Page 101 of The Reaping Rose

Elorie glances at Perame, then down at herself.

“Gross. She thinks we’re—” Perame’s nose wrinkles as she points her finger between the three of us. “No, thank you.”

Perame sweeps me with a final look of disgust, and I can’t help but chuckle when I know she has absolutely no interest in me or Elorie. Especially not since she’s been spending so much time around Seren in the human wing at the palace.

“Last night I heard talk of a parade that will go through town at daybreak. Some sort of celebration for their summer harvest.” I shrug on a cloak. “Maybe the overlord will be there.”

Elorie laces her boot, glancing up at me. “If not, the more people, the more likely we’ll overhear something.”

Elorie and Perame finish their boots and toss cloaks over their shoulders. When we step into the hallway, it’s still dark, and Elorie winks as we pass the room next door. They’re even louder now. Slapping flesh and screams echo down the hall.

“Just saying,” she mouths.

I shake my head and look away. Not embarrassed, simply uninterested.

It’s not that I’ve never bedded a human. I’ve had my fair share of humans and Fae over the centuries. Looking back, I can’t remember when that changed. When I stopped trying. When this weight settled in my chest, and the thought of taking someone to bed had dread pooling inside me.

A few years back, on a trip to Ruse Village, I downed enough wine to think I’d gotten over it. A pretty Fae from the Guard had been flirting with me all night. She stripped bare the moment we were alone, and with how long it’d been since I’d lost myself in another, I wanted to be lost in her. But the moment her fingers grazed my skin, something surged.

A resistance I couldn’t shake.

Visceral repulsion.

Disgust I couldn’t mask.

I don’t know where it came from, but it was so potent I immediately pulled away.

She left the tent with tears in her eyes when it wasn’t her fault. I sat for hours on the beach, leaving on the first ship the next day to return to Alyssium. I stopped trying to connect with anyone after that. It was easier on everyone to just accept that I’m broken.

When we step outside, the sun has yet to rise, leaving the streets mostly empty. Elorie takes in everything with complete awe. For Elorie and the rest of the villagers’ sake, I hoped we’d find something better than what we’ve seen so far of the Mortal Realm. How can we send them to this place when half the town is boarded up, and trees rot in the forest?

As the sun starts to rise, we linger at the edge of town, keeping to the trees to blend into the shadows. Our hoods cover our ears as people gather for the parade. We hang back, out of sight.

“Do you think the overlord will be here?” Elorie leans against a tree, watching the people arrive.

I observe the crowd. “It seems everyone in town is here. We need to keep a lookout.”

“Maybe we don’t have to search that hard after all.” Perame urges her chin to the commotion gathering in the streets.

A carriage pauses at the fork in the road, drawing attention. The man up front stands, waving with a broad smile on his face. His finely fitted suit is nicer than what anyone in the crowd is wearing. At his side sits the woman from the crypt.

In the light of day, the dark veins webbing down one side of her face are even more obvious. They’re pitch black, drawing lines across her porcelain skin in a way that reminds me of Hazel’s magic moving up her arms, although the void feels entirely different. For a female with such rich color in her gaze, there’s nothing bright about this woman in front of us. Her smile is cold as she glances at the overlord. Her body is stiff.

A pulse in the air thickens as she watches the crowd, not looking nearly as comfortable as the overlord, who basks in attention.

I prepared myself for this trip, for harnessing such an object and containing it. Except the void is not an object at all, and feeling it now, it’s nothing like Hazel’s shadows, so I doubt I would have the same effect anyway. The pulse radiating out of this human is unlike anything I’ve felt.

“That must be Overlord Farseth.” Perame’s eyes narrow.

He removes his hat, showing off the gray patches at his temples. He’s older than I expected. His eyes are bright and wide, but there’s a certain darkness in his gaze. Wrinkles at the corners of his eyes put him close to Elorie’s father’s age.

“The innkeeper was right. She travels right at his side, it seems.” Elorie’s fingers thrum against the handle of her dagger as the carriage creeps closer.

It pauses every few feet, and townspeople surround it. Men walk beside them, passing out gifts that the crowd fights over.

Perame squints. “There’s something between them. I remember there being a tie in my vision, and it didn’t mean anything at the time, but now… the girl is bound to him. There’s a tie between the void’s wrist and the overlord.”

“I don’t see anything.” Elorie’s head tilts.