Текст книги "Wicked Is the Reaper"
Автор книги: Nisha J. Tuli
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WICKED IS THE REAPER
Copyright © 2022 by Nisha J Tuli
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission except in the case of brief quotations used in critical articles or reviews. This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, organizations, places, events, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
For information contact : http://www.nishajtuli.com/
Cover design by Get Covers
ISBN: 978-1-7781269-1-8
First Edition: April 2022
10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2
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Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright Page
Dedication
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
About the Author
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To the girls who think the villain is kind of hot.
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Chapter One
Twenty-three potential suitors stalked into the forest, each with the promise of a crown and a bride in their sights. They were an adequate, if uninspired, lot.
Standing at the tree line next to my sister, our mother and father flanked us on either side, our castle at our backs. They had forbidden us from entering the forest when we were children. The tales of the Reaper who haunted the trees pierced our dreams, leaving us lying awake and blinking in the dark. As we grew older, we still kept our distance, fearing the evil that rooted in its soil.
“Ellis looks so handsome today,” my sister said in a wistful voice as she clung tightly to my arm. Two years my junior, Margaret would never share my fate. “You’re so lucky, Rowan.” My answering smile was tight as we both watched the man in question disappear into the dense trees.
For twenty-five years, I’d awaited this day. From the moment I’d been old enough, I understood the Hunt would be the arbiter of my future. Today I’d be bound by fate, by circumstance, by the order of my birth, to the man I would marry and the man who would rule as king of Aetherus.
When the Fae had colonized our kingdom centuries ago, they’d left behind not only the blemish of their rule, but a decree—the Hunt would decide the betrothal of any royal first-born daughter. It was the way they had always done it in their own world, and we were to follow the same archaic rules that would see me handed over to a man without my say.
It had never been clear to me why the Fae cared at all, but I suspected it was to remind everyone who held the balance of our lives in their hands. Now, we’d wait here for hours as my stable of potential grooms hunted, killed, and delivered the largest stag to the feet of the king.
My father reached over and squeezed my hand, his smile gentle. “Don’t worry, my love. Ellis will have this.” Still clinging to my tight smile, I turned to my mother, who clasped my other hand in hers, her expression meant to be reassuring. We all bore the same dark hair, light brown skin, and deep brown eyes. My mother, Margaret, and I were near images of each other.
Everyone knew Ellis was the best hunter in Aetherus and though it wasn’t a guarantee, today’s odds swayed mostly in his favor. We’d been friends since we were children and had both understood this wasn’t just my fate, but his as well. Ellis was handsome and kind and patient. I couldn’t have asked for a better match. What we lacked in passion, we made up for with respect, friendship, and a mutual desire to do right by the people we’d rule.
Anyone in Aetherus was eligible to participate, but the resources and training needed were the privilege of only the wealthy. Despite the confidence in the Hunt’s outcome, every eligible noble-born son in the kingdom had, nevertheless, arrived to throw in their lot. After all, their prize was a princess and a crown to go with it.
Even if there was an upset and someone else proved victorious, I knew these men. Had known them for years and none interested me either. Maybe some small part of me wished an unexpected suitor had shown up to try their luck, but I kept that errant thought to myself.
“How much longer?” I asked as the sun was setting, my feet tired from standing, my fingers numbing from the cold. I strained for the sounds that would signal anyone returning, praying this would be over soon. This entire spectacle was demeaning.
Behind us stood the whole of my father’s court, quietly waiting. Casting a look over my shoulder, I caught their anxious glances. What did they have to be worried about? I was the one being handed off like a dog-eared book at the market.
With a frown, I turned away, my breath fogging in the air. As the hours wore on, the temperature dropped. It was nearing the end of autumn, the chill of winter’s breath on the wind.
The leaves rustled, drawing my attention back to the trees. A man emerged with a dead stag draped across his shoulders. Hunched over from the weight, his steps were measured and steady. He crossed the tree line, stopped several feet from where we stood and dropped the stag on the ground.
He was a son of a lesser noble. Tyrion was his name, if memory served. He was a few years older, handsome in a classical if predictable way, but he was just window dressing. The stag was small by the standards of this forest, and he would pose no threat to my future.
A group of Fae-appointed overseers approached and began measuring, weighing, and cataloguing his kill for posterity. They would scrutinize everything to ensure we had followed their rules to the letter of the law.
When they were done, Tyrion stood and waited, his hands clasped behind his back as he cast surreptitious looks my way. More figures emerged from the trees, each one bearing their kill.
Every time another man appeared, my breath hitched as I anticipated a familiar head of dark brown hair. Ellis was the right choice for me. His family was influential, and he would make a good king. I didn’t need that furious longing I’d read about in my favorite romance novels. Those were just stories. That wasn’t real.
More suitors emerged from the trees, some of them looking decidedly less princely than they had this morning. Not every one of them would make it back alive. Stag hunting was dangerous, after all. That was the whole point of this barbaric tradition.
More and more hunters arrived, each dropping their bloody prize to be weighed and measured. The cloying smell of death and the forest’s life taken hung in the air.
“Where is he?” Margaret asked, her brow furrowing. “I hope nothing happened to him.”
I shared my sister’s concern, worried Ellis had met with an accident. Even if he was the most skilled, that didn’t make him immune to the spear of a stag’s antler through his gut.
“He’ll be here,” my mother said, focusing on the forest. “Don’t worry. Everything will be fine.”
I nodded, doing my best to believe her when, finally, I spied a figure I recognized through the trees. My heart leapt in relief as Ellis trudged out of the forest with an enormous stag across his broad shoulders. He peered up through a fringe of dark lashes, throwing me a confident smile.
No, our relationship wasn’t about lust or passion, but he was stable and loyal and would make a fine husband. That was better. That’s what a queen needed.
He dropped his stag in the line and then straightened with a grin, his bright blue eyes sparkling. Blood covered his tunic, and there was a splash on his cheek, but otherwise he was whole. Looking down the row, it was obvious his kill was the largest, and I breathed a sigh of relief. Despite everything, he was still my first choice.
The overseers tabulated the numbers, assessing Ellis’s stag. When they were done, they scurried to my father, all of them moving to the side to speak in soft whispers. Two hunters hadn’t made it back, and now it was time to decide the victor.
My mother and I exchanged a glance before I looked over at Ellis and gave him a tentative wave.
When my father finished conferring, he strode over with a beaming smile, his arms wide, ready to embrace his new son and welcome him to our family. “Ellis—”
“Not so fast,” came a low, rumbling voice through the trees.
Every head turned to the sound as a figure emerged. It was enormous, wearing a long black cloak that brushed nearly to the ground, covered in thick shaggy fur. Its boots struck the earth with the cadence of a dirge as it approached, walking straight to where I stood with my family. Covered with a hood, its head was bent low with the weight of its enormous burden.
With a grunt, the figure heaved the biggest stag I’d ever seen off its shoulders and dropped the carcass at my feet with a resounding thud.
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Chapter Two
I stared at the dead animal, trying to fit my thoughts together, but shock dissolved them like sugar spun thread.
“The Reaper,” my mother whispered, her hand gripping mine so tight my fingers went numb. Margaret screamed, ducking behind me as my father stepped forward, shielding us both with his arm.
“What is the meaning of this?” he asked in his most commanding voice.
The figure then looked up. It wore a matte black mask in the shape of a leering skull, its row of menacing teeth flashing gold. It was the specter of death. A vision to make you believe in the possibility of all your worst fears.
We all knew the stories—nightmares charged with tales of the Reaper and what he did to those he dragged into the forest. The dead girls we’d found over the years. Their hearts ripped from their chests, their vacant eyes staring at the sky, their mouths open with the last screams they’d never utter.
“I’m competing for the hand of the princess,” the Reaper said, his voice like rusty chains dragged over stone. He spat the word ‘princess’ like it was an embittered curse he’d found amongst a heap of garbage. I took a step back from the force of it, where I bumped into Margaret, who squeaked as I trod on her foot.
This monster wanted to marry me?
“You can’t,” my father said, drawing himself up.
The grotesque mask swung to me and then back to my father. The only thing visible was a pair of dark, glittering eyes, sharp as knife points. He tipped his head like a wolf scenting prey, the movement so feral it was as though the forest had born him straight from its roots. “Is it not the right of every citizen in Aetherus to compete in the Hunt, Your Majesty?”
My father’s chin quivered, and his hands balled into fists. “Yes...” He stopped, searching for an answer that failed to materialize. “But you didn’t enter this morning. You must enter.”
“Actually,” one overseer remarked, raising a bony finger. “That is merely a courtesy. It isn’t part of the rules.”
My father’s nostrils flared, a muscle ticking in his jaw. He threw the overseer a murderous glare, and the man swallowed, perhaps realizing he’d just enjoyed his final moments on this plane.
The Reaper took a step closer, and a collective hush whipped around the clearing like autumn leaves kicked up on the wind. My father wasn’t a small man, but the Reaper towered over him. “Record my stag,” the Reaper said.
Huffing out deep, angry breaths, my father faced off with the Reaper, his cheeks red, and his eyes wild. The overseer, who had spoken up, took a tentative step forward, bowing to the king who, after a moment, gave a strained nod.
My father had no choice, I realized. These were the rules of the Hunt. Failure to comply would bring down the wrath of the Fae and their wanton brutality.
The overseer dashed forward, stretching out his measuring tape as his helpers heaved the stag onto the scale. This was pointless, though. Anyone with eyes could see the Reaper’s stag overshadowed the rest. I exchanged a look with Ellis. Held in a trance, he finally snapped and strode forward, his shoulders set with purpose.
He grabbed my arm and pulled me close, staring at the Reaper, whose grotesque mask seemed to grow more animalistic with each passing second. The demon’s eyes flicked back and forth between us, and if I hadn’t known any better, I’d swear they simmered with amusement.
I huddled closer to the man I was supposed to marry, suddenly wanting to be nowhere else but safe and cherished in his arms. This was where I belonged. Ellis pulled me tight, whispering reassurances in my ear.
Finished with their task, the overseers stood and faced the king.
“This...contestant’s stag is the largest by several orders, Your Majesty. Unless there are any other claimants—” he paused, sucking in an audible breath “—the Reaper is the winner of the princess’s hand.”
A cry rose around the clearing as my entire future dissolved into a puff of ashes at my feet.
“No!” Ellis said, wrapping his arms around me. “No, I will not allow this.”
My father studied us both, grim resignation in his expression.
“This monster cannot be the king!” Ellis cried, pointing at the Reaper. “You cannot mean to go through with this.”
“I have no desire to be a king,” the Reaper snarled through the mask, his voice darker than the pits of the underworld from which he came. “I’m taking her with me.”
At that, my knees turned to jelly. It was one thing to be in the castle surrounded by my friends and family, but to be alone with him out in the forest? I’d be dead before the sun rose.
“You will not!” my father said, the words fused with molten rage. “She belongs here.” He looked at his feet and then back up, rolling his shoulders before he grabbed an overseer by the collar of his robe. “Find a loophole in the rules. Something. Rowan is not going anywhere.”
The overseers were already perusing the documents, conferring in hushed voices. But the same overseer who’d spoken earlier shook his head. “I’m sorry, Your Majesty. There is nothing preventing him from taking her. He has won, as per the rules of the Hunt.”
“There must be something,” my father hissed, towering over him. “Find something.”
Ellis held me tighter, as though he could leash the trembling in my limbs.
“I’m sorry, Your Majesty,” the overseer whispered, his voice quivering. “We can keep looking, but by the decree, the princess now belongs to the Reaper.”
My mother covered her mouth while it opened in a soundless scream. “Gerald, you must do something,” she sobbed. “Rowan cannot... she...” My mother trailed off as her eyes found the Reaper, who stood silently waiting for us all to come to terms with what I already understood. He knew his rights; I was his prize. No one could question that.
His gaze found me, those endless black eyes burning with the promise of my ruin, and I shivered. What did he plan to do with me?
My father groaned in frustration and ran a hand down his face. “There’s nothing I can do.” His words held the strain of a razor-fine edge.
He looked at me with a significance that traversed the space between us. All our hopes and dreams were gone. Everything we’d planned and wished for was over, dead and buried in the cold, hard ground. I had no choice. “I’m sorry, Rowan,” he said with so much heartache, it wove into my soul, where I feared it would live forever. “This is never what I wanted for you. I should have taken precautions, but I never thought—”
Ellis pulled me closer, his arms like iron bands. “You can’t mean to go through with this,” he said, his voice cracking. “Your Majesty.”
I shook my head and pulled his arm away. “I have to,” I said softly. “If I don’t, the Fae will come. I can’t let that happen to any of you.”
“Rowan,” Ellis said, cupping my face in his hands. There was something eternal in his gaze. The buried promise of the future we would never have. “I’ll come for you,” he vowed. “I’ll find some way to get you out of this bargain. I swear it.”
I nodded, sure that was a promise he couldn’t keep.
“While this is all very touching,” the Reaper said, his tone mocking and bored, “we should get going before the sun sets any further.”
The bastard didn’t even care that he’d just destroyed my life.
He stepped forward, his heavy boots crunching through the leaves. Holding a rope, he grabbed both my wrists in one of his large, gloved hands and wrapped it around them.
“What are you doing?” I asked in shock. “I’m not an animal to be trussed up and dragged into the forest.”
He secured my wrists with a knot. “That’s where you’re wrong, Princess.”
“Rowan!” my mother screamed before the Reaper tugged me so hard I stumbled.
“It’s okay, Mother. I’ll be okay.” I didn’t believe that for one second, but what else could I say? Tears ran down her cheeks while my father clutched her. Margaret buried her face against my father’s chest, sobbing.
Ellis moved in front of me as the Reaper yanked on my binding again. “I’ll come for you,” he vowed. “Be strong.”
He turned to the Reaper. “If you hurt her, I’ll cut out your heart myself and feed it to the palace dogs, and that would still be too noble an end for you.”
The Reaper issued a derisive snort. “I’d like to see you try, lordling.”
A vein in Ellis’s forehead popped, and I swallowed, trying to hold in my tears. I knew Ellis would try, but in my heart, I understood it was impossible.
“Come on, Princess,” the Reaper said, his voice bearing a deadly purr that suggested if I didn’t comply soon, he’d make us all sorry.
After stealing one last look at my stricken family, he tugged me again. I stumbled after, following him into the forest and into my nebulous future.
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Chapter Three
We walked for what felt like hours, the sun sinking over the horizon and the stars glittering overhead. I’d never been this deep in the forest, and all I could see were miles of trees in every direction. Everything looked the same—a wall of green marking the boundaries of my prison.
Swerving confidently between the trees with the sinuous grace of a serpent, the monster to which I was tethered clearly knew exactly where he was going. His focus aimed at the path we trod, I stared at the wide expanse of his back, trying to obliterate him with the heat of my sizzling rage. But he continued unharmed, his long cloak fluttering in the air like the angel of death.
The fabric of my dress snagged on the brambles and branches, shredding the delicate silk into ribbons. I stumbled over my tired feet, but the Reaper never slowed his pace. I got the sense he wouldn’t hesitate to drag me across the forest floor until my skin peeled off my bones if I fell. I harbored no illusions he’d entered the Hunt because he wanted to set up a home and make me his wife.
Ahead of us, an expansive range of rocky hills loomed, their tops dusted with browning greenery. They stretched for miles in either direction, forming a barrier symbolizing the divide between the future I’d been assured and the fate that now awaited.
As we drew closer, I noted a small opening that allowed us to pass through unheeded. I breathed a sigh of relief, knowing my delicate slippers would never survive the climb.
My stomach rumbled in hunger, and my throat crackled with thirst. It had been hours since we’d left the castle. I wondered what Margaret and my mother were doing right now. Was Ellis poring through texts, searching for a way to get me out of this? My father was likely ordering every one of his advisors to get me back.
But the decree was binding. The Fae had seen to that a long time ago. My only means of escape were death or the Reaper’s release of his claim on my life. But this monster hadn’t brought down the largest stag in the forest just to let me go.
No, I was his forever, no matter his reasons.
Just when I didn’t think I could walk any farther, the trees parted, and a gentle hill rose across a small grassy plain. At the top stood a battered stone castle, looking like a single incisor left in a gaping, toothless smile.
I shook my head, unable to believe this sight, stunned to find such a dwelling in the forest. Where had it come from? Who had once ruled here? The battlements were cracked and worn, the shattered windows like vacant eye sockets watching our approach.
Though it looked uninhabited, I understood with mounting dread, this was to be my new home.
The Reaper pulled me up the length of the well-trodden switchback to the massive wooden gate. He heaved one open with the heft of his shoulder, just enough that we could both slip inside.
Green moss grew over a small courtyard covered with cracked flagstones, many of them missing. Moonlight glinted off the smoothed, worn surfaces, and I could taste the eternal silence permeating the walls.
More moss muffled my footsteps as we crossed the space and entered another door at the far end. Pulling me inside a small room, The Reaper locked the entrance behind me. The only illumination came from a few small windows set high in the walls.
I surveyed the area, my eyes adjusting to the gloom. There was a beaten wooden table in the center, surrounded by three equally beaten chairs. Beyond that was a huge fireplace lining the wall, the hearth burning low. In the corner was a countertop and several cupboards that served as a kitchen, and in another corner was a large, neatly made bed.
As my gaze traveled across every angle, what I saw on the opposite wall made my blood run cold.
A cage.
The Reaper tugged on my rope, pulling me toward it, and I yanked my hands back. “I’m not going in there!” I shouted, digging my heels into the stone floor. My delicate slippers offered no grip, and I slid like I was being dragged over warmed butter. I fought with every ounce of strength I could, but he didn’t even seem to be trying.
“Please! I won’t run. I promise.” He pulled the rope so hard that I tripped and crashed into him. He was all muscle, as hard and unforgiving as iron. Before I landed on the ground, a large, gloved hand grabbed my upper arm and hauled me up to a standing position. “I’ll stay put,” I said again, and the Reaper let out a derisive snort that suggested he wasn’t about to buy that.
With his enormous hand still wrapped around my arm, he shoved me through the door of the cage. My skirts tangling, I crashed into the far wall, my bound hands scraping the stone and my cheek grazing the surface. I winced at the sting when it broke my skin.
The cage door slammed with a metallic clang and then a click signaled the last remnants of my freedom, of my future, vaporizing into mist.
Wrapping my fingers around the bars, I shook them. “Let me out!” I shouted as loud as I could, but I might as well have been talking to a wall for all the attention the Reaper paid me.
After screaming for a minute, to no avail, I fell silent, deciding it was pointless. Instead, I watched the Reaper as he moved around the room, that hideous skull mask swinging from side to side.
Though he had an entire castle at his disposal, it seemed he’d confined his life to only this room. He stoked the fire, the glow of orange flames offering more light and warming my numb fingers and toes.
Not taking my eyes off him, I watched as he pulled off his cloak and hung it on the wall. He then removed the thick overcoat underneath, revealing a black tunic. He appeared to be shaped like a human, his broad shoulders tapering to a narrow waist and thick, muscular thighs.
With his back facing me, he unbuckled the mask he wore, and I held my breath, prepared for the very worst. What horrors lurked beneath the mask of a creature known as the Reaper? After pulling it off, he shook out a head of wavy black hair that fell past his shoulders.
Curious, I stepped closer to my bars, watching while he removed his gloves and unbelted his weapons, dropping them all into a chest at the foot of his bed, which he then locked, stuffing the key in his pocket.
Then he stopped and stood stock still, as if feeling my eyes boring into him. He whipped around and I leapt back, again crashing into the wall behind me.
He was...normal? Almost normal, anyway, but for the line of dark markings that ran down the side of his face and throat and disappeared into his collar.
He smirked, apparently enjoying my distress, before he turned away and headed to the kitchen, where he opened the cupboards, retrieving plates, a loaf of bread, a hunk of cheese and thick slices of roasted beef. He deposited them on the table and then went to retrieve a pitcher of water, pouring two glasses.
It was then I noticed it.
He appeared normal, yes, but also not quite of this world. His skin bore a sheen, a near iridescence, his ears sweeping into delicate points. The way he moved like water flowing over river-worn stones marked him as anything but human.
“You’re Fae,” I whispered. “You’re one of them.” He looked over, the crescents of his dark eyes reflecting in the flickering fire, and grunted. “I don’t understand. Why do you live out here?”
Ignoring my question, he continued his chores. While he worked, I examined my cage, noting the bare stone floor, absent of even a stool to sit on.
“You’re going to keep me here like an animal?” I asked, my fury cresting. “Why do you have a cage in your home? The Reaper is a filthy Fae?” I spat the last word out with as much venom as I could muster, which finally secured his attention.
“Watch your mouth, Princess.” His voice, no longer muffled by the mask, was still deep and rough, but less guttural.
“I will not! Why do you have a cage here? Who else have you locked up? Where are they?”
He stopped what he was doing and pinned me with a dark look. “You sure you really want the answer to that, Princess?”
I hesitated. Did I?
“Don’t worry, they weren’t all human,” he said before he turned his back to me again. The proof of his statement was obvious from the state of the floor. It was filthy in here.
“You’re really going to leave me in here like this? This is disgusting.” Tossing me a smirk, he pulled out a chair and sat down, pulling a plate of food toward him. “You won’t be in there long.”
While those words sounded promising on the surface, I knew not to trust them.
“Who are you?” I asked. “Why do they call you the Reaper?” The answer to that question wasn’t one I was sure I wanted either, but I was here now and information might be the only weapon I had.
He shook his head, his lip curling in the corner. “I’m not the Reaper,” he said, biting into a chunk of cheese. “The thing you humans call the Reaper is actually an ogre and lives somewhere deep in the woods.”
I blinked. There were two monsters haunting the forest?
“Why does everyone call it the Reaper, then?”
The Fae-who-wasn’t-the-Reaper arched a dark eyebrow. “Obviously, because it kills everything it sees. Not very clever, are you, Princess?”
I narrowed my gaze as he tore into a piece of bread and chewed slowly, savoring it along with the bitter tang of my distress.
“If you’re not the Reaper, what do you want with me?” Another question and another answer I probably wouldn’t like hung in the air like a rancid phantom.
“You’re going to help me catch it,” he said, casually taking a sip of water. My gaze followed the bob of his throat as he swallowed, and I licked my dry lips. His eyes darkening, he stared at me, his words collaring me around the throat with dread.
“How am I supposed to help you catch it?”
A grin stretched across his face. It marked him as something wild and feral, not entirely of this world. Something that refused to be tamed, no matter the shape of the whip.
“You’re the bait, Princess.
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