Page 147 of Reaper’s Curse

“Chiara Badden is dead,” Valen continued. “They brought me her body.”

Somebody is dead? Winter’s muscles stiffened.

The queen tapped her fingers on the throne’s chair arm. “And you consider this good news?”

“Well…I…” Valen stumbled for words.

Winter shifted his weight, a muscle in his jaw pulsating.

The answer is no, Valen. Things are not good. Not good at all.

The queen stretched her neck, raising her chin higher. “Where did the girl even get the idea that the specters were the key to our citadel’s situation? Hmm? We both know they were never an issue, nor my goal.”

Despite the nature of the information being exchanged, the queen held herself as if she were discussing which tea to include with her morning meal.

How did she remain so removed? Someone is dead. And Raven is missing.

“And what of my grandson?” Her gaze shifted to Winter, but it was not him of whom she asked.

He’d learned plenty of curious things over the course of the night, and the fact was clear―the Crown kept far too many secrets from the potential heir…or spare, as he was. One such secret being the known state of his missing brother, August. Winter’s blood froze at the mere thought of all the lies, spoken or not.

“Nothing yet, but we are still looking. Just as we are searching for Ms. Gunn.”

“And the boy?” The boy being Chace. The queen clasped her hands, weaved her fingers. “Mr. Badden, is it?”

Winter’s eyes widened. Chace’s last name was Badden. Just as the dead woman’s name was Badden. Were they related?

“Nothing on that front as of yet,” Valen replied.

His grandmother exhaled loudly. “Do you have anything of any interest to report?”

Valen’s shoulders stiffened. “Is not the end of the specters of interest? You can now safely remove the barriers on Veritas and the magical hold on her citizens. Life within the citadel may start improving starting today.”

“You know that not to be true, and I will do no such thing.” She slammed the base of her scepter onto the dais floor. “Ask no more.”

Winter’s jaw clenched. He could listen to no more. He turned and strode from the room. Stepped into the outer hall where his family awaited.

“Walk with me,” he said without sparing them a glance.

He knew they would follow, and when they were beyond the range of prying eyes and listening ears, only then would he free his words.

He led them through countless passages, sitting rooms, and staircases to a far-removed terrace overlooking the citadel. The morning was young and the people silent, sleeping off the revelry of the night prior.

He dropped his palms upon the rail and slid them wide. Closing his eyes, he listened to the whispers of the wind. All was quiet.

“Anything yet?” he asked of the child behind him.

Myla stepped to his right. “Nothing yet, but I do not believe she is dead. She’s out there…somewhere.”

She had to be, for she was the hope of the afflicted. She had, after all, cured Earl and Myla. Had Raven realized she was curing Myla that day in the pub? It didn’t matter. His niece had returned to him.

“We’ll find her,” Lucas placated, to which Camilla agreed and said, “I sensed she was intended to help our people, and maybe what I felt has already come to pass. But still, I do not believe this is the end of her story.”

No. Winter had to agree it was not.

“Chace will find her,” Kira added. “He’ll stop at nothing to find her.”

Winter grunted, unsure how he felt about the reason behind Chace’s dedication. But the guards’ active hunt for him would hamper Chace’s search efforts―limiting his options and freedoms.