Page 24 of Reaper’s Curse

Faith. I would hold faith that my letter to Raven would reach the intended destination, the intended recipient.

Bam!

I spun toward the sound of the pub’s heavy metal back door slamming to a close. Winter stood in the back alley, staring at me. A too-bright aura of misty white and icicle blue surrounded the intrusive prince. The sight sent a jolt of searing pain straight to my skull.

“What are you doing out here?” Winter’s gaze raked over me. Likely looking for hints of a bad habit or something worse, whatever the prince suspected had brought me to the back alley alone.

Only I could hardly think past the returning pounding in my head, or the rainbow of colors assaulting my vision, to entertain the prick’s delicate ego.

I blinked against the glaring gleam, pressed the heel of my palm firmly to my temple, and opened my mouth to speak. “Are you⁠—”

Following me, I meant to say, but my words cut off mid-sentence with the sway of my body and instant clouding of my brain.

My arm shot out, seeking support against the nearest wall. A wall that felt too unstable beneath my touch. Everything around me spun in on itself, compressing into nonexistence.

In the blur of the vanishing world, I spied the foggy image of Winter rushing forward. The landscape tilted, and before I could suck back a life-sustaining breath, my face slammed to the earth.

A hand grabbed my shoulder, and a shout, one not of my own, echoed in the alleyway.

Minutes that could pass for hours, or hours that might have been seconds, swam in the spaces surrounding me. A slight sense of movement, my body being lifted and relocated, lingered in the recesses of my faculties.

My existence was black, and blurry, and black for longer still.

I awoke, barely, to a summoning whisper trapped not in my head but somewhere in the room with me.

Awaken, it said. Stop stalling and awake.

With a groan, I peeled my eyelids open, tearing against the crust that fought to keep my eyes closed. My pupils dilated, adjusting to the darkened place. Although new to me, the room where I lay looked familiar. The underground expanse beneath the pub. Aoes’s spy space where I’d spent the last night.

“I’m surprised you shared this place with him.” Winter’s muffled voice came from the outer hall.

Stretched flat on the sofa, I twisted in my spot, gazed through the open doorway, and studied the shadow play on the floor and wall by the drunkard cell in the next room.

“I didn’t,” Aoes replied, his voice low. “I don’t know how he knew or found this place. But…under the circumstances, this would seem like the place for him to recuperate.”

“Because of whoever abducted him?” Winter asked.

“That, and because the queen told him to get out of the citadel.”

“I’ll talk to her,” Winter said simply.

The sound of two pairs of running feet raced across the ceiling. The twins moving through the pub above, I wagered.

Aoes laughed. “We should see to Camilla and the girls.”

“What about him?” Winter asked, a jabbed point evident in their cast shadows.

“Let him rest. Hopefully recover. I’ll check on him later.” Aoes led Winter out the side exit, the door locking behind them, and leaving me alone in the shadows of the windowless room.

What had gone wrong?

Besides my missing meds, the lingering physical distress from my days of torture, and the mounting mental and emotional strain of Aldine’s death?

Should I consider what my sperm donor―Ubel―would do in a similar situation? Did I care? From all that I had learned, remembered, I was confident Ubel was the type of ally I’d never want in my corner. Of course, I was uncertain about a whole hell of a lot lately, though.

Closing my eyes, I heaved a breath and squeezed my forehead between my thumb and forefinger. Rubbed.

If only I had my meds, my head…my thoughts…would be clearer.