33. Raven #2
“You do know that everyone’s magic is tied up by the queen in an attempt to balance what you did with the specters.”
She snorted, as if to imply that something I said was funny.
Ignoring her response, I drove forward. “Why the specters, Chiara? What are you getting out of this?”
It was a question I really wanted answered, because even though I, myself, had become invested in the lives of some of those in the citadel, I didn’t believe for a moment that I could condemn so many others to save one, as Chiara had apparently done.
Unless that one is Chace.
I snagged and strangled that intrusive thought, tossed it from my mind. Now was neither the time nor the place to entertain a change in my moral code.
Chiara uncrossed her legs and leaned forward, bracing her forearms on her thighs. “To be honest, little reaper…”
I bristled. I was not little.
“I don’t even know anymore. The magic has worn off, and I’m rather over it. I wouldn’t mind if this whole thing were finished.”
My mouth popped open. I hadn’t expected such candor, and I definitely hadn’t expected an answer like that one.
If Chiara wanted to be done with whatever this was that she’d been living for the past century, then maybe… “Is that why you were with the queen earlier?”
Chiara raised an eyebrow.
“I saw you moving through the halls with the royal guard.”
“Ahh.” With a grimace, she dipped and shook her head. “No. That was me making good on my agreement with the Crown. Every year on August’s birthday, the family gets an evening with him. From sundown until the start of the new day.”
Midnight. That explained the strange timing of the royal family’s appearance at the gala.
Reaping hell.
The queen knew a lot more than she was sharing. And yet…
Chiara must have seen the question in my eyes because she continued.
“In his current state, Prince August is a creature of lust and obsession. Not a combination the Crown wants associated with the royal family. I’ve been in charge of keeping him under control and at a distance, while also keeping him close enough, should he be needed. ”
“You, a reaper, are in charge of the heir to the throne?”
“It wasn’t by choice.”
The snap in her response told me she was far from happy about that lack of choice…or maybe her despondency had to do with Prince August and his so-called current state.
“Anyway.” She flipped her hand. “You’ve met all the players in this game now, haven’t you?”
Startled by the new direction in the conversation, I didn’t respond, but I knew. I knew about Valen, the queen, maybe the queen’s daughter, and the Killian. I wasn’t positive if he was a player, or just trapped here, but I included him all the same. Was I missing anyone?
Chiara leaned back in her seat. “I understand your team has brought more than just another doomed-to-fail reaper team. Your arrival marks the start of change, and with what I now know, I’m willing to step aside or step down. So, tell me, how do you suggest we put an end to this cursed game?”
I wasn’t sure what she meant about my reaper team, but what was taking place in the citadel was no game. People’s lives were being seriously affected.
“Undo whatever magic you used to call the specters to this city, for starters.”
Chiara nodded as if in thought. “Yes. I suppose that would be your focus. But…” Her gaze narrowed on me. “Has he made contact yet?”
The question stirred a murky memory. When I had run into Chiara in the underground tunnels, hadn’t she said something about someone coming for me?
“The Killian?” I blurted.
Chiara burst out laughing. “The Killian. That’s rich.” She tapped the soles of her boots on the stone floor. “That poor bloke has been here as long as I have, and he isn’t getting any reaping action. He must be so bored.”
She tipped her head and hummed. “I guess that occasional warm body in his bed has helped fill the void. But even that gets old after a while when both hearts are not fully committed.”
My head jerked back. I didn’t need to know that much about the Killian… And what action was she getting to stave off boredom?
But…aside from the gross image she had painted in my head of the Killian, he seemed to be getting a bit of reaper action and then some since my team had shown up.
“He came after me. Is coming after me.”
“Is that so?” She said the words like she doubted my statement, then tilted her head and swept a scrutinizing gaze over me.
I fisted my hands, buried them in my armpits. “Yes. He said I need to die.”
“Are you sure? Were those his exact words?”
I bit my lower lip. I didn’t know if those were his exact words, but his message was clear.
Chiara sighed. “The Killian has been after Valen forever. At first, Valen hid in the castle, created some grand ward to keep the reapers’ reaper out.
He made a valiant effort where magic is concerned.
Experienced fair successes and delicious setbacks…
or magical backlashes.” She raised her arms wide, indicating the space around us.
“Hence the reason he can’t step foot into this lovely tower. ”
“He can’t enter this place because of something he did…wrong?” I clarified.
Chiara bore a wicked grin. “Maybe. I’m not really in the know on that one. But it’s either because of something he did wrong, or something someone else did all too right.”
Uh-huh.
“But…” Chiara continued. “In more recent years, he has gotten more inventive. He now has some kind of amulet or something that makes him invisible to the Killian. Pretty ingenious if you ask me. Although he still rarely, if ever, leaves the palace.”
Clearly Valen had also left out a few crucial details.
I frowned. “I know about the wards around the castle. It’s part of the reason I’ve been staying inside the palace walls until we figure out this issue between me and the Killian.”
Chiara hummed. “The palace, yes. The ground underneath, not so much.” She smirked at the instant concern ruling my expression. “A true magic wielder can protect the space upward into the sky and down through the ground. Valen isn’t so good.”
My heart fluttered, and I swung my gaze around the chamber once more. Was I safe in this place? I had to be, because the reason I was here was too important.
I schooled my features.
“If you’re truly done with it”―I added air quotes to my delivery―“as you say you are, why don’t you help me undo whatever spell ties the specters to the citadel?”
Chiara slid one foot across the floor and pointed her toe towards the symbol drawn upon the ground. “It’s right there if you wish to destroy it. But you should consider what that would mean.”
She swept her arm out in an arc, directing my gaze to the shadowed tunnel entrance. A form I couldn’t quite make out huddled in the darkness. The longer I stared, the more the form took on the shape of a male slumped in a chair.
“Without the specters,” she said, “things will get seriously hot around here. You can thank Prince August over there for that. He just might become forever lost.”
I jerked and pointed to the crumpled figure. “That’s Winter’s brother? The twins’ father?”
Camilla’s love, right there, within reach. I inched around the chamber, moving closer to August’s crumpled form and placing Chiara at my back. Not the wisest of moves, but I needed to see August for myself. Needed proof of his state.
He didn’t look anything like lust and obsession personified but rather resembled a large sack of grain.
“Do you hear what I’m saying, Raven?” Chiara’s boots scuffed across the ground, followed by the sound of her rising to her feet. “Forever lost. And I do not mean forever in the way you think. The two gloves have already been reunited.”
Mention of the gloves, not one but two, tugged at some sense of importance, only I was too wrapped up in the royal slumped in the shadows. He was far too thin, yet he was a sun-fire version of Winter. I couldn’t deny the family resemblance.
A scrape of stone came from somewhere in the darkened tunnel, beyond August’s location. I took a step back into the chamber as I strained to see what hid in the shadows. The cloaked figure dropped his hood and made no effort to hide.
The Killian glided forward, brimming with confidence, a smug grin on his face. “Time for the reaper to die, little one.”
First Chiara, now him. What is with their demeaning descriptors?
“Damon,” Chiara shouted. “This is not the way.”
Damon?
“It is the only way.”
Chiara motioned for me to retreat farther away. Maybe I should, but it didn’t seem right, leaving my fight to be carried by another. Besides, I had already stood against the Killian once, and I was still standing.
“You’re wrong,” she retorted, inching into the space between me and the reapers’ reaper. “We can find another way.”
“We don’t have time. He’s already set his sights on her,” he sneered, then whipped a scythe from his back and rushed at me.
Reaping hell. I was going to be sliced in half. I hadn’t brought my scythe, unable to appropriately blend or hide the reaper’s tool with the gown I wore. Heck, I wasn’t even wearing shoes for solid purchase.
The Killian shoved Chiara aside and dashed into my space, his reaper’s tool raised high and swinging downward. Aimed right for me.
Chiara slammed into me, knocking me sideways. I crashed to the ground, skinning the palms of my hands on the rough stone.