The King's Cursed Bride

Sentenced to Death

Rinka's chest heaved as her breathing became audible. "If I tell, you mustn't share."

"I promise."

Rinka glanced up, her dark eyes gleaming with the red light. "I'm from... other side."

Other side? The other side of what? A chill crawled over her skin. "You're from Esmeray."

Rinka bobbed her head.

The tremors started at her knees and worked their way up. Surely Esmerians were just like Nysians—ordinary people struggling through life's hardships. But could someone from a land of such darkness truly be untainted by it?

"Remember promise."

"I will." Well, Rinka hadn't done anything to harm her yet—aside from nearly frightening the life out of her. What could be the harm in speaking to her? "Does Akar know?"

"Yes. He bought me as slave from there."

Carissa pressed her hand to her mouth. Slavery? No wonder Esmeray was such a dark, horrid country. "That's terrible. I'm sure you're thankful there's no slavery here."

Rinka snorted. "Slavery not allowed, but is still here."

Carissa hadn't seen any, but perhaps Rinka was right. "So you've seen these in Esmeray?"

She nodded.

"But... you said Reapers do this. Reapers are assassins from Esmeray. Why would they hurt their own people?"

She lifted her dark shoulders. "They do what pleases and follow Reaper King's commands."

Carissa's heart thrummed furiously against her chest. The Reaper King? She'd once asked her parents about him after a little girl had told her that if she looked at her reflection in the pond and said "Reaper King" three times, the Reaper King would rip her face off and drown her. Her parents had hushed her inquiries, as if speaking of him would summon the Reaper King himself. "So they take the souls of their own people?"

"More slaves than people, but yes."

"And the Reaper King wants them to do this?"

"Yes. Without souls, Reaper King starves."

"But that's the King—what about a single Reaper? How can I stop it?"

Rinka began trembling. At first, Carissa thought she'd frightened her, but then a terrifically unladylike snort sounded from her, followed by a string of surprisingly deep, husky chuckles. She finally sighed. "That is why you come? To stop Reaper?"

Carissa straightened. "Our King is too weak and cowardly, so I must. If I don't, the city will be on lockdown forever, and we'll all die."

Rinka's sigh was so deep and melancholy that it seemed to pour out of her very being. "Oh, little doe." She lifted the two crimson beads higher, bathing her face in the sunset-colored light. Rinka clasped Carissa's shoulder with her free hand. "Know this. Never have I seen Reaper defeated or die. They are eternal and soul-thirsty. Even if no lockdown, Reapers eventually would come. They are darkness hunting down last light of day." She paused for three heartbeats, and when she resumed speaking, her voice was clearer than Carissa had ever heard it. "You were sentenced to death before you were even born."

***

Carissa slammed the door shut behind her and pressed her back into the wood.

Rinka was wrong. She'd been so long bathed in the darkness of Iver that she could no longer see the light.

But Carissa could. She would hunt down the Reaper until she breathed her last. But how many breaths did she have left?