“Of course, Shade Nerul. I have no desire to make this take longer than necessary.”
“Very well.” Nerul sweeps his arm out, his crow hopping to his upturned hand as he steps out of the alley.
Of the denizens remaining outside, almost all share a collective shriek at the smoke collecting around him, at the death that seems to live beneath his skin.
Before he is consumed in coalescing shadows, he calls over his shoulder and I can only just barely see his nose and red eyes from beneath his hood. “If you’re committed to haste, I’d suggest checking on your prince. It seems the royal guard are intent on intervention.”
“What?” I say, breaking for the street.
Just as Nerul disappears, I fill the space where he was standing, the black clouds clearing around me, the dry stench of moss and woods lingering in the air. But through the clearing, I see the guards he spoke of, each of them holding on to one of Acari’s arms and steering him out of the inn.
Our eyes lock, and for the briefest moment, I have to consider whether rescuing him is worth it. With him out of the way, killing his sister will be immensely easier. The only problem is I can’t kill her until I find her, I can’t find her until Crow returns, and even once he does, I’m not allowed to claim her soul until the prince tells me what I need to know about the Guardians.
But even before I reach my inevitable conclusion, Acari shouts my name.
“Sinisa, help!”
There’s something about his desperation that ignites me. There’s something familiar about seeing him dragged against his will, and if I never knew this about myself before, I know it now that I don’t believe anyone should be forced to do something they don’t want to do.
This prince does not want to be taken back to his home, and right now he is calling on me to intervene.
I’m sprinting before I even notice it, leaving behind the questions I have about why I feel so compelled to help this boy when I could just as easily avoid the trouble.
The guards struggle against his squirming. One of them takes both his arms while the other unlatches one of the carriage doors. They push and pull him forward, trying to force him into the vehicle, and I know if I don’t reach them before he’s inside that he will likely be gone. I know men like the king. If he’s sent for him, it is to teach him a lesson, one that the prince will likely be “learning” for a long time. He will be imprisoned at the palace, or at the very least forbidden from fulfilling his quest.
Fortunately, I don’t have to worry about any of that though, and neither does the prince. In strides, I cut the distance between us like a hawk diving after its prey. The guards notice me one at a time, stiffening at the sight of me, a Reaper, charging full speed for them.
The one holding Acari releases him instantly. In one great leap, he takes shelter behind the carriage, a terrified moan escaping him. The other guard freezes, door still in hand, eyes as wide and white as the moon.
Stumbling forward, Acari scrambles as far away from them as he can until we are side-by-side. I ignore his grateful yet bewildered gape, sensing his questions but uninterested in answering them.
“You will tell your king that he is no one’s to claim,” I bark.
The guard before me remains motionless aside from a slight quiver to his bones, while the guard hiding behind the carriage pokes his head out from behind the wheel.
“M-my apologies, R-Reaper. But the king commanded—”
“I don’t care what your king commanded. Is he mightier and scarier than a Reaper?” When the guard shrinks back from the challenge burning in my eyes, I know I’ve made my point. “The prince will return when he decides to return—if he decides to return. And until then, the king won’t send anyone else after him, or so help me, I will kill each and every one of them. Do I make myself clear?”
“Y-yes.”
“Good. Now, be gone.”
I flick my wrist, and a tuft of black smoke puffs from my fingertips. The guard behind the carriage yelps, but to his credit, instead of fleeing and leaving his comrade, he steps from around the back wheel just enough to grab the other guard by the shoulders and pull him away. The jerking motion seems to be enough to snap the other guard back to himself, and together they scramble into the carriage. There’s a crack of a whip before the horse bellows and bolts down the road.
Left standing in the dust, Acari coughs into his hand. When his lungs are cleared, he eyes me warily. “Th-thank you. I wasn’t sure you’d help—not to sound mean or anything. I just wasn’t sure a Reaper—I mean, someone like you—would…you know?”
As I stand there watching the carriage rock from side to side as it barrels down the cobblestone road, I’m not sure if I’m relishing in my victory or just avoiding the prince’s unspoken question. There’s a very logical, rational explanation for why I helped him, but I’m not so sure it alone is why I did. I can’t remember ever making a decision like that before, a choice between helping someone or standing idly by. Then again, even though I can’t remember one, I can feel it, a flash of a memory that I can’t quite piece together, and I can’t help but wonder if this has something to do with Nerul’s warning. He said there was a reason Reapers weren’t allowed to stay in Tayaraan too long. Maybe it has something to do with our memories.
“Let’s just get to our rooms,” I say, feeling strangely vulnerable all of a sudden in the middle of the street. I turn back around, to
