The Reaper's Curse #1 - Complete

Scars

"Get that medicine to the people who need it," Alicia orders, helping drag crates from the cart, the people of the Commons rushing to meet her. Oliver jumps down from the cart, moving to help her, but Alicia raises her hand, narrowing her gaze at him. "Not you. You're injured."

"I hit my head, I didn't break my damn arms," he replies, staring her in the eye as he grabs a crate and tugs it towards himself. Alicia slams a hand down on the wood, refusing to back down.

"I want you to go and get some rest. Thank you."

"You're incredibly frustrating, you know that, right?"

"And you're stubborn." She jerks her chin, directing him away from the manual labour. With all the eager hands reaching for the supplies, they don't need his help anyway. "I'll meet you back at the house." Alicia reaches for another crate as Oliver narrows his eyes at her. She heaves it into her arms, a gasp leaves her, her left arm buckles from the fire that crawls along her skin, and she has to set the crate back down before she drops it.

She hates the knowing look that sparks in his sterling gaze.

"Come on, let me look at your wound back at the house." He turns on his heel and walks, clearly expecting Alicia to follow him.

Glaring at his back, Alicia contemplates ignoring him, but as she roles her shoulder and sweat gathers in the hollow of her throat despite the chill air, she decides to let her pride slide and go after him.

Hazel eyes flick back to the supplies they got, crates full of much needed resources that'll help them survive. There was even a good stock of black powder, something David clearly used in his traps.

But also, there was the key. Lifting a hand, Alicia presses her palm to her shirt where the key rests against her skin on a leather cord. She doesn't know what it opens and a part of her doesn't want to know, still trying to tear herself from her grand ideas that only hurt people.

Going after the duke again could be a mistake. It could destroy what little she's managed to scavenge for herself, the tiny piece of the world she's taken back to call her own. It could ruin everything.

As her thoughts consume her, she steps through Oliver's door, her hand still covering the key under her shirt. Fingers brush her elbow and Alicia blinks up as Oliver watches her, head tilted and eyes shadowed.

"You look troubled," he observes.

"Just sore." She pastes a smile on her lips and drops her hand from the key, trying to ignore the warmth of the metal against her skin while deciding she needs a safe place to store it so she's not constantly reminded of the path she's decided to walk again. Or maybe she needs the reminder, needs to make certain she really wants to take this road again after what it's already cost her.

Her ma may have struck some sort of deal with the grand duke, but that doesn't mean they're safe from that man. No one's safe from him.

His gaze flicks between hers and the small flutter in his jaw tells her he wants to speak, but he doesn't. Instead, he turns towards the kitchen and gestures for her to sit by the table. The flowers Alicia had replaced in the vase on the table have wilted, the once vibrant red petals now wrinkled and dull. She doesn't know how much longer they'll be staying here to warrant changing them again.

As she sits, she unbuttons the top of her shirt and pulls it over her shoulder to reveal the bandage beneath, spots of blood darkening the white.

Oliver sets a chair down in front of her and lays out a satchel of supplies on the table, a small crease between his brows. She watches him as he picks up a pair of scissors, lifts an edge of her bandage with careful fingers, and begins cutting through it.