Remiel

I felt at home in this forest.

My first memory was of these woods, sitting in front of my father on his favorite steed, Grayhawk. The sky was bright and clear above us through the cracks in the canopy. My mother rode beside us, her belly visibly swollen with child. She rested one hand on the bump while she used her other hand to point out interesting sights in an attempt to keep me entertained. Our home near Lake Mara was over a dozen leagues away, and we had been journeying day and night to make it to the Haven before the full moon so that my father could meet with the king.

Later, I would come here as a half grown man, riding my own horse, my younger brother, Micah, riding in front of my father instead. My mother was far too pregnant and the twins, Ery and Elia, were far too headstrong and wild to keep up with on such a rigorous journey.

I would never admit it to her, but I preferred going to the Haven without my mother. Not because her presence was bothersome, but my father spoke far more openly and seriously without her. Talk of the war and looming dangers always upset her, but when it was just us, he treated me like a man, reminding me that one day, just like him and his father before him, I would don the Reaper's cloak and take my blades into battle for my kingdom.

But in all my dreams of war and glory, I never imagined riding into battle without him at my side.

"Are you okay?"

Morana's soft voice drew me out of my revelries, and I glanced down at her, a maelstrom of emotions rocketing through me–love, joy, protectiveness, desire, and fear. The last one grew stronger each time, bolstered by the icy white strands framing her pale face. Early on, I had been taught to be afraid of the Winter Women, but it wasn't fear of Morana that filled me. Instead, I feared for her. We were walking toward elves who wouldn't hesitate to strike her down without asking questions, and if history continued to repeat itself, I wouldn't be able to protect her.

I couldn't protect her.

"I'm fine."

Her lush lips pressed together and turned down. She grabbed my hand, running her finger along the scratch left there by Tievel's spell. The sight of the pale line angered me, but her touch stirred a desire that drowned it out. Knowing the bastard prince watched us from behind, I pulled my hand away reluctantly.

Hating the hurt that blossomed in her face, I asked, "Are you okay?"

My tone must have consoled her. The hurt vanished, but I could see something else simmering in her violet eyes. Rage. And from the tense way she held herself as she walked, I didn't have to guess who was responsible for it.

"We're going to figure out how to undo that spell."

"Morana..."

I sighed and rubbed the back of my neck. The spell bothered me less than anyone because I knew if I had the chance to end him, I would do it. Forfeiting my life was a small price to pay to keep her safe. To keep this world safe. All Tievel had accomplished with it had been to further show his hand as the villain. I only hoped she saw that.

"Don't Morana me," she muttered, pulling her cloak around her more tightly as a cold gust of wind whipped through the trees. Autumn had quickly given way to winter, and it wouldn't be long before snow made these roads impassable.

"Don't you think it would be better to speak to Cethin on the island? Surely, she's heard of such magic and will have ideas."

Twigs and gravel crunched sharply beneath her boots as she walked faster, her irritation with me fueling her hurried steps. Two sun cycles had passed since Tievel caught up to us as Vyta and bound me to him, and we had this exact conversation multiple times since then.

"Please, Remy. Not again."

"It's just a thought."

"It's a nice one, but we have to stop at the Haven. They're the only ones who might help Yoko."

She whispered the last part so quietly I almost didn't catch her words. The former Edreshian soldier walked far enough ahead that I doubted she would have overheard Morana speak in her normal voice, but it wasn't her we worried about overhearing. As far as I could tell, Yoko and Astreia had yet to speak to one another alone for more than a brief second or two. How much she had shared with Astreia, we didn't know, and it wasn't our place to tell her what had happened to the sea elf.

"What aren't you telling me?"

My mouth went dry, and my boots tangled together. The only thing that kept me from pitching forward was knowing Tievel would witness the fall. I was an idiot for thinking she wouldn't catch on and realize my thin excuses for not going to the Haven were just that–excuses.

"Are Deathsingers and Reapers not allies?"

"Well, yes–"

"And am I not the princess of Araphel? Would they dare deny me a place to rest? Or my people?"

"No, not usually."

"Then what the fuck is the problem?" she hissed through clenched teeth, the red spots on her cheek practically glowing in her pale skin.

I grabbed a handful of her hair and raised it up so she could see it. "This. This is the problem."

There it was again. That expression of hurt that opened a churning pit in my gut. I never wanted to see it on her face again, and I sure as fuck didn't want to be responsible for it.

"We'll explain it to them," she said without any of her previous fire in her voice.

"If we get the chance."

"What do you mean?"

I took her hand and pulled her to a stop. Astreia looked to me and then to Morana as she passed. There was no subtlety to their silent communication. I recognized when one female was making sure another didn't need help to silence a male. Thankfully, whatever she found in her Morana's expression eased her concern, and she pushed Dante ahead.

"Lover's quarrel?" Tievel asked with a sneer as he passed.

As he had been for the last two sun cycles, he toyed with the dagger in his hand, dragging the tip along his smooth palms. Everyone knew the bastard didn't need a blade to cause injury. This was purely for show.

Morana folded her arms over her chest. "Tievel, we're allowing your presence on our journey. No one agreed to have to suffer listening to you speak."

He flipped the dagger around and pressed the pointed end beneath her chin. I growled, but didn't make a move toward him. Punching him would be worth the pain right now, but I didn't dare risk an injury to Morana.

The smirk he wore was insufferable and entirely for me as he turned his attention back to her. "You wouldn't be trying to sneak off without me, would you? Because the deal is that I go with you. I don't care about the others."

"No. We are not sneaking off."

"Good." He pulled away. "Don't linger too long. I'd hate to have to punish anyone."

"I hate him," I snarled, grabbing her chin to check for a wound as he walked away. There was a faint red spot. Nothing more than a nick, but the fact he had marred her in any way made me want to tear him apart limb from limb.

She put her hand over mine and pulled it down. This time, I didn't let her go.

"He's not important right now. Tell me why you're so worried about going to the Haven. You can explain to them who I am. Tell them what happened. Surely, they can't blame me for it."

Bile rose in my throat. "Reapers operate under a kill on sight order with Banshees. Years ago, a Reaper brought one to the Haven, spinning a similar tale. That she hadn't meant to take the souls, and they let her in. That night she killed half a dozen Reapers before they took her down. She had consumed the soul of a vampyr and used its persuasion magic on the young Reaper."

"Oh."

"Right. But that's not all."

I dropped her hand and paced back and forth. For moon cycles, I had tried to find a way to tell her the truth, but it had never seemed that important. I wasn't even sure the Haven had survived, and if it had, I never expected to go back. Then, when the Brotherhood found me and took me in, I thought it didn't matter anymore. Their acceptance erased the sins of my past.

What a fool I had been.

She grabbed my face and searched my eyes with hers. Her love and compassion overwhelmed me. "What is it? You can tell me anything, Remy."

"Technically, I'm not..." I swallowed hard and tried to steady my breathing. "Technically, I'm not a Reaper."

Cold air rushed over my cheeks as she snatched her hands away. "W-what? I don't understand."

"I never went through the Rites."

"Oh. Is that all?" She relaxed and gave me a relieved smile. "You were young when the war ended, likely still in training. It's not like they can blame you for not being able to get through the fires to finish it. That's even more reason to go back. You can go through the Rites."

I was already shaking my head. "No, I can't. If I show my face, they'll arrest me."

Her eyes went wide. "For not taking the Rites?"

"For killing my father."