Page 135 of Reaper's Quest

The sight of it lightened the weight in my chest. He wrapped his arm around me and held me at his side, preventing my knees from buckling and my body from dropping to the floor.

He glanced at the awaiting guards. “I’ll be bringing a guest with me.”

“As you command.” Both guards bowed, and Winter led us from the room.

The two uniformed men waiting in the hall pivoted and walked in front of us, and the two guardsmen from the bedroom fell in line at our backs. As a unit, the four escorted Prince Winter…and his guest, me…down the stairs, through the pub, and out the door to the carriage parked in front of the building.

The carriage where Valen waited.

A footman opened the carriage door and held it ajar.When I lifted my hand, Winter ushered me in first before climbing into the coach himself.

I slid into the seat across from a stern-looking male. Valen, I presumed. He had his black hair pulled back taut, and his dark attire leaned toward the theatrical.

Granting him a mild smile, I slipped my hands under my thighs to warm my frozen fingers and hide their blueness from the stranger. I should have grabbed a pair of gloves before setting off on the small adventure to the palace. Too late now.

Winter settled into the seat at my side, and not a second later, the coach door closed.

As the carriage lurched into action, the stern male cleared his throat and visually examined Winter up and down. “You look better than I expected, Prince. And who, pray tell, have you brought with you?”

“Raven here is a friend,” Winter replied.

I nodded and rocked forward and back in my seat. The action generated little warmth, but it served to keep my drained sensesslightlysharper.

Valen merely raised an eyebrow. “Where did you find this one? Rolling around in a sewer somewhere?”

“Manners, Valen,” Winter reprimanded.

Self-conscious, and temporarily forgetting my desire to hide my hands, I brushed my fingers through my wet and tangled locks. Sweat and filth from the tunnels clung to my skin and clothes. Water from my attempted drowning had rearranged my hair. More sweat from relocating Winter’s soul dappled my brow and topped off my appearance.

Reaper’s hell.

I headed to the palace looking an awful mess.

“I do so hope she is not aspecialfriend,” Valen said. “You know how the queen feels about such relationships.”

“I should have you horsewhipped for talking about my guest in such a fashion.” Winter’s eyes sparked with an intensity I had not seen in him before. He wrapped an arm around my shoulders and tugged me into his side. “It’s because of this extraordinary lady that I’m the healed male you see before you.”

“Interesting. I heard you had been afflicted.” Valen leaned forward and swept a second scrutinizing gaze over me, this time with a hint more interest. “And how did you cure him from such a state?”

“Easy there.” Winter waved Valen back in his seat. “You may fire your questions at her after she has had a chance to clean up, rest, and meet Grandmother.”

Valen frowned then shrugged and settled back in his seat. “Very well.”

We made the rest of the carriage ride to the castle in relative silence and shop talk as Valen examined Winter, taking his vitals and asking questions pertaining to his health.

I worried my lower lip. When my father had suggested I seek out Valen, I had assumed that Valen had once been a reaper. Because once a reaper, always a reaper…except maybe when trapped in a place where reaping didn’t work.

My father had suggested Valen might be able to help Aldine. Only Aldine was apparently now well, so did I need Valen’s help? Did he need to know who and what I was?

I supposed I didn’t need to decide just yet whether to open up to Valen or not. We still had the rest of the ride for me to settle upon a course. And, if he were once a reaper, helikely already knew the truth. Realized it the moment he laid eyes upon me and my reaper-esque features.

We passed through multiple magical barriers between the outer palace gates and the main structure, and the electric hum of each invisible wall vibrated through me. Gaining access to the royal residence presented a minefield without an invitation or some kind of pass: card, key, whatever.

The carriage deposited us at a side entrance rather than the main grand one situated at the front, and before heading inside, Winter sent a messenger with word to the necessary parties, whoever they were.

“Raven.” Winter motioned a uniformed woman forward. He glanced at her name tag. “Tara here will be your lady’s maid. She’ll show you where you may clean up and rest. We’ll meet up in roughly an hour’s time.”

I don’t need a maid, lady’s or otherwise.