Page 3 of Reaper’s Curse

But the royal advisor stepped forward and shoved the second rolled parchment in my face, pulling all of my attention.

“Your copy,” he said. “The terms of the agreement are documented here so that you may at any time review the expectations.”

“That reminds me.” With an upward pointed finger striking the air, Valen spun back to face me. “The queen would prefer to keep your arrangement a private matter.”

Hence, avoid the servants because servants and staff talk.

I dipped my head in a nod of understanding, temporarily hiding the burning glare I’d been shifting back and forth between the two men. The glare that went hand in hand with my building irritation.

Rash and stupid of me to concede to any deals with the queen without thorough thought of the consequence.

“Remember all the terms,” Valen demanded. “And recommended courses of action as requested by Her Royal Majesty the queen with regard to our crown prince.”

I frowned at the attempted triple press of importance; royal, majesty, queen. As if any status superseded death.

Not that I was death itself. No, I was no death deity, but I acted on their behalf.

Yet…that was not the important part of the message. The importance hung over my expected behavior regarding Winter.

Discourage his interest. Put distance between you. Basically, put an end to any fraternizing whatsoever.

After he had saved my life and I had saved his back.

I pressed my lips into a tight line. “You don’t need to remind me. The queen made her conditions perfectly clear.”

The queen was asking me to be a horrible person, and I despised the request, but I would honor it…somehow.

How to do so without hurting Winter, I didn’t have a clue.

Valen’s eyes flashed as an arrogant smirk tugged at his lips. “And your friends,” he added with a measured tone. “The others in your party. They are not to know about the arrangement you have with the queen.”

His intense stare dared me to refute. Instead, I decided to take a different approach.

“Of my friends, one is only newly returned to health, and I wouldn’t want to risk a relapse.” I bit the inside of my lip and contemplated Aldine’s possible condition.

Valen arched a brow. “Wise, I think.”

A soft huff rose in my throat. “The other member of my team… I’ve been told he is locked up in some underground cell somewhere. You wouldn’t happen to have any idea where I could find him, would you?”

“Locked up?” The royal healer jolted straight. “In a cell? Underground?”

“Well, that sounds concerning.” The portly advisor pressed a finger to his lower lip. “I know of no underground cells, and I hate to contemplate their existence. Although…” He tilted his head into his shoulder and scratched the back of his large, rounded ear. “Such things would seem possible in a city as old as this one.”

“Indeed,” Valen agreed with a thoughtful nod, then he looked down his slightly crooked nose at me. “But are you not referring to the one our queen demanded leave the citadel? Are you sure he didn’t simply do as was ordered?”

Our queen? My thoughts simmered. She is your queen. Not mine.

And as much of a jerk as Chace could be, I didn’t believe for one death god moment that he would wordlessly depart.

The door behind Valen swung open, and a young lady dressed in common royal servant attire stepped into the room. She startled at our gathering with a soft gasp and a hand to her lips.

She tipped her head. Began backing from the room. “So sorry.”

“It’s fine.” The advisor waved her forward. “We were just leaving. Weren’t we?”

Turning toward the exit, he shifted his gaze to Valen for validation.

“That we were.”