The Reaper

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Carissa forced a laugh. "Kill the–the... Ryther, you shouldn't say such things."

"So it's true?"

"True? Ryther, what kind of nonsense are you spinning?"

"The nonsense Tian told me."

"Oh." A second nervous laugh skittered past her throat. Was she laughing too much? "Didn't you hear what I told Tian? Mera didn't know what she was talking about."

"Tian seemed to think she did."

Carissa slid her gaze toward Ryther. Was it possible that she could convince him that she jested? "And you think that this is true? Two lone women are aiming to topple the Reaper King?"

"Given the skill that you used to fight those yare wolves and then block my blade, I have no doubt." Ryther's dark eyes pierced hers, and she refocused her gaze on Mera's back.

What else could she say? What else was there to say? It was unlikely she could convince him at this point. Perhaps speaking truth was her only option. "Why haven't you turned us in yet if you think we have both the intentions and the capabilities?"

"Perhaps because I think I can help."

The healer's house came into view, and Mera guided the girl within. Before Ryther could enter, Carissa slapped her palm to the door.

"And why would I let you? You're obviously some sort of wealthy noble, and you're likely invested in keeping that wealth, which means remaining on good terms with the Reaper King."

"Because I know something about the Reaper King that you don't."

"And what's that?"

Ryther drew in a slow breath. "The Reaper King has a weakness. But exploiting it will cost someone's life."

Perfect. Then she could join Elon in Second Life. Carissa felt her lips tug into a smile. "I'm listening."

"You seem far too excited about this given the macabre nature of what I just said."

Carissa folded her arms and propped her hip against the door. "Do you have useful information or not?"

Ryther tipped his head toward the door. "Let's go inside and finish this discussion."

Carissa narrowed her eyes. "You're not trying to delay this, are you? You truly know his weakness?"

Ryther's gaze darted behind her. "M'lady—"

"What do we have here?"

Carissa spun around. A darkly cloaked figure loomed over her, but even beneath the shadow of his hood, she caught the glimmer of his red eyes. A Reaper. His ghostly white hand was the only part visible, clenching his Scythe.

A scene played out before her: Reapers flowing toward them like a river that refused to be stemmed. Haunting blood-colored eyes over her. The flash of a descending Scythe. Her own screams echoing in her ears.

If she were cut with Esmerian steel, would the ring still be able to heal her? She lifted her chin, hoping the Reaper didn't notice how her fluttering pulse made her tremble. "Have we done something wrong?"

Ryther slipped between her and the Reaper. "We don't mean to stir up any trouble. Now if you'll excuse us."

The Reaper's eyes thinned, displaying only a narrow strip of red. "Your face is familiar to me. Have you been to the capital city before?"

Carissa glanced at Ryther, wishing she could see his expression. Could he be in trouble with the Reapers? Perhaps he was some sort of Reaper slayer. In that case, she could use his help after all...

Ryther nodded slowly. "I'm a resident here, though I travel often. We didn't mean to loiter. We'll be off this road posthaste."

The Reaper's cool gaze remained settled on Ryther. "See that you do." He spun his Scythe. "Or else next time I'll give you a closer view of my Scythe."

Ryther nodded before yanking Carissa inside the house and slamming the door behind them. The room smelled of smoke and burnt toast—like a dinner gone terribly wrong.

Carissa pressed the ring to her chest, right over her pitter-pattering heart. She shouldn't have let a single Reaper arouse so much fear. She'd fought plenty of Reapers... but most times, Elon had been right at her side, to save her when she'd slipped up or to heal her from the aftermath.

A chill unfurled in her chest. Elon was gone. It was hard to even go an hour without being reminded of his absence. Would it always be this painful?

"Carissa?" Ryther touched her shoulder.

Carissa stepped backward, her gaze shooting to his. He'd never spoken her name before. "How did you know my name?"

"When we first entered the Healer's house and Mera said that Tian had woken up, she used your name." He reached out toward her shoulder again, only to drop his hand. "Are you all right?"

She raised her chin, blocking off the cold, hollow feeling in her chest. "What do you know about the Reaper King?"

"That's not an ans—"

"I don't have to answer every question you pose to me." She folded her arms. "Now continue."

Stubbornness glinted in his eyes, and for a moment, she thought he meant to refuse her. "The Reaper King draws his power from Soul Pieces."

"As do all Reapers."

Ryther nodded. "But he would die if he tried to consume a protected soul, a soul with the Gifting..."

Carissa sucked in a sharp breath. "The Gifting? Only the King of Nysia has the Gifting."

"Rumor says that the Gifting is also passed to his bride." Ryther's gaze remained on her, a cool, calculating look in his eyes.

Whoever this man was, he knew far too much for an ordinary noble. "Who are you, Ryther? If that's truly your name."

Ryther released a slow breath. "If I tell you... you have to promise me that won't change how you view me."

"That entirely depends on who you are."

He pursed his lips until they whitened. Then he nodded slowly. As if on cue, the temperature in the room plummeted until goosebumps shimmered across her arms. His brown eyes flashed red—ever so briefly.

And within the span of a blink, warmth flooded the room and Ryther appeared as he always had.

Carissa reached up her sleeve, touching the hilt of her dagger, the one Elon had given her. "You're a Reaper."

***

Author's Note: I don't have the sneak peek up yet, and unfortunately, given how crazy my schedule has been, I can't guarantee I'll get it up. But I'll certainly try. :)

Update: I just got the sneak peek up. I figured I should make it up to you guys for not having the sneak peek up last chapter. :)

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