The Reaper's Curse #1 - Complete

Whispers from Monsters

It's the numbness in her heart that concerns Alicia the most. The numbness is too familiar, too easy to fall back into like the embrace of a lover. It's the numbness that makes her want to weep, not the death of the woman who shaped her into the person she is now.

Alicia stares out of the window of her bedroom within the palace with eyes that itch from unshed tears. She promised herself she wouldn't cry today, not before the thousands of Muovean gazes that had watched her every move. And she's succeeded in that promise, until she realised she only succeeded because she's fallen back into old habits she thought long dead.

Numb fingers trace the condensation that gathers on the edges of the window as she watches the sun dip below those monstrous walls that surround Muovea, filled with dark things that few know about. She shouldn't know about it either, but Alicia made many mistakes six years ago that the Reaper continues to find ways to make her pay for.

She strolled into those tunnels as a half-starved girl, following the dreams of another because she had none of her own, and she left with a weight like a ball and chain strapped to her ankle. She hasn't spoken to anyone about what she saw down there after she revealed all to Elena. Alicia had hope that she'd forget with time, but after six years the memory of vibrant blue eyes and bared teeth is as raw as ever.

Alicia lowers her hand to her lap and gazes around her room, the furniture lush, the gold thread in the covers of her bed seeming to glow under the light of the candles. She doesn't feel the usual bubbling of awe in her chest. She feels nothing.

The past week has been a blur. A blur of putting the queen to rest, of answering countless questions, choosing which ones to answer truthfully, and waiting for her moment to act.

It feels as though the weight of Muovea is on her shoulders now. Without the queen and with her contacts in hiding, Alicia is alone in this fight.

Just as she was in the slums when her brothers and pa were at war.

Alicia dons her comfortable clothing, omitting the dresses and stays and dainty slippers that act as her armour in this palace. Instead she wears a tight tunic and trousers with dark leather boots. All dyed with expensive black. She pulls her hair back and takes a breath.

Tonight she'll find the truths the grand duke has been so desperately burying. Tonight she'll discover why the queen was murdered. Tonight she'll discover what Samantha found, and why that got the princess exiled.

Turning, Alicia faces her mirror. She doesn't recognise herself, not anymore. She doesn't know what she's meant to look like. The child with bare feet and mud streaks, donned in rags but able to wear a smile? The woman destined to bear the weight of a crown with more shadows in her eyes than jewels around her throat? Or the girl whose calluses formed from the grip of a gun?

As she gazes into the mirror, she witnesses none of those people. Without her brothers, without her ma, without the queen guiding her, how can she possibly be any of those people?

All she sees is the woman who's been left alone to save this country with no real idea how to do that. But for her redemption, she's willing to do anything.

Once the palace has grown quiet and still, Alicia slips from her room and into the shadows of the halls. She approaches the archives as quickly and as quietly as she can.

With everyone in mourning, the palace is far more quiet than usual. No drunken nobles stumble through the halls, no servants are sent rushing for more wine and clean bedsheets, and no children try to destroy every expensive vase they can lay their hands on. Alicia is able to move undisturbed, the quiet reminding her of the grief she's buried beneath her numbness.