Soul of the Crow: An Epic Dark Fantasy (Reapers of Veltuur Book 1), стр. 68
There is a speck of hope that threatens to burst inside me, but I keep it at bay and run to the nearest shattered mirror. My eyes are closed at first, too afraid to be proven wrong. After all, perhaps the Council just sent me back to complete my original contract? Or maybe this is the place the Wraiths take you to do their torture, a twisted version of my greatest nightmares.
But that can’t be it. I have no crow, and I feel different here. The energy inside me is…lighter.
Finally, I bring myself to open my eyes, and they stare back at my older, but still young face. I don’t think I have looked at myself in three years. My once round and childlike features have sharpened, becoming the defining marks of young womanhood. There is something in my eyes that seems heavier, and my hair has darkened.
But it is my forehead that I am drawn to and I nearly gasp at the sight.
Runes, a shade between lilac and thistle, are prominent in the space below my hairline. I blink, expecting them to be a dream, but each time I reopen my eyes, they remain. Still unconvinced, I reach up to touch them, just in case, but that is when I really gasp.
At first glance, my hands are so thoroughly covered that they appear to be dipped in purple ink from fingertip to wrist. I flip them around in front of my widening eyes to find they’re not solid purple, but adorned in intricate lace, spirals, and feathers, just like Rhet, just like the healer, and just like Aulow.
My thoughts ache to figure out why we would all share markings that I have never seen before. Since Rhet and Aulow were Guardians, I had just assumed that that’s how they had earned the runes on their hands. But if I have them too…
It does not take me long to venture a guess.
These runes can only mean one thing because only one thing has happened to me since I became a Reaper: I un-became a Reaper. The runes on Rhet’s hands, the runes on the healer’s and Aulow’s hands, they are the marking of someone who is no longer a Reaper.
The waterfall of questions pours through my thoughts and makes me regret ever leaving the encampment, but so does something else. Acari. I trace a finger over one of my hands and realize that this is the sign I was looking for earlier, the verification that I have saved Gem.
And Acari does not know.
A lump forms in my throat. If I don’t find him soon, he is going to make the biggest mistake of his life. But without knowing where he is, running all over the kingdom in search of him would take more time than I have. I have to meet him where he is going. I need to find his father before he does.
Without another thought, I race down the dilapidated staircase and out of the vacant orphanage, rushing toward the palace to find the king. I remember these streets like I used to, back when I was a child who would play in them every day. The palace is far, but I know the shortcuts.
By the time I am at the fortified walls, my lungs are burning. I hunch over my knees, catching my breath while I try to figure out how I am going to get inside without a confrontation.
“Welcome, lords and ladies,” one of the guards shouts in greeting, drawing me up from my stoop, just in time to watch the large ensemble of people step through the gates. They’re covered in feathers and flowers, carrying baskets and chalices of all types of offerings, from berries to gold to handwoven bracelets.
Though I was never given a royal invitation to the festivities that occur at the palace during the Festival of Wings, I recognize the outfits and offerings nonetheless. As a girl, the other orphans and I would leave the parade early to climb to the highest rooftops in the city to be able to glimpse inside the palace walls. Of course, we were never able to see a thing.
“Right this way,” the guard says with a friendly nod. “We are honored by your presence. The king will be with you all shortly. Please, make your way through Dove Plaza and to Quetzal Wing where you’ll find the great hall. Welcome, lords and ladies…”
While the guard repeats his instructions for the next batch of nobles he encounters, I slip in among the traveling party. Only the person beside me seems to notice, and though she stares at me with apprehension, eyeing my red tunic, I quickly pacify her with a giddy smile—something I forgot I even knew how to do. But to be honest, what surprises me more is that she actually smiles back. I was never shown such warmth from a mortal as a Reaper, and I suppose it will just take time to adjust to people who don’t flinch in my presence.
Once inside, I tear myself away from the wandering crowd and start my search. Surely, there is a clue somewhere as to the whereabouts of the king. I suppose I really could have just followed the lords and ladies, as the guard did say the king would be with them shortly, however, something tells me that Acari will try to kill his father when they are alone, not in front of an audience.
As I amble through the halls, my stomach guides me toward the aroma of food. The banquet hall table is loaded with steaming plates of grilled boar, baked