Soul of the Crow: An Epic Dark Fantasy (Reapers of Veltuur Book 1), стр. 20

“What are you doing? Step forward if you are so curious,” his voice thunders.

I dare not disobey a direct order from the king, let alone my father, and so I take a timid step into the open, leaving Gem behind with a cautionary glare.

“Our future king.” My father blows out a caustic breath. “What a disgrace. Hiding in the shadows like some thief.”

I stiffen at his choice of words because he’s right and I don’t think he knows it yet. I am a thief. I’m stealing his daughter away from him. I guess in a way I’m stealing his last remaining heir too.

Despite straightening and trying to appear the nobleman he wishes me to be, I tremble in the open archway, nothing to hide behind beside my own cowardice. Although I had wanted to see a Reaper, I didn’t want it to see me too. Call it superstition, but I have the dreadful suspicion that if I lay eyes on it—on her—I will lose my soul for trying to steal Gem away from her.

“Curse you, son,” my father says, managing to make our relation sound vile. “If the Divine Lorik could see you…”

My father has no idea how right he is. The Divine Lorik, the embodiment of bravery, would never run away like I am. He would face his battles head on, maybe even challenge the Reaper outright. But thank the Altúyur that I don’t carry his name, and so I don’t really feel the need to be brave.

However, I can hardly stand any more public scorn. Especially not in front of Gem. She needs to be able to trust that I am strong enough to protect her, no matter what.

My bones shift slowly, cautiously, as I will my trembling bones to stiffen. I clasp my hands behind my back in our standard, respectful greeting, grateful that no one can see my fingers turning blue from my constricting grip.

Stubborn and terrified, my head lifts, meeting the gaze of the Reaper.

I’m surprised not to find the fiery red eyes of a demon. Instead, hers are gray, the irises of a normal human girl. Instead of having a curved beak, sharpened to a point, she has a thin and pointed nose. The Reapers claws have been replaced by normal, white-tipped fingernails that, although jagged and unclean like the savage bandits that dwell in the forest, otherwise seem harmless.

The only resemblance I can find between her and the depictions I’ve seen is that she is accompanied by a crow, black as ink, perched on her shoulder.

“Y—you’re a Reaper.”

She cocks an eyebrow and addresses my father. “You sure it’s the other heir you’ve hired me for?”

I swallow air that goes down like dust when my father doesn’t object.

“Do you wish to come with us?” he asks, taking a step toward the entryway I’m standing in.

It’s then that I realize just how big of a mistake I’ve made. There are two exits from this hall that would lead to Gem’s tower: the one that Gem and I were hiding at, and the one my father seemed to be headed toward. Only, now that I’ve drawn his attention, he seems to be shifting his course.

I glance at Gem who has plopped herself on the floor and is gnawing on a chunk of her tangled hair.

They can’t go that way. If they do, they’ll see her for certain.

I leap inside the hall.

“Why don’t we…” I draw the syllable out, thinking for an excuse, an idea, anything that might lead them out another exit. My throat grows hoarse and I extend an arm, pointing at the other exit in this room, the one that leads to the southern side of the palace, back to Macaw Wing where most of the servants reside and Dove Plaza, by far one of the most exquisite places in the entire palace. “We should walk through the guardians in—I mean the gardens in Dove Plaza.”

I’m about to break off into senseless ramblings about how drab the corridor behind me is and how a Reaper would likely rather have some fresh air. I’m about to tell her that her crow will be happier too, going the way that allows it to stretch its wings and soar.

But I don’t get to open my mouth for another syllable, because behind me, I hear the pitter-patter of tiny bare feet, and the excitable gasp of my sister shriek the word, “Gardenens!”

The three of us turn around as quickly as spring shifts to summer.

I watch my father as he deciphers what Gem’s presence means. He swivels his scornful gaze back to me. “You would commit treason against the crown? Against your own father!”

I jump in front of him, my hands splayed. “What if there’s another way? If we can just find a Guardian, maybe they can fix her—”

“A Guardian?” he barks, his eyes swiveling inside his skull, likely drafting out the verbal lashings I am about to receive.

But it isn’t him who speaks.

The cry of the crow draws silence. It seems to confirm that it has spotted the Reaper’s target because she strides forward, a viper focused on her kill; on my sister.

“It’s too late,” the Reaper says, each word deadly. “Once a request is sent, she belongs to us.”

I’m not breathing.

Actually, yes, I am. I’m just breathing way too fast to be able to tell one breathe apart from another.

Black, tarry liquid wraps around the Reaper’s hands like ballroom gloves, only if ballroom gloves were made of poison. Smoke wafts, ever so slightly from her fingertips, and although I’ve never seen a Reaper, let alone witnessed their power, I know what will happen if that substance touches Gem.

I don’t think. I just lunge. And it’s the most reckless and impulsive thing I’ve ever done.

The crow lets out a warning call, but it’s too late for the Reaper to react. I barrel into her stomach with my shoulder, and the two of us stumble