Page 25 of Heir of Illusion

“I guess we’ll see.” He nods. “Get home safe, my lady.”

The reaper turns, his cloak billowing around him as he moves swiftly down the alley until the shadows swallow him whole. I stare after him for a moment, considering how likely he is to follow through on his threat. Did I make a powerful enemy tonight?

“What happened to your fear of the dark?” I mutter as I turn in the opposite direction.

“Your warm presence cured me of it.” His gravelly voice drifts through the night, startling me.

I scowl into the darkness, considering what I’ve learned this evening as I let an illusion settle over my skin. The reaper works for the God of Death, and he’s desperate enough for this whisperer to ask for my help stealing it. Whatever it is, it’s important to the powers that be, which makes it something I’m now deeply interested in.

The sound of flapping wings follows me through the city as I make my way back to the palace. Just before I reach the gates, the reaper’s amused voice reaches me once more.

“See you soon, Angel.”

Chapter

Seven

Darkness surrounds me.

“Fuck,” I mutter.

My knee sinks into the soft training mat as I keel over from the pain in my abdomen. I anticipated the blow, but not where it would land.

“You could at least pull your punches.” I wipe the sweat from my damp brow, careful not to disturb the strip of black fabric that sits over my eyes.

“And you could tell me why we’re doing this,” Remy’s amused voice calls from somewhere on my right.

When I arrived at our sparring session today, I asked if Remy would teach me to fight while blindfolded. He found my request to be odd, especially when I wouldn’t elaborate on why I wanted to start working on it immediately.

“But since you won’t,” Remy continues, “then neither will I.”

My recent encounters with the reaper frightened me more than I’d care to admit. It’s been one week since I last saw him, and in that time, I’ve admitted to myself that I most likely wouldn’t have survived our first encounter without the help of myeidolon. Perhaps if I wasn’t uncomfortable using her, I wouldn’t have ended up running for my life with a self-inflicted stab wound.

Still, the idea of training with her has my palms sweating. I’ve kept this ability secret since it first appeared nearly a year ago. It’s not as if I’ve never considered telling Remy, but every time I try, memories of the first time I summoned aneidolonkeep me silent. Explaining those circumstances would be dangerous.

For both of us.

But it’s becoming clear to me that I need to learn to use this skill during combat without draining myself. Or dying. While theeidolondoes rely on a combination of my commands and instincts, there’s also a mental tether connecting us that allows me to see through her eyes when I wish. But doing that is dangerous since it splits my focus and leaves my real body vulnerable. Training with a blindfold doesn’t fully solve that problem, but it’s the best I can do without revealing my true reasons.

Something hard smacks against my ribs, pulling my attention back to the fight. I lift the blindfold to find Remy holding a wooden sword in each hand.

“Really?” I rub the newly tender spot on my side.

“Be grateful they’re not real.” His bushy chestnut eyebrows pull together in admonishment as he dumps one of the weapons onto the mat in front of me. “Now get up.”

Humiliation burns in my gut as I rise to my feet and grab the sword. My fingers brush over the knicks in the pale wood, tracing the familiar flower design in the pommel.

Is this the same set we used when Remy first began training me? I was terrified the day he tossed them aside and grabbed two steel blades from the weapons wall. At only eleven years old, it was the first time I’d ever touched a real sword. I walked away from that session with shallow slices all over my body, but the pride shining in Remy’s eyes erased any pain I might have felt.

As one of the few half fae in a position of authority, he’s worked tirelessly to rise to his rank as captain of the city guard. Despite not being blessed with magic, he’s the greatest fighter I’ve ever met. I’m lucky that he took an interest in the strange little girl the king brought home one day. Without Remy, I doubt I’d have made it this far.

“I simply thought it might be fun to fight with my eyes closed,” I tell him through gritted teeth. “It would even the odds a bit. Make things more exciting.”

“Because fights to the death are usually so dull,” he says dryly.

“It was just an idea.”

“And the urgency with which you demanded to be taught?”

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