swung open, and a young lady dressed in common royal servant attire stepped into the room. She startled at our gathering with a soft gasp and a hand to her lips.
She tipped her head. Began backing from the room. “So sorry.”
“It’s fine.” The advisor waved her forward. “We were just leaving. Weren’t we?”
Turning toward the exit, he shifted his gaze to Valen for validation.
“That we were.”
The two males turned and exited the room. Leaving the young servant the only thing standing between me and the open door.
The servant warily watched the two withdraw, then she met my gaze. A slight tremor raced over her features as if she could sense the truth of my nature.
Reaper. Death collector. Servant to the underworld.
A rather tired servant to the underworld. I rubbed a tiny circle to the space beside my eye. I’d been dragging for…pretty much…the entire day, and my body ached something awful.
“If you would,” the servant girl said with a slight bow.
The show of respect tore a snort from me.
She clenched her hands together. “I have come to show you to your room.”
I double blinked, my shoulders relaxing. “My room?”
“Y-yes. I…” she stammered. “You are to stay, as the queen’s guest, here in the palace. Are you not?”
My eyebrows arched. I supposed the queen could interpret part of the agreement as me moving into the palace…
for the time being. So doing would make matters easier for her to keep abreast of my movements.
The closeness would also simplify my access to the royal records, while at the same time make connecting with Aldine and Chace all the more difficult.
I clenched my teeth, silencing any thoughtless response.
The royal prince, Winter, breezed into the room, moving with ease past the servant and heading straight for me.
His snow-favored skin made him a tall vision of sculptured alabaster, blessed with hair of spun pearl.
His sky-blue eyes were sharp, and his strong shoulders and chest hinted at a royal who spent a fair amount of time engaged in physical activities.
He flashed me a gentle smile that instantly eased a fraction of my tension.
Since I had arrived in the Citadel of Veritas, Winter had played the part of my white knight; bringing laughter into my otherwise bleak days, saving me from afflicting specters, tending to my trigger-happy-palace-guard inflicted wounds, and providing me this opportunity to find success in my tasked reap.
“You can go,” he said to the servant girl, barely sparing her a glance. “I’ve got this.”
“Of course, Your Highness.” The servant bowed low, far lower than she had for me, and without a glance in her direction, he gave a wave of dismissal, excusing her from his presence.
She scurried from the room, right past Valen, who lingered in the hall.
The royal healer extracted the scroll from his jacket and waved the agreement, reminding me of what the queen expected of me where the prince was concerned. I merely narrowed a glare in his direction rather than chance a spoken retort.
Winter, with his back to the doorway, was none the wiser as he took my palm in his own and placed a gentle kiss upon the back of my hand. The unadulterated joy in his expression could have set a thousand or more souls ablaze. His eyes shone like opals and gems of clear cobalt.
All his physical attributes were a yin to my yang. Totally opposite and totally enthralling.
I couldn’t recall the last time I’d set my gaze on anything more stunning. Had I ever?
An image of Chace flared at the back of my mind. A memory of him standing before me, bare-chested and damp from a bath. Or his lips wrapped around my finger. I shook the imagery away, even as I sucked back a large breath to center myself.
Coreaper, I reminded myself.
Winter, on the other hand, was a living work of art, and I wanted to grab hold of the emotional beauty his face beheld…everything it represented…and never let it go.
Instead, I set a crooked grin on my lips. “And why are you in such high spirits?”
His smile brightened in a way that defied nature. “I am told you’ll be staying with us. Here, in my very home.”
I fought the sigh threatening to seize my chest. Winter’s joy over my new accommodations could be enough to reverse the queen’s thoughts on the subject. The proximity would make the task of pushing, and keeping, the prince away far more difficult. A thought I filed away for later potential use.
“And…” Winter continued. “I don’t care to brag, but I have arranged for some princess-worthy accommodations.”
I took a slight step back, shaking my head and slipping my hands from his grip. “You didn’t need to do that.”
What I really wanted to say was that I shouldn’t be lodging so far from the rest of my team. But the queen’s thoughts about my coreapers were perfectly clear, and they would not be invited to stay under the palace roof.
Winter recaptured my fingers and raised our intertwined hands to his heart. “Grandmother says you are to stay at the castle. That you’ll be working with Valen. He is to be your palace liaison. And I have seen to it that your rooms are situated to handle all your anticipated needs.”
Rooms. Not room, but rooms.