The Deathsinger: Book 1

Ch 7: For a Friend

Too nervous to go about the castle with the members of The Hunt wandering about, I went back to my room. Better to be safe. It was my life's motto, though Joreen would call it cowardice instead of caution.

I sat on the edge of my bed, rubbed my palms across my thighs, and dragged in a trembling breath. How had everything gone awry so quickly? Rain splatters against my window drew my gaze to the warped glass panes, and I was reminded of Joreen standing there. Perhaps that's where I was wrong. There was nothing quick about what was happening in Edresh; I just no longer had the benefit of ignorance.

"Always crying," the Reaper said, materializing in the center of my room, causing me to shriek in surprise. Beneath his headwrap, I could not tell if he was amused by the outburst.

Scrambling away from him, I touched my cheek to find he was right. Scrubbing away the tear, I leveled a frosty glare in his direction, but he ignored it. Garbed in the same outfit as before, he stalked around the small bedchamber, looking at everything with keen interest. A finger slid across the silver hairbrush lying on the vanity and then made its way across the book of poetry on my nightstand. His cloak appeared ordinary at the moment, hanging limply around his lean figure as he moved.

"So much is similar here," he said, before looking at me and shaking his head. "But much is different too."

"Why are you still here? You've done your job. Go." I wanted him gone, and not just because his presence in my personal haven made me uncomfortable. There was something about the Reaper that put me on edge. Perhaps the mix of boyish charm and danger? Or the knowledge that he would slit my throat if he was told to do so?

"You think Reapers are only around for the souls of High Elves? One of the queen's ladies, a Pixie girl from the east, fell ill. Already, her soul is separating from its fleshy cage. I will have to attend to her in a few minutes."

"You're the first Reaper I've ever seen. Why do the souls in Edresh need your assistance?"

He scoffed. "Just because you have not seen us does not mean we are not present, and if your king had not meddled with the natural order of things, most souls would have no need of a Reaper."

Curious, I leaned in. "So why speak to me? Why not just do your work and go?"

"Because I did not expect to find a Deathsinger in Edresh, and I need your help."

I looked at my door, heart pounding in my chest. "You cannot say that so loudly. Someone might hear."

His eyebrows raised. "Last time you protested being called that. What has changed?"

"Why are you here, and how do you expect me to help you?"

The Reaper spun the globe on my desk. It was my favorite possession, depicting our world in vivid detail. Each of the four enclaves within Edresh were represented, their colors and magic flaring whenever they were touched. When it spun, silver and gold ribbons of fire consumed it all, merging into a single star speckled blanket. It had cost me an entire month's allowance, but I saw it and could not walk away.

"I must go," he announced, ignoring my question. The cloak billowed around him until he was wrapped like a caterpillar in a chrysalis. It turned to shredded mist, and the last thing to disappear were his unnerving brown eyes.

Once again, I'd survived an encounter with the Reaper. It would be better for me if it was our last. Something told me it would not be, and I wasn't sure which option frightened me more.

I flopped back on the bed and stared at the wooden beams crossing the ceiling. The patterns of the grain were more familiar to me than my own fingerprints. Years of lying here, tracing them as I pondered the day's events or wondered about my past, had engraved them into my mind and memories almost as deeply as they were ingrained in the wood. I almost believed there was a bit of magic in the lines. Something that opened my eyes to the answers to my problems.