Page 31 of Reaper’s Ruin (Reaper’s Ruin Trilogy #1)
I stretched across the four-poster bed, silk sheets wrapped around me like a dream. The mattress was sinfully soft, the morning sunlight golden—but there was still one thing missing.
Rhyker.
Not beside me, not even in the same damn room.
As wonderful as the accommodations were, I couldn’t help but feel a twinge of disappointment.
When the prince had offered us lodging in the royal wing, I’d secretly hoped for a single room with one bed—the perfect setup for that romance novel trope I’d been fantasizing about since our first night together.
But I’d been denied my fantasy again when we’d been taken to an elegant suite with a shared sitting room in the center and separate bedchambers on either side.
Which made sense of course because he was supposed to be my escort not my husband, but still. I’d hoped.
Instead, we’d stayed up half of the night with him drilling Storm Court facts into my head like I was cramming for a college final. Now that we were no longer nobodies faded into the background, he was extra intent on making sure I wouldn’t say the wrong thing and get us both killed.
Again.
We’d come up with the perfect cover story.
Me, Lady Soraya, raised by an overprotective single father who never let me out of the house.
It allowed me to play the part of someone unfamiliar with so much of this land and this culture, only free for the first time with my father’s passing.
I would still need to do my best to fit in, but we hoped it would smooth out any bumps we hit when I acted like a complete idiot.
I stretched, yawning as I slid to the edge of the bed, dangling my feet over and sliding them into my slippers.
Memories of last night flooded back—the masquerade, the dance, the way Rhyker had looked at me with such intensity that it had stolen my breath.
For one heart-stopping moment, I’d been certain he was going to kiss me.
I’d wanted him to, more than I’d ever wanted anything.
Then that scream had torn through the ballroom, and shattered the moment.
A soft knock at the outer chamber door interrupted my thoughts.
“Soraya?” Rhyker’s deep voice called from the sitting room. “There’s a messenger. We’ve been invited to join the royal hunting party this morning.”
I pinched my nose. Hunting? I’d never cared for hunting, and definitely had no desire to shoot anything myself.
I loved animals and had a hard time even eating meat without seeing a cute face mocking me from my plate.
But the fact we’d been invited into the inner circle was progress at getting me closer to that man I’d seen last night.
The one I was pretty damn sure had stuck a knife into my chest.
“Coming!” I called back, then I slipped into the blue dress Rhyker had picked out when we’d gone shopping. It was simpler than last night’s gown but still finer than anything I’d ever owned in life. After dressing, I hurried into the sitting room of our suite.
Rhyker stood by the window, already dressed in hunting attire that made him look even more devastatingly handsome than usual. The dark blue jacket with silver trim emphasized his incredible physique, and the high boots gave him an even more commanding presence .
“Royal hunting party?” I asked, trying not to stare at how perfect he looked.
“Prince Alaric has invited us to join,” he said, his expression carefully neutral. “After your heroics last night, we’re honorary members of the court now.”
“So that’s... good?” I ventured.
“It puts us closer to the royal family,” he admitted. “And potentially to your killer.”
My killer. We were so close now. Somewhere in this castle was the man who had stabbed me to death in my own living room. Who had murdered my mother.
“Then let’s go find him,” I said, squaring my shoulders.
An attendant led us through the castle’s winding corridors and out to the royal stables.
A warm breeze blew through my hair, bringing with it the sweet smell of flowers in the gardens we passed by.
Even with the storm raging high above the mountain peak, somehow the rest of the surrounding area was bathed in warm sunlight.
A perfect summer morning. Another oddity of this strange land I’d found myself in.
Prince Alaric was already there, dressed in elaborate hunting attire, surrounded by a small entourage.
He was handsome in an obvious way. Though I would almost refer to him as “pretty” rather than handsome.
Not feminine, but not the kind of guy you’d expect to see cracking skulls and swinging swords like Rhyker.
He almost looked like my favorite Grey’s Anatomy crush, Jackson Avery, but instead of a close cut, he had a different, slightly longer hairstyle.
If it weren’t for the fact I was irrevocably smitten with the hulking, brooding form of Death standing beside me, I’d have probably gotten a little swoony over him.
His face brightened when he saw us. “Lady Soraya! Lord Rhyker! I’m delighted you could join us.” His gaze lingered on me a moment longer than necessary, something Rhyker clearly noticed judging by the slight tension in his jaw.
“Thank you for the invitation, Your Royal Highness,” I replied with what I hoped was an appropriate curtsy I’d practiced last night.
“Please, call me Alaric.” The prince smiled warmly. “After what you did for my brother, formality seems unnecessary.” He gestured toward a magnificent Stormsteed being led from its stall. “Would you like to see my mount? He’s the finest in the royal stables.”
“I’d be honored.” I followed along behind him.
The Stormsteed was even more impressive up close—its feathers a deep midnight blue that shimmered with highlights when it moved. Its silver eyes regarded me with intelligent curiosity as we approached.
“This is Thunderheart,” Alaric said proudly, stroking the creature’s neck. “He’s descended from a long line of royal mounts. I raised him from a hatchling.”
“He’s magnificent,” I breathed, genuinely awestruck.
I felt Rhyker’s presence behind me before he spoke. “Remember,” he murmured in my ear, his voice so low only I could hear, “you’re supposed to be from the Eastern Reaches. Don’t act too impressed by a Stormsteed.”
He was right. A noble from the Storm Court territories, even a sheltered one, wouldn’t gawk at these creatures like they were something extraordinary.
I composed my expression into one of polite appreciation rather than wide-eyed wonder. “He has excellent conformation,” I said, using a term I vaguely remembered from the summer horse camp I’d attended as a child. “Strong wings, good bone structure.”
Alaric beamed. “You have a good eye, Lady Soraya. Do you ride often in the Eastern Reaches? ”
Before I could improvise an answer, a regal woman approached.
She was perhaps in her early fifties, though her face showed few signs of age—just the faintest lines around her eyes and mouth.
Her silvery-blonde hair, a contrast to her dark skin, was elaborately styled with lightning-glass pins, and her gown, though practical for riding, was clearly of the finest quality.
“Ah, Mother,” Alaric said, turning to greet her. “May I present Lady Soraya of the Eastern Reaches, the healer who saved Theron’s life, and her companion, Lord Rhyker.”
I curtsied deeply, recognizing her face from the ball when Rhyker had pointed her out—the sister of the late King and mother to Prince Alaric. The woman who would become the Queen Mother once her son was formally crowned.
“Your Royal Highness,” I said, keeping my eyes respectfully lowered.
“Rise, child,” she said, her voice smooth as silk. “I owe you my gratitude. Theron is my youngest, my baby. When I heard what happened...” She trailed off, emotion crossing her features. “How did you learn such an unusual technique? Our court healers were quite impressed.”
I swallowed, recalling the cover story Rhyker and I had carefully constructed.
“We were without a magical healer in my court for a time, Your Royal Highness. A primitive healer from a nearby human village showed us several emergency procedures to keep people alive until a proper healer could arrive.”
Her eyebrows rose slightly. “How fascinating. I suppose crude methods occasionally have merit, it seems.” She studied me with renewed interest. “What part of the Eastern Reaches do you call home?”
Rhyker had warned me this would happen—direct questions I wouldn’t know how to answer convincingly. Following his advice that the fae nobles love talking about themselves, I smiled and redirected.
“A small holding near the eastern border, Your Royal Highness. Nothing compared to the splendor of Thunderspire. I’ve heard the royal palace was built by the first Storm King himself. Is it true the central tower can harness lightning from the peak above?”
As predicted, her eyes lit up at the chance to speak about her home. “Indeed it does. Our ancestors built this fortress to capture the power of the eternal storm. The lightning-glass chandeliers you saw in the ballroom? They’re powered by the very lightning that strikes the central spire.”
“Remarkable,” I said, genuinely impressed. “Your home is truly the jewel of Faelora.”
She smiled, clearly pleased by the flattery. “You must join me for tea during your stay. I’d love to hear more about the Eastern Reaches. It’s been decades since I’ve visited.”
I nodded, relieved to have navigated the conversation without revealing my ignorance. “I’d be honored, Your Royal Highness.”
A younger nobleman approached, sweeping into a dramatic bow before me. He had a handsome face with laughing eyes and a roguish smile.
“Lord Destan Nightwind, at your service,” he introduced himself, taking my hand and pressing a kiss to my knuckles.
Rhyker seemed to grow several inches as he watched the interaction silently.