Page 50 of Reaper's Ruin
He stared at me, no doubt hoping for an answer. Instead, I nodded, relieved to focus on logistics rather than the confusing emotions about Soraya churning inside me. “That could work.”
“But Rhyker, you’d better be careful. If the Veil Lords find out—”
“They won’t,” I cut him off. “At least, not from you right?”
Taelon’s expression sobered. “I won’t say a word. As far as anyone knows, you’re still chasing this rogue soul around Faelora. I’ll tell them I ran into you, and you’re closing in on her.”
I studied him, surprised by his easy alliance. “Why would you risk yourself for me?”
He shrugged, a half-smile playing on his lips. “Maybe I like seeing the mighty Death actually give a damn about something for once. Or maybe I’m just curious to see how this plays out.” His eyes met mine, suddenly serious. “Or maybe I remember what it’s like to care about someone that much.”
For a moment, I considered looping him into the full weight of our dilemma. The dagger. The man that killed her likely being a Storm court royal. I could have him use the power of his Reaper form in a way I no longer could, watching from the shadows and reporting back to me anything he learned. But Soraya was the only one who would recognize her killer, and Taelon was a fae. No matter how much he started to wear down on my desire to have nothing to do with him, if there was one thing I’d learned when I was still alive, it was that fae can never,everbe trusted.
Before I could respond, Soraya returned holding two tankards of ale. Taelon shot me a knowing look, complete with exaggerated eyebrow wiggles when her back was turned.
“I should be going,” he said, straightening. “Souls to reap, you know how it is. Nice meeting you, Soraya. Good luck finding your door.”
“Nice to meet you too,” she replied with a genuine smile. “Thanks for helping us.”
He winked at her, then at me, before slipping back into the shadows and disappearing completely.
Soraya settled across from me, sliding my ale forward. “I like him. He’s funny.” She took a sip, leaving a small foam mustache on her upper lip that she quickly wiped away. “So, all Reapers aren’t grumpy and terrifying, huh?”
“Taelon is an exception,” I muttered, taking a deep drink from my tankard.
“And apparently, so are you,” she said, studying me over the rim of her cup. “‘Death’ himself, helping a lost soul instead of reaping it. What would the other Reapers say?”
“Nothing good,” I replied grimly, knowing that what I’d chosen to do—what I was continuing to do—had consequences I hadn’t yet faced. But consequences I would happily endure for the chance to see her find her peace and see her mother again, even if it meanthaving to say goodbye. Something that was going to be harder and harder to do the longer I spent time with her.
She reached across the table, her fingers lightly touching my hand. It was just the briefest contact, but it sent a jolt through me, the sensation of her warm skin against mine still novel and overwhelming.
“Thank you,” she said softly. “For all of this.”
I looked down at where her fingertips had brushed my skin, searching for something to say that wouldn’t reveal too much of what I was feeling. But before I could find the words, she pulled her hand back, her attention already shifting to our next steps.
“So, the Storm Court,” she said, her voice stronger now. “How do we get there from here?”
I was grateful for the change in subject. This, at least, I understood. Plans. Strategy. These were safer territory than the unfamiliar landscape of emotions she kept dragging me into.
“We’ll need to find appropriate clothing first,” I said. “Something that will help us blend in with the Storm Court aesthetic.”
“And how exactly are we going to afford that?” she asked, gesturing to the nearly empty pouch Selyse had given us. “We spent most of our money on this meal and won’t have enough for fancy clothes.”
A plan was already forming in my mind—one that involved locating some of the Dark Market’s less savory characters and relieving them of their ill-gotten gains. I’d spent centuries watching from the shadows; I knew exactly which criminals deserved to fund our mission.
“Leave that to me,” I said. “We’ll have what we need by morning.”
She studied me for a moment, a small smile playing at her lips. “You’re going to do something bad, aren’t you?”
“Does it bother you?” I asked, genuinely curious about her moral boundaries.
She took another sip of ale, considering. “Normally, yes. But considering I’m trying to find out who murdered me and my mother, and you’re literally Death helping me avoid extinction... I think I can make an exception to my usual moral code.”
I found myself almost smiling at that. Almost.
“Good,” I said, finishing my ale. “Because we’ll need to bend a few rules to get what we need.”
“Rules are already pretty bent, don’t you think?” she replied with a laugh that did strange things to my insides. “What’s a few more at this point?”
