Page 40 of Reaper’s Ruin (Reaper’s Ruin Trilogy #1)

I watched Soraya from across our shared sitting room as she pored over a roughly sketched map of the castle, trying to determine the best route for us to take to Lord Cassius’s chambers.

He was back now, and tonight during the festivities was our chance to get a look at this list. Her brow furrowed in concentration, a strand of hair falling across her cheek.

She tucked it behind her ear absently, her fingers lingering at the curve of her jaw.

Beautiful . I’d thought her beautiful from the first moment I saw her, even when I’d been hunting her and she’d been a sobbing, bloodied mess kneeling in the dirt.

But the more I knew her—her bravery, her determination, her odd sense of humor that still made little sense to me—the more that beauty seemed to radiate from somewhere deeper than skin.

Skin it turned out that was... half-fae.

The thought kept circling in my mind, relentless and inescapable like a predator.

Every time I looked at her, I searched for signs I might have missed—some hint of the heritage that apparently ran in her veins.

But there was nothing. No shimmer in her skin when light struck it a certain way.

No subtle sharpness to her features. Her eyes had been unmistakably human before Selyse had glamoured them to resemble the fae it turned out she was.

Nothing to scream that the blood of my ancient enemies flowed through her.

Fae .

The thing I hated most. The thing that had destroyed everything I’d ever loved. The creatures that had slaughtered my people, wiped humanity from Faelora.

Memories of my final days in the living realm flooded my mind. The panic. The terror. The blood as they’d carved through us like a wave of destruction. All five courts united against one. Us. The humans. The thing they’d decided didn’t belong.

The screams still rang in my ears. The cries of mothers calling for their children. The hollow in my chest when I realized they were gone.

Every last one.

And I was the last human standing.

For that short time to know I was alone in this life. Everyone and everything I’d ever cared for gone. Everyone I was supposed to protect wiped away by the fae. And then, they’d ended me too.

And Soraya. Sweet Soraya. She was one of them. It felt impossible.

And yet...

She had to be. It was the only explanation for how she’d arrived here. Somehow, twenty-four years ago a Realm Walker must have broken Faelora law, gone to the Mortal Realm and created... her.

Warm, vibrant, impossibly human Soraya.

Half-fae .

However horrifying, it had to be true. And if her father was a Realm Walker, the ability, though rare and not always passed down, must have been how she’d made it here. Some inherited ability hidden inside her that somehow, someway, pulled her into my world, into my life, into my... heart.

It clenched thinking about the fact she was half-fae. But it clenched harder thinking about that half-fae moving on when she got her door like Elira had .

The way she’d looked when Elira’s door appeared—her eyes wide with wonder and fear, her lips parted in awe—had stirred something protective and desperate inside me. She would get her door too, eventually. All she needed was to find peace, to understand who had killed her and why.

Part of me wanted that for her. Wanted her to find the answers that would lead her to her mother, to whatever awaited beyond that shimmering doorway.

But another part—a selfish, broken part—never wanted that door to appear.

Because when it did, she would leave. And I would remain, returning to my eternal duty in the shadows, alone once more.

But I knew she couldn’t stay. Every moment she remained was a danger she’d be reaped from this life.

A soul extinguished for good, and a soul too beautiful to perish into oblivion.

She could never be mine. This life could never be ours.

I understood it, as painful as that truth was, but still.

.. all I could focus on was the memory of her lips against mine in the forest. The way she’d felt in my arms, warm and alive and wanting.

The taste of her—rain and sweetness and something uniquely her—haunted me in quiet moments.

It was all I could do not to pull her into shadow-filled corners, to press her against walls and claim that mouth as my own.

And the way she looked at me sometimes—a lingering glance across a crowded room, a flutter of lashes, that small smile she reserved only for me—told me she was thinking of it too.

But neither of us had said anything. What was there to say? She was a soul seeking her door. I was the Reaper who should have ended her existence. We were never meant to be anything to each other.

And now this revelation—that she was half-fae—complicated things even further .

Her eyes lifted, meeting mine with a knowing smile. “You’re staring.”

I looked away, uncomfortable with being caught. “Just thinking.”

“About what?”

About you.

“This list,” I said instead. “It’s our only lead. If your name is on it, we need to know why—and who else they’re targeting. That can help us find the common thread.”

She nodded, pushing away from the table to stand beside me at the window. “You still think Prince Alaric is behind it? That his advisors are just following orders?”

“It would make sense. Clear away all potential rivals before his coronation.”

“But why would I be a rival? I didn’t even know this world existed until I died.”

I shrugged. “Perhaps they feared you might discover your heritage and return to make a claim. Fae are ruthless and play the long game when it comes to power.”

“And how would I be connected to the Storm Court at all? Is it possible my father was—” She hesitated, searching for the right words.

“Could he have been a Realm Walker who met my mother in the Mortal Realm, and then later, Lord Cassius was sent to eliminate me? Or is it possible its...” She closed her eyes for a beat like the thought was too painful to process.

“Is it possible Lord Cassius is my father?”

My heart clenched at the hurt in her eyes as they searched mine for answers I didn’t have. All I could do was answer, “It’s possible.”

“We need that list,” she said with renewed determination. “Or we could just grab Lord Cassius tonight and rip the answers from him. ”

I shook my head. “Too risky. If someone realizes he’s missing before morning, the castle will go on lockdown. They’ll search every room. And if we get caught interrogating a royal...” I let the implication hang. “We’d never get back in to finish this. We need to be smart about this.”

“So we find the list first,” she said slowly, “get as much information as we can...”

“Then we grab him. Once we know what we’re dealing with, we can plan the interrogation properly. Make sure we have somewhere secure to take him where we won’t be interrupted.” My eyes darkened. “Where I can take my time getting every answer.”

I hated how much I loved the dark look that filled her eyes. “I love it. We have a plan. Now we need to figure out how to get to that list.”

“I’ve been thinking about that.” I turned to fully face her. “Tonight is the final celebration before tomorrow’s coronation. The castle will be hosting the grand fireworks display. Everyone will be in the gardens or on the balconies, watching the sky.”

Understanding dawned in her eyes. “The perfect time to search Lord Cassius’s chambers.”

I nodded. “The servants will be busy attending the guests. The guards will be focused on the crowd. I’ll slip away during the commotion.”

“Perfect.” She smiled, that spark of adventure lighting her eyes. The expression made something twist in my chest—a sensation both painful and pleasant. “I’ll create a distraction if needed.”

“Let’s hope that won’t be necessary.”

“Still.” Her smile widened. “I’m getting pretty good at this whole spy thing, don’t you think? Soraya Peterman, Nursing Student and International Woman of Mystery. ”

I didn’t understand the reference, but her lightness was contagious. The corner of my mouth twitched despite my best efforts to maintain my stoic expression.

She caught it immediately. “Was that almost a smile, Reaper? Careful. People might think you’re enjoying yourself.”

“Gods forbid,” I muttered, but there was no heat in it.

Her laugh, bright and genuine, filled the space between us.

For a moment, I could almost forget the impossible complications of our situation—that she was half-fae, that I was a Reaper who had spent centuries hating her kind, that any connection between us was doomed from the start because I was also the Reaper sent to erase her.

Almost.

Every moment I spent with her made me forget that she’d eventually get her door. That any second now she’d find peace and it would crack open, taking her away from me. She’d been dead over a week now, though, and we’d always been told after two weeks, if a soul hadn’t moved on, it wouldn’t.

I felt the clock ticking faster now.

But then that new information came spiraling back into my mind.

Elira’s door had appeared after her scheduled day for reaping.

It flew in the face of everything I’d been taught.

How could she move on after weeks as a ghost, when I’d been told that was impossible?

How many souls had I reaped who might have found peace if given more time?

Not that I cared about those fae I’d sent into oblivion.

They were fae after all, and no fae deserved the happiness of an afterlife.

Though Elira had been nice, I supposed. Or did she only move on because of our meddling in her afterlife, helping her find peace she wouldn’t have achieved without us?

The questions and pressures and realities of our situation crushed me like the jaws of a Voltmauler had gotten ahold of me .

She was half-fae. Her door might come. And perhaps the worst fear of all... what if it didn’t? What if...