The title draws my attention away from the crow for a moment, the coveted position of a Shade finally within my grasp. I had earned it; there was no doubting that. I had spent the past three years tirelessly collecting souls for Veltuur, abiding by every rule of the Reapers, worshipping the underrealm without fault, and now I was finally being recognized for my loyalties.
Or at least that is how it would have been, had everything been different. If I had killed Gem like I was supposed to and claimed my five thousandth soul right there in the palace, I would have accepted the role of Shade without hesitation and with immense pride.
But now the title repulses me. To carry it would be a constant reminder of the betrayal of the only mortal friend I have. To ascend to a role of power, and to work side-by-side with the Councilspirits, would make me complicit in the torture they put the Reapers through by making them work alongside the people they have slain.
The ruffling of the crow’s feathers makes me clench my fists, and I snap my vicious gaze back toward him.
I feel Leumas’ scowl as he assesses me. “Is everything all right? Is that not what you wanted? To become a Shade?”
Before I can answer, a cloud of smoke forms behind Leumas, and with a hollow pop of air, Nerul appears from within it.
The Shade bows deeply, his blond hair falling over the pale skin of his face. “Forgive my tardiness, Councilspirits. I was caught up recruiting another Reaper.”
When we make eye contact, his lips curve, resembling the shriveling of rotten fruit. The expression leaves me just as sick as if I’d eaten some.
Although at first, his appearance surprises me, when I catch the warm greeting Nymane casts him, I realize he has likely just been summoned to provide the information that I have been hesitant to give.
“Well done,” Nymane purrs. “We can always use another Reaper, especially one who’s already lost so many. He’ll have fewer…limitations.”
“He’ll have none once he kills his father,” Nerul corrects. “Now, what did I miss? Have you passed the verdict yet on what to do with this Reaper?”
Though Nymane answers him, her words are drowned out as the weight of their conversation about recruitment hits me in the chest.
“Who?” I blurt, my skin cold and clammy. “Who did you recruit, Nerul?”
His smile widens. “The prince, of course. Easiest recruit I’ve ever nabbed. He was raring for a kill. All in the name of justice too. It’s always a perfect motive. I figured his sister will likely be out of our reach now—no thanks to you—but the time we spent with that family didn’t have to be a complete waste.”
“No,” I breath, but I make sure that no one above can hear me.
As Nerul continues, giving the Council a play-by-play of the last couple of days he spent tailing me, I find myself spiraling into my own thoughts. Acari is going to murder the king—his own father. In order to save his sister, he is going to condemn himself to the life of a Reaper, and once he reaches Veltuur, he will have no knowledge of it. The second he is initiated, he will lose all memory of it. He will forget who he killed and why; he will forget his sister, and his late brother and mother. Everything. The person he is will be erased from existence entirely, and he will never come back.
It is a fate I can’t imagine. Not for him. Not for sweet, naive, compassionate Acari.
There has got to be another way.
Just then, the crow flies down into the pit, landing on the ground in front of me. He swivels his head, like he is waiting for me to do the thing I am not even sure I can do. Like he has been waiting for years for this moment.
It does not have to end like this for Acari. There is another way. Aulow had said as much.
The conversation continues above, the Councilspirits paying little to no attention to the crow and I below them.
I suck in a deep breath and whisper. “I… am…”
The words stick to my tongue like the slime of a snail. All it will take is one simple word, one tiny, little apology, and Acari and Gem can keep their lives. My contract on Gem’s life will be broken, and I will cease being a Reaper. I am not sure what that will entail exactly, but I imagine as I am already before the Council, it won’t much matter. They will send me to the Wraiths regardless.
But that is hardly the point. The point is: Acari won’t have to make the mistake he is about to make. All I have to do is utter three simple words, a quick apology, and forgive the man that my crow once was.
But it is not a simple apology. It is the exact opposite of simple. I can’t say I am sorry to the man that stole my innocence, to the man who violated more than just my body, and is the very reason I became a Reaper. He should be the one apologizing to me!
The crow ruffles his feathers with a hop, and it is almost like he is urging me on.
I am so conflicted that I bite my lip. This man does not deserve my apology, but Acari also does not deserve to become a Reaper and lose everything he has been fighting so hard for.
“I…I am sorry,” I grit out, pained and sullied, like my own tongue has just betrayed me.
The crow blinks at me and I blink back. Time seems to stand still as I wait for something to happen. But the longer we stand there, the less I’m sure of what I am waiting for. A transformation? A flash of light? A vision of Aulow to
