Page 138 of Reaper’s Curse

Even with Myla’s drawings, finding Chiara had been too easy. Did she want to be found?

She sat on a wooden bench pressed against the wall and had one leg crossed at the knee. The flickering light highlighted her outline while hiding her finer details.

Her leg bounced with what I took as impatience. “When I left the tower door unlocked for you, I never expected it would take you this long to get your feathered ass down here.”

This can’t be good.

If she had been expecting me, then things had gone completely off course and spiraled into Tartarus before I could even get started.

“Sorry to disappoint,” I deadpanned and crossed my arms.

I fought the urge to adjust the bodice of my gown because that would likely result in the loss of reaper creds.

“Yes, well, I guess I shouldn’t be surprised,” she said with a sigh of annoyance. “By the way, what is that you’re wearing? Did you go to the birthday ball dressed like a crow?”

They are raven feathers, not crows!

A retort I chose to keep silent.

“Rather creative,” she added. “Let me guess, that little mother of twins made it for you. She’s pretty handy with a needle and thread. Her daughters are even handier with their magic, as limited as it might be, given the circumstances.”

“About that.” I took a stride forward and stopped.

The magical marking on the floor was two steps away, and I didn’t want to do anything that would make things worse. I needed to approach the task carefully. Properly.

“You do know that everyone’s magic is tied up by the queen in an attempt to balance what you did with the specters.”

She snorted, as if to imply that something I said was funny.

Ignoring her response, I drove forward. “Why the specters, Chiara? What are you getting out of this?”

It was a question I really wanted answered, because even though I, myself, had become invested in the lives of some of those in the citadel, I didn’t believe for a moment that I could condemn so many others to save one, as Chiara had apparently done.

Unless that one is Chace.

I snagged and strangled that intrusive thought, tossed it from my mind. Now was neither the time nor the place to entertain a change in my moral code.

Chiara uncrossed her legs and leaned forward, bracing her forearms on her thighs. “To be honest, little reaper…”

I bristled. I was not little.

“I don’t even know anymore. The magic has worn off, and I’m rather over it. I wouldn’t mind if this whole thing were finished.”

My mouth popped open. I hadn’t expected such candor, and I definitely hadn’t expected an answer like that one.

If Chiara wanted to be done with whatever this was that she’d been living for the past century, then maybe… “Is that why you were with the queen earlier?”

Chiara raised an eyebrow.

“I saw you moving through the halls with the royal guard.”

“Ahh.” With a grimace, she dipped and shook her head. “No. That was me making good on my agreement with the Crown. Every year on August’s birthday, the family gets an evening with him. From sundown until the start of the new day.”

Midnight. That explained the strange timing of the royal family’s appearance at the gala.

Reaping hell.

The queen knew a lot more than she was sharing. And yet…