Page 13 of Reaper’s Curse

Aoes rolled his eyes. Clearly, he did not share Camilla’s opinion of the children’s father.

Realization hit me fast and hard. Camilla, and possibly Aoes, thought the girls’ father was having an affair with my relative Chiara Badden. That she was one of the other lovers. Was that even a possibility? She had been here on a task. Sent here to reap. Would she forgo the professionalism for a night of limb-twisting, body-melding activities with the target?

Didn’t seem likely. She was a Badden.

I swallowed a groan.

And half Gunn. The product of the families mingling. Maybe a Gunn would mix pleasure with work—I wasn’t sure—but another explanation could just as easily exist.

Either way, my curiosity bubbled over. The curse was the only reason such a connection between a relative from long ago still existed. With all the things on the table for me to consider, I found myself needing to know. About Chiara, her last task, any connection she might have to the curse.

Without releasing Camilla’s hand, I slipped into the seat beside her. “I didn’t know. I’m so sorry. I realize a lot of time has passed, but is there anything I can do to help you…with this, or anything else?”

Reaping gods. I really was laying it on thick, wasn’t I?

I wanted more information about my ancestor, but whatever knowledge she had on Raven seemed more pertinent to the here and now. Honestly, if I could get answers on both, that would be ideal.

“It was a long time ago, and for the most part, I’ve put it all behind me.” She shook her head. “My little breakdown just now—I don’t do that often. So, thank you for the offer, but no. There isn’t anything you can do.” She smiled, although the light never touched her eyes. “We had been a mistake from the start. It’s just―”

“Cam-cam,” Earl called from the kitchen doorway. “Mi. Kirr. Can me get?”

For an afflicted man who had trouble with names, he managed to recite his business questions well enough that most everyone understood his meaning. But damn him for the interruption. The chances of Camilla finishing her sentence and imparting some possibly useful information were tumbling into a grave.

“Will you stay? Eat breakfast with me?” I asked, wanting more time to explore her knowledge. “It'll be my treat.”

The girls pulled chairs up to the table before Camilla could accept or refuse.

She laughed. “I guess you have your answer. Yes, and thank you.”

Aoes helped Earl in the kitchen and then joined us for the meal. Although I wanted nothing more than to pump the woman for answers to my many questions about Raven and Chiara, I kept the conversation light and worked on building trust between us. I asked her about her girls, her occupation, how she befriended Aoes, and…because she had mentioned the prince’s name…I asked about Winter.

The girls were her world and had been, unfortunately, locked at a young age for a century. She was a seamstress by trade and sometimes worked side by side with a friendly tailor and dressmaker who owned a storefront.

“I used to be one of the official royal seamstresses, but those days are long gone,” she said with a grumble. She shared a knowing glance with Aoes. “That’s where I met this one.” She tilted her head toward the pub manager. “I used to find him utterly irritating, but he’s grown on me…kind of like a virus.”

Aoes snorted.

“And now, I’d even go as far as to consider him a friend.”

“Wow.” Aoes clasped his hands over his heart. “Thanks for the warm, gushy words, luv.”

She smirked and rolled her eyes. “I met Winter through that job, as well.”

Her volume dropped low, and her eyes glazed over, as if in deep reflection.

The change in her tone for a few of her answers could have been simply because the subject matter directly related to the royals, the richest and most powerful family trapped in the cursed citadel. But…and it was a “but” I was willing to bet money on…I suspected Camilla was editing significant information from her responses.

When my turn to speak came, I severely edited the details I shared, too. I told Camilla I was part of a team sent from the “collection’s” office. I also mentioned Raven’s recent disappearance and how I’d been trying to locate her, only to learn she was now staying at the castle.

Camilla’s eyes grew wide at the mention, and I bit my tongue against asking her why. Was the mention of the palace the cause of her reaction? Or the resulting proximity between Raven to Prince Winter?

“You know what’s really crazy?” Aoes blurted in a clear attempt to redirect the conversation. “Since your team arrived and chose my little establishment as your home base, business has been slowly growing. I may need to look into hiring an extra body or two to handle the kitchen and bar.”

Camilla clapped her hands together and beamed. “That’s great news!”

Indeed. Not that we had actually chosen his establishment. More like, fell into it as the result of circumstances.

And why had the pub’s business increased? Because, despite the request for keeping things quiet about Raven’s afflicted healing, people talked. Now patrons wandered in for a drink and good company because they had a kernel of hope for the future. Or they hoped to run into Raven and sway her to help an afflicted loved one of their own.