Soul of the Crow: An Epic Dark Fantasy (Reapers of Veltuur Book 1)

trees. “They’ve stolen another child.”
For a moment, I become distracted. “Why would they do that?” But before he can answer, I shake my head, remembering why I’m here and how little time I might have. “Father, I saw Esabel in the courtbench—I mean the courtyard. Ha. Courtbench. That’s not a thing.” I clear my throat, trying to mend my fraying nerves so I can restart. “There was a bench in the courtyard and Esabel was sitting on it—”
“Get to the point, son.”
I loop a finger through the collar of my tunic and clear my throat again. Taking a deep breath, I try to settle my thoughts, slowing the words that are constantly trying to spill from me. “She was crying.”
“And?” he says, peering up at me from behind his tea.
It’s obvious he knows what I’m trying to build the courage to ask him, but as usual with him, he’s going to make me actually ask the question. To him, this is all part of my preparation. The future king needs to be able to use his words, something I struggle with daily.
I fidget with my ring, my hands in my lap. As I prepare the words behind my tongue, the pressure building in my chest, I bring my hands to the table, tracing the grooves of my own goblet. He sets his down and sits back in his chair, expectant and patient, if not annoyed. It suddenly feels like my hands are too vulnerable on the table, too idle. I run them through the length of my hair instead.
“Why did you let her go?” It’s not my full question, but it’s meant to be a precursor. A test of the waters that I’m surely about to drown in.
When he responds only with a raise of his brows, I force the rest out.
“Why doesn’t Gem need an Esabel—a nurse anymore?”
I think I’m holding my breath. I must be. It’s the only thing that explains why it feels like someone is pressing a boulder against my chest, making my head feel like it’s about to pop right off and fly into the clouds before it crashes all the way back down to reality. Please-please-please don’t let my father say what I think he’s going to say. Surely, he can’t be that heartless and cruel.
He folds his hands over the table, pinning me into my chair with his piercing, bushy-eyed gaze. “Your mother is no longer here to protect her. The girl cannot marry. She will never live a normal life. She will never be able to support herself. She is of no use to me, and she should’ve been dealt with the day she was born.”
“That girl is your daughter.”
“She is an abomination.”
“So, you hired a—a Reaper?” I say, breathless. If it weren’t for the chair beneath me, I would collapse. I can’t lose Gem too, not after everything.
“What else would you have me do? The Law of Mother’s Love has been with us since the dawn of time. We’ve disobeyed it long enough.”
It is a stupid, archaic law that will be abolished when I’m king. Despite my sister’s deformity, she and all of the others born like her deserve to live. In the years since her birth, I’ve seen her experience happiness and I’ve witnessed the joy she has brought others. It’s not true that she can’t ever marry; he can’t know that. She could be happy. She could live a long life and find purpose.
At least, this is the argument I would’ve made had I had the nerve to tell him he was wrong. But my father has a hold on me that I can’t explain, and so all I manage is, “When is it happening?”
He shifts uncomfortably in his chair. “Sometime today. I am not sure when. Reapers are not known for their punctuality.”
Tears sting their way to the corners of my eyes just as the royal tailor enters the room carrying a bundle of brightly colored fabrics.
“Now,” my father says in a hushed voice. “Put on a smile fit for a king.”
He stands and crosses the room to greet the man at the door, but I remain stuck in my chair like a pondering statue.
“Acari,” my father summons, only a hint of scolding in his tone. He’s good at this, at the show he has to put on every waking moment of his life and at the minute yet effective ways in which he knows how to manipulate me to do what he wants.
Under normal circumstances, his command would’ve worked. I would’ve felt chagrined enough by being chastised in front of our guest that I would’ve stood from my chair, donned a fake smile, and let the tailor do his job.
Only, today is anything but normal. My sister is going to die—my father has already submitted the irreversible order—and so my thoughts are everywhere but in this room.
I stand abruptly, my chair screeching against the floor.
“My apologies,” I say, cutting across the room and bowing deeply from the hip. “But I am feeling unwell. I beg your pardon.”
I’m out of the room before anyone can register what’s happened.

A Story Before You Go


Acari
Although I didn’t know where I was going when I first left the throne room, at some point I notice I’m headed toward Gem’s quarters. I say quarters, but it’s really more like a dungeon meant to keep her imprisoned and out of sight, the place she’s only rarely been allowed outside of. Will Gem die having only ever felt the sun on her skin a handful of times? Will she never know what the waves sound like as they crash along the Coast of Dreams, or see snowfall coming from the Ghamayan Mountains?
Tears pool behind my eyelids, blurring my vision and forcing me to blink. They fall freely down my cheeks.
Most of the people I pass in the halls notice my wet eyes and either avert theirs or cover their hearts with a sympathetic hand. They assume I’m still mourning my