Page 142 of Reaper’s Curse

The revelers celebrated, completely unaware of anything amiss in the palace.

I supposed their ignorance was a well-deserved bliss. Knowledge was sometimes a burden that could wear an individual down.

As soon as Winter and I stepped foot into the connecting hall, palace personnel had ambushed the prince and escorted him away. He was apparently required for an impending royal appearance. The princely prick was late, the royal detail rushing.

Good riddance.

Although, as much as I didn’t want to admit the change in the prince’s disposition, he was slightly less grating on my nerves. I hadn’t smelled any deception on him that evening. So, there was a chance we just might manage to work together, after all.

Standing mere feet inside the hall and lobby-connecting gala doors, I scoured the crowd in search of her.

He has his sights set on her now.

I couldn’t shake my brother’s parting words, and the seeds of worry planted roots in my gut. I needed to find Raven and quickly, or madness might take hold.

An assemblage of color moved through the birthday ball in swirls and waves, but a glowing spot of feathers and night was nowhere to be seen. I did, however, note Camilla with Aoes, and the two claiming to be Raven’s palace-assigned servants.

Focused on Camilla, I stalked into the crowd and slid in beside her and Aoes, interrupting their giggles and laughs. “Have either of you seen Raven?”

“Not since the two of you disappeared together,” Camilla said with a cattish grin.

“Together, huh?” Aoes’s brow rose. “The way you say that”―he shot Camilla a curious, questioning smirk―“sounds like there might be a story there. But no, I haven’t seen her once tonight. What’s up?”

I immediately lost interest in talking to them. “I don’t yet know. Maybe nothing.”

I turned away and narrowed my gaze on the two servants: Lucas and Neive. I cut through the crowd, angling straight for them.

I grabbed Lucas’s arm to gain his attention. Both Lucas and Neive blinked in surprise. “Have you seen Raven?”

Lucas cleared his throat. “Not since I retrieved you.”

In the garden then, where fewer people mingled. And fewer protections existed.

“Have you checked with Prince Winter?” Neive offered.

The crowd broke into wild cheers and claps, and all eyes shifted to the box above. The royal family stepped into view, Winter among them.

“Oh.” Neive’s hand flew to her lips. “Maybe her rooms, then? She wasn’t exactly keen on attending this event.”

Raven’s room being the palace apartment identified by the sentinel crows lining the terrace. She had pointed the location out earlier, suggesting we might meet there. I could, presumably, use my soul hunter talent for scaling tall surfaces and check the space.

“Thank you.” I walked away without another word and strode out into the courtyard gardens.

The memory of our entangled exchange remained fresh in my mind. The warm press of her body, the sensual taste of her lips, the burning desire to take things a step further, and another step further.

With a soft groan, I shifted my gaze to where I’d last seen her. Touched her.

A splash of red caught my attention. She’d left her gloves. For me, maybe? So that I might hold a piece of her when we weren’t together? I moved to retrieve the gloves and…

Her mask and shoes, as well?

Her gloves, mask, and shoes? Where would Raven go without her shoes?

Collecting her small belongings and then drifting to the open doors of the gala, I peered into the crowd. I raised my gaze to Winter, who was surrounded by his royal family with fake smiles plastered in place. All but one, who was obscured beneath a gauzy veil.

But I didn’t care about the royals, or their apparent issue hidden in plain sight.

A sickening feeling seeped through my soul, covering my thoughts in oily residue and slowing my processing ability. A yet to be identified soul hunter talent prickled my senses, alerting me that something was wrong. Very, terribly wrong. I couldn’t identify what that something was, but the fires of rage were stoked, and my sight darkened.