Page 108 of Reaper’s Curse

Shaking my head, I held back a laugh, and against the gentle protest of my body, I pushed to a sit. I crossed my stretched legs out in front of me and leaned back on my spread arms.

The castle overflowed with life and preparations for the upcoming celebration. A birthday ball for a long-missing prince. Staff hung banners, strung lights, and planted autumn-colored flowers to line the main walk.

A murder of crows collected on the various rooftops, overseeing the endeavor. I didn’t know if it was the activity they watched or me.

I turned a lazy gaze to Lucas and Neive, who both continued to lie flat, ogling the sky. “Would you mind if I invited a friend to join us, if only for a moment?”

“What? Who?” they mumbled.

I smiled and raised an extended arm in silence.

A flurry of feathers brought the darkened palace rooftop to life, but only one bird broke from the mass and flew straight for me. A large, black raven. He landed deftly on my offered arm, avoiding my bandaged hand, and croaked.

Lucas and Neive bolted upright and scuttled back an inch or two.

Lucas gasped. “How did you⁠—”

“You’re the reason they’re always on the terrace making a mess!” Neive said, not appearing remotely upset, merely dumbfounded.

“Sorry.” I turned to the bird on my arm and whispered, “Are you keeping my secrets safe?”

The bird croaked.

Lucas curled his legs beneath him and leaned forward. “What secrets?”

I teased him with a grin. “If I told you, they wouldn’t be secrets anymore, would they?”

“No, I guess you’re right.” He folded his hands in his lap. “So, is it safe to say that your goddess mojo is the ability to commune with creatures of the feathery type?”

I snorted. “Um. No. The birds and I are just friends. And besides,”—I dropped my voice to a whisper—“I told you that wasn’t my mojo.”

Based on Winter’s reaction after inhaling what was burrowed within me, Lucas suggested I had goddess-level magic. But it had been Winter’s own magic he had inhaled and gotten high on. His power, not mine. I hoped to merciful death that another couldn’t easily inhale reaper power.

“Right.” Lucas nodded, his eyes darkening as his thoughts likely shifted to the prince, his magical inebriation, and four-day detox.

The raven croaked, pulling my attention back to the bird.

“I haven’t forgotten my promise to you,” I said. “To give you a name. What do you think of the name Poe?”

“Gonk.” The black bird nodded twice.

“Then it’s settled. Poe it is. Pleasure to officially meet you, Poe.” I dipped my head.

The raven mimicked my head motion and gonked a second time.

“You sweet liar,” Lucas said. “If you aren’t communicating with the bird right now, I don’t know what to make of the scene unfolding before me.”

I tossed him a humored smirk but chose not to respond and instead returned my attention on Poe.

“Can you do me a favor?” I asked my feathery friend, while gliding a gentle finger along the bird’s back. “Can you and the gang over there…”—I tilted my head toward the crow-covered rooftops—“keep an eye on Chace for me?”

“Croak.”

“Thank you,” I whispered, then noticed a vision of white in the distance.

Winter was staring but made no effort to approach or even move any closer. With a slight smile and a tip of his head, he turned and strode back into the palace.

Odd. Was he avoiding me for some reason?