Page 62 of Reaper’s Curse

Winter exploded into action, stalking straight for Valen’s office and workshop.

A thump, a bang, heavy footsteps, and a slam. The sounds of a disquieted individual.

The commotion brought Winter to a pause steps short of the corner. Valen was the most likely noise source. His office and workshop were the only rooms located in the adjoining corridor. Reason might dictate that whatever monster attack Raven had supposedly suffered now had the royal healer agitated.

Utilizing a sliver of his magic, Winter glided around the turn and toward the office with no more rumble than that of a whispering wind. The doors to both Valen’s office and workshop were open and still in motion, the office door slowly swinging back toward a close, and the workshop entrance doing the opposite…the failed locking mechanism having allowed the door to rebound.

The fueled emotion the scene suggested seemed a tad over the top for what the guards had suggested was the situation at hand. Valen definitely had his moments. He could be overbearing and an uncultured cur, but he always kept his emotions in check.

Winter’s chilled wind magic silently swept him into the open space of Valen’s office door. He chanced a peek inside. A mess of unorganized papers cluttered the desk surface, and on the bookshelves, a few folders were yanked forward, left out of order. An open space suggested one or more were missing. Someone had clearly been searching for something and had either been too anxious or in too much of a hurry to tidy up after themselves.

The scene suggested a mystery, and oh how Winter loved mysteries. Mysteries and puzzles. Like Raven. And now, it so may seem, Valen and his newly developed uncharacteristic behavior.

Winter continued into the workshop, silent as a whisper, and found the space surprisingly empty. Yet he knew Valen had stormed into the room only moments ago.

When Winter had come in search of Valen, he had wanted to talk to the royal healer about Raven. Raven’s treatment by the guards. Raven’s supposed exposure to a mysterious monster. But now, so many curiosities reared their heads. He wanted to collect more mysteries before bringing his exploration time to an end with a confrontation.

At the back of the room, a splinter of flickering light shone along the edge of the storage closet door. Clearly the effect of firelight, but in a small closet? Another nonsensical observance.

Winter crossed the room and quietly slid open the door. Within the small closet, a collection of boxes filled with colorful and strange oddities. And between the shelves of boxes, another door, left open to a descending staircase.

Winter bit the edge of his lip to hold his all-too-wide grin from stretching the width of his face. Gods, excitement bloomed in his soul. The situation kept getting better and better.

He stepped toward the second door, when something caught his attention. Nothing more than an unassuming mesh glove, but something about the piece seemed oddly familiar. Sparked a hint of a memory he couldn’t fully grasp and stirred thoughts of Raven.

Why would a glove make him think about Raven?

More delightful mysteries. The thrill in his chest was practically effervescent.

Shoving the glove into his cloak pocket to contemplate later, he slipped through the second doorway and slowly, silently, descended a tunnel of steps. The passage provided no places to hide should Valen decide to come his way, but the ever-flowing tenor of the healer’s speech pegged his location at the base of the stairway.

Winter moved only far enough to bring the male’s lower body into view. He was shifting restlessly, practically pacing. And from the sounds of things, talking to someone. Although any responses were too soft for Winter to comprehend.

“You must know if it is possible. How can you not know?” Valen nearly shouted the question.

He rattled something. Something that sounded like…bars?

A soft response from another, words indecipherable.

“I realize procreation isn’t possible. We’ve pretty much proven that now, haven’t we?” A moment of silence. “In this form, anyway. But what about after a transition?”

Winter slid with his back tight against the wall. Procreation? Transition? What in unholy gods was Valen going on about?

The royal healer expelled a growl of discontent. “Maybe I’ll transition you and run further experiments.”

He spun on his heels and stalked toward the stairwell.

With a minute gasp and no time to waste, Winter called upon his magic and allowed it to whisk him from the space at the speed of a hurricane blast. In a flash, he was out of the stairwell, out of the workshop, and quickly stalking down the corridor in the opposite direction as Valen.

He would be back to investigate the room at the bottom of the stairs. Just not now. Such explorations would have to wait until Valen was otherwise engaged.

The prince returned to his apartment, cognizant of the hour. Not enough time had yet passed for him to strum up worry over Raven…on the surface. But the newly discovered mysteries regarding Valen left an uneasy tremor in his gut with regard to his dark beauty of a guest.

Tossing the glove and Myla’s drawings on the table, he promptly poured himself a stiff drink. Downed the liquid in one long swallow.

The door to his suite swung open and then closed swiftly. Lucas leaned against the wooden surface as if catching his breath.

He pushed away from the door and bowed. “Sire.”