by White, Gwynn
All screaming in the ballroom stilled. Everyone stared at her. Dominik’s shocked pallor was echoed on every face.
So many eyes watching her every breath—
Her chest caved in, and her knees knocked. She sought for a snappy comment, but her mind had frozen along with the rest of her.
“Snappy lines won’t help you now, Mistress. There is nowhere to hide.” The blue light tickled her face. “They all see you for what you are. My mistress.” The voice was anything but kind. It chuckled darkly. “You’re no longer an unseen blade with a smart tongue, Soul-Reaper.”
“Can’t you hear it?” she croaked, wishing someone else would speak. And why was the voice using the description Garrik reserved for her? Only he called her an unseen blade in the dark.
Dominik released her and stumbled back a step. “The Sword has chosen a new Soul-Reaper,” he whispered hoarsely.
She shook her head. “No. Not possible.”
“Oh yes, it is, Mistress. And don’t bother talking to them. Only you can hear me. I’m your Sword now.”
She collapsed onto her knees as the unknown man spoke in her head—and hers alone.
The Sword had chosen her.
Of every woman in the room, in the city, in Yatres, it had chosen her.
Is this what Ayda had warned her would happen if she pried too deeply into the mystery of the Sword and the Bone?
Had her questions inadvertently led to Ayda’s death?
No! I didn’t choose this.
Yet, the Sword belonged to her. And it had just killed its previous mistress.
The Sword rumbled a laugh. “It wasn’t I who killed her. It was the thief. The thief who has our Bone.”
She moaned softly. So it’s true? The Bone has been stolen?
“Caeda.” Dominik knelt in front of her. His breath tickled her face.
The blue light shrank away from his touch.
“What’s the Sword saying to you?” Dominik demanded.
He knew it could speak? Had Ayda heard the Sword, too? Is that who she had muttered at?
She wheezed, “Someone has stolen the Bone.”
Dominik’s astonishing eyes grayed. He spun on his haunches. “Get up to the Soul-Reaper’s tower and check on the Bone now!” he shouted to the closest guards.
Dain was one of them, the other, a Fae named Allaen. They spun, pushing and shoving through the nobles cramming the exit.
“Dominik,” the king shouted. “Take the Soul-Reaper and go with them. Then report back to me.”
Dominik grabbed her hand and pulled her to her feet. He let her go just as she pulled away from him. Years of discipline and training oiled her frozen legs.
Parted by Dain and Allaen, the crowd at the door watched silently as they clattered out the ballroom and onto the staircase. She took the spiral at a giddying speed with Dominik just a step behind. She and Dominik burst into the marble-and-crystal lobby below the tower.
They raced out the double doors and across the snowy courtyard that divided the main palace from the Soul-Reaper’s tower.
Despite her distance from the blade, that horrible voice cackled in her head. “Why are you running, Mistress? I told you, our Bone’s gone. Save that energy for finding it.” It laughed so loudly that she winced and slowed.
“Keep up,” Dominik commanded. On the heels of Dain, he swept her into the staircase winding up the Soul-Reaper’s tower.
How was it possible that she was here again today?
Only her training stopped her gagging.
Although she thought she’d schooled her expression into indifference, Dominik held out his hand. “I’m here for you, my lady. Lean on me if you have to.”
My lady?
Now she did gag. She shoved past him and raced up the stairs before he could see her heart-pounding pallor.
She reached the landing outside the iron door first.
Ryo and Lane were dead.
Pain lanced her.
Not them as well? How many more friends would she have to lose today? Was it not enough that so many had died in the battle with the Nyhans? Did more of the Fae she cared for have to perish in peace, too?
Dominik skidded to a stop next to her. “Arrows.” He swore, then made his way to the open iron door.
More concerned with the death of Ryo and Lane than the missing Bone, she knelt next to Ryo. On her first day in the Royal Guard, he had lain her flat on her ass in the dirt with one swing. When she’d leapt up smiling, bloody, and with a bruised ego, he’d helped her perfect her undercut. After that, he’d never managed to level her again.
And now he was gone, thanks to an arrow through his neck.
Blood leaked across the flagstones in a steady stream. She touched his skin. Still warm. She called to Dominik, “He’s not been dead long.” She spun on her heels to Lane. The burly fae had shared the same fate. They likely hadn’t had a chance to scream.
The iron door hung open, and the wards were gone, inviting all to enter.
Faces grave, Dominik, Dain, and Allaen stared into the room where the Bone lived. She clambered to her feet and sprinted over to them.
Shattered glass covered the floor. The display case was broken.
And the Bone was gone.
7
Caeda rubbed her temples. It did nothing to ease the pounding in her head.
Neither did the iron door that pinged and itched at her senses.
Nor did King Kaist’s shouted curses. Still dressed in his evening finery, the king elbowed Dain and Allaen out of the doorway. They had been left to guard the empty chamber while Dominik—with her dragged reluctantly behind him—had reported back to the king and the waiting nobles in the ballroom.
As to be expected, King Kaist had insisted on coming to see the calamity for himself. His mouth hung open as he surveyed the shattered glass and empty box. He had barely spared a glance at Ryo and Lane. No one had yet removed their bodies.
This time, she didn’t need imagination to see souls. And they didn’t coil like ribbons in Ryo and Lane’s bodies, either. They rolled like waves above and within their corpses. A creation of worlds and stars and moons. The moving of mountains and bottomless pits of black. A cosmos of being with no beginning, and no end, and no explanation her mind could comprehend. Dotted and streaked with colors she had never seen—that didn’t exist anywhere else in the world—they were individual megaverses trapped inside a shell of flesh and bone.
Was this what Ayda had seen when she’d reaped Laylea?
To touch something so beautiful made her shudder with the sheer wrongness of it. To sully their purity, to turn Ryo’s and Lane’s existence into a weapon, and not a galaxy of stars and dreams and color was wrong. Especially as she had no idea of what would happened to them once they vanished into the Bone.
Did souls die? Or would the essence of Ryo and Lane live forever in that Bone, trapped and unable to find freedom somewhere in the cosmos.
Until she had those answers—
Her headache pounded. What would she say if they asked her to reap Ryo and Lane before she understood it all?
No!
Not the first time today she shouted that short, sharp word to herself.
King Kaist’s hard gaze fell on her. From the downturned pull of his lips, what he saw didn’t impress him. “What’s your name?”
She saluted. “Lieutenant Caeda Aerith, sire.”
“Caeda.” He rolled her name off his tongue. “The Sword answers to you now. Where’s the Bone?”
So, he didn’t doubt that she was the new Soul-Reaper? Well, she had news for him. She would not be Reaping souls today. Or any other day until he told her everything he knew about that Bone.
But first they had to find the damned thing.
She wiped all expression off her face. Blank and bland, like she was trained to do, she said, “It didn’t say. Just that the Bone has been stolen, sire.”
The lines around the king’s eyes and mouth deepened. “Who stole it?”
The Sword hummed a merry tune in her head.
She tried not to wince but couldn’t help it.
“What’s it saying?” the king snarled.
Did everyone but her know that the evil thing chattered away to its handler?
She straightened her spine. “It’s humming, sire. Annoyingly.”
He glowered as if she were the stupidest Fae in the world. “Ask it to tell us where the Bone has gone, Soul-Reaper.”
Her cheeks flushed. She pulled inward to that horrible humming tune. Stop that racket right now and answer the king’s question.
The humming stopped. “How should I know, Nasty Reaper? The little thief wore a cloak. And the thief wants to be a secret.” It laughed so loud she had to fight to stop clutching her head. “Am I giving the mistress a headache?”
You know the answer to that, brat. Tell me something useful.
“Brat? Tush! The new mistress is tetchy.”
The king and Dominik watched her expectantly. The king’s face had turned a dangerous puce.
Unless you want me to grind you down to your hilt, tell me what you know.
“What a good joke, Nasty Reaper! But to answer your question, I can feel our Bone calling. That’s all I can tell you.”
Can or will?
The Sword hummed.
Caeda shook her aching head. “It says it can hear the Bone calling. But it doesn’t know who took it or where it is. Apparently, the thief wore a cloak.” It was on the tip of her tongue to tell the king and Dominik what she thought of the whole situation, and her part in it.
She refrained. King Kaist probably wasn’t in the mood for her brand of impropriety.
Dominik picked up a shard of broken glass and tapped it against his fingernail. “We must track it down before the thief strikes again.”
“Ooooh,” the voice in her head cooed. “We’d better find our Bone before the thief kills you, Mistress.”
“The Sword says we’d better find the Bone before the thief kills me.”
The king clutched the pedestal on which the empty box sat. Was that fear flickering in his brown eyes? It was gone before she could be sure, but from the way he held his colossal frame completely still, his usually straight back rounded, and his hand clawing that box—
The king was nervous. Afraid.
Whoever now had the Bone possessed the ultimate power, one that could bring down dynasties, and destroy and remake worlds. And they had already wielded that power to kill Ayda. How long would it be before that great and terrible force was turned against her and King Kaist? Would the Sword kill them, too?
“Thankfully the situation is unusual.” King Kaist’s throat bobbed. “Or should I say unheard of. But from what I know of the magic, killing its Soul-Reaper will have drained the Bone. Without the Sword and the Reaper to feed it souls, it will take time to replenish its power.” He glanced down at Ryo and Lane. “Pity we don’t have the Sword here. Those souls will go to waste now.”
Her chin jutted out. They won’t be the only ones. Still, some of the tension in her shoulders lifted at the news about the Bone’s possible weakness. But how long would it take for it to gather enough energy to fire at her? Hours? Days? Weeks?
“I don’t think Caeda’s death is the issue.” Dominik exchanged a troubled look with the king.
“What?” she demanded, no longer caring about military—or royal—protocol. “If there’s stuff I need to know about this cursed Sword and Bone, then tell me now.”
The king’s lips thinned, but he waved a hand at Dominik. “Tell her.”
“The Bone, the Sword, and the Soul-Reaper—they form a triad of power. Without the Sword and the Soul-Reaper, the Bone will never reach full strength again. What the thief did was reckless. Wasteful.” His voice was as bleak as his face. “It would have been better to take Ayda rather than to kill her.”
Her jaw dropped. She snapped it closed. “So, you’re telling me I’m next on the list to be stolen?”
“Don’t forget me, Mistress,” the Sword chimed.
Shut up, she hissed.
“It’s my guess the thief plans to use you to wield the Sword.” Dominik didn’t meet her eyes. “Perhaps he thinks you’ll be easier to manipulate than Ayda would have been.”
She shot to attention and glowered. “Then the bastard had better bring a big army if he thinks he’s taking me. No one is imprisoning me. And I will not be used to bring pain and chaos to my land and the Fae I love.”
A smile softened the king’s face. “The Bone and Sword always choose the toughest Soul-Reaper. But I’m not taking chances on your fighting skills.” He turned to Dominik. “She’s to be watched day and night. She’s never to be left alone. Her and her Sword. I’m putting you in charge of this.”
“Na-na-na-na-na,” the Sword crowed. “No melting me down. Or grinding me away. I’m with you until you die, bad-tempered Reaper.”
Her chest caved in. She sucked in a breath and raised an imperious finger. “Excuse me, sire. I get that the situation is trying, but I’m no pushover. I can defend myself.”
“I’ve no doubt about that.” The king drummed the empty box. “But you’re a Soul-Reaper. No Reaper has ever managed to toss a fireball or direct lightning. Are you saying you’re different?”
No Soul-Reaper had ever been magical?
That was news.
Too much confounded news about this assignment.
And it wasn’t an assignment, either. This was for life—if she survived long enough to live it the way she chose.
A smile twitched the corner of Dominik’s perfect lips.
Waiting for her to admit how magically inept she was? He’d wait a long time. So would the king. “What’s the plan for finding the Bone?”
“As Dominik said, you, the Bone and the Sword are a triad. Befriend the Sword. Work with it. It will help you find your missing apex before the thief gets to you first.”
“Yoo-hoo! Did you hear that, Nasty Reaper? He says we’re friends. Me, you, and our Bone.”
Friends? This was becoming crazier by the second.
“Stop being so nasty.” The Sword had become petulant. “And grumpy.”
She tried to ignore it. From the king’s haughty expression, he was waiting for a reply. She racked her brains for an answer and then almost rolled her eyes at her own stupidity. One evening with the Sword, and she was already losing her faculties. She bowed low.
“I will do whatever you command, sire. It’s an honor to serve you and Yatres.” The words, said so often over the years, and which had always brought her such surety, jarred off her tongue.
The king raised his hand. “I hereby relieve you of your duties within the Royal Guard. I strip you of your rank.” A piece of her tore off and blew away. “And I name you Lady Caeda Aerith, the Soul-Reaper of Yatres.”
She froze to hide the grief coursing through her. All she’d ever wanted was to serve on the guard, to protect the innocent and uphold the weak—but not like this. And worse, what did she know about being a lady who mixed socially with the royalty and nobility she had once served? There’d be no more jousting and rough banter in the barracks with Dain and their friends. She glanced at him.
Back ramrod straight, Dain stood at attention near the doorway. Ever so briefly, his eyes flickered to her. The same realization dawned in their depths.
They had both lost something tonight.
“Aw,” that hated voice gloated. “Don’t be so sad. Your new adventure awaits, Nasty Reaper. I truly do hope you survive it.”
She swore inwardly. The king and Dominik watched her, while every guard listened in. Over her dead body would she show them any weaknesses. She shoved her shoulders back.
The king gestured to the door. “Dominik, take our Soul-Reaper to the ballroom to fetch her Sword.”
Dominik bowed. “Of course, sire.” He offered her his arm. “Shall we?”
&nb
sp; She hesitated, but his green eyes flashed a warning at her. Even more irritating, a half smile quirked his lips. She ignored him and swept from the room like she was a lady in a ball gown, not a warrior in a Royal Guard uniform.
He quickly caught up with her. “Don’t make this harder than it has to be, my lady. The king has expectations. It’s best to meet them if you want to keep your head.” His voice was low, so the king and his guards couldn’t hear.
She glared at him. “I know all about expectations.” Her father had had plenty of them, none of which included her becoming a soldier. “And it’s bad enough that I need a guard dog. You don’t need to hang onto me like a barnacle as well.”
“Dogs? Barnacles?” He snorted. “It seems I’m quite the menagerie. And you do know we’re a hundred miles from the nearest ocean?”
She spoke under her breath. “Trust me, if we weren’t, I’d drown you. And the Sword.”
A low laugh reached her. It seemed Dominik Dakar found her funny. No doubt, his noble friends would think her hilarious, too. What had that stupid Sword been thinking when it had picked her? She held her breath and counted to ten in her head as she stomped down the stairs.
The Sword counted along with her.
By the time she reached the entrance to the ballroom, she understood exactly what Ayda had meant about avoiding the madness. The Sword’s manic voice had only been in her head for a few hours, but she was already on the verge of screaming at every noble who got in her way as she and Dominik stalked into the room.
Ayda’s body and her dead guards had been removed. The sprung wooden floor had been scrubbed of their blood. All that remained to show that anything untoward had happened was the abandoned Sword. It lay on the floor at the foot of the king’s empty throne where Ayda had left it.
It blinked at her.
She paused. Dominik also slowed, clearly as wary as she was about getting too close.
“Is blue light good or bad?” she asked him.
He shrugged. “You tell me. You’re the Soul-Reaper, my lady.”