The Reaper's Curse #1 - Complete

Royals

Because of Alicia's failed attempt to garner Nathalia's help, the exiles and the rebels are forced to meet again. Now that there's a chance the duke could be looking for them Alicia and Oliver walk together, dressed in commoner's garbs. The dull earthly tones do nothing to take away from the sharpness of Oliver's sterling gaze, and he still manages to look like a soldier within rags, though he's noticeably uncomfortable out of his tailored suits. Alicia keeps the lower half of her face wrapped in her red scarf.

After slinking back to Oliver with her tail between her legs, he sent letters to the others calling for another meeting. And told them that Alicia had failed. She doesn't like the bitter taste of defeat her ma has left her with.

The late afternoon sun shines on Kieran as he idles beside a building, looking like just another unfortunate peasant on the streets.

Alicia pulls down her scarf from her mouth as they reach him. She breathes in the thick air and soot quickly infects her lungs, the stench of the slums filling her nose. She wonders briefly how she ever grew accustomed to the odour of this place, the stench of smoke and wet mud a constant in every building.

The Zalanas once called the south home. They managed to crawl from the reek of shit and coal to embrace themselves in perfumes and gold. She wonders if this place will always be considered the closest thing to home to Kieran like it is to Alicia.

"The others are already inside," Kieran says, pushing away from the wall and offers her a gentle smile, a wary smile, treating her like she's porcelain again. She lets it slide. Kieran steps ahead to open a door for her, the pale, lime green of the door a shock of colour amongst the lifeless streets. Chipped and fading as it may be, Alicia is almost relieved to see the startling pigmentation.

They follow Kieran inside and are encumbered by the overwhelming scent of perfume and a haze of chatter and smoke.

Alicia presses her lips together as a woman swathed in silks that hardly covers her most modest parts wanders past her, flicking a gaze of silent promises to both her and Oliver.

She continues to follow Kieran with a newfound hesitancy in her step, the underlying smell of alcohol and sex mingling with the fragrance of the brothel.

They enter a back room, away from the suffocating cluster of patrons. The deep red drapes darken the room, and Alicia knows the fabric drips with everything sinister. Lena waits for them here, situated in a leather booth, her single, dark eye shining beneath her low hood.

Alicia swallows the lump in her throat, taking a seat beside Kieran in the booth. Oliver follows close behind, his hand on her thigh once they're comfortable. She glances at him as he squeezes her leg gently beneath the table. Alicia finds comfort in the pressure of his hand and her pulse stops fluttering like a caged bird in her throat. Oliver removes his hand from her thigh as she offers him a sideways glance of reassurance. He laces his fingers together and leans against the polished wood. The unaffected soldier. Alicia follows his lead and turns to the people that sit before them, her eyes sharp, but her smile soft.

Samantha and Galya look exhausted, both women with darkness under their gazes. None of them look like they slept much last night and haven't had a chance to rest since Alicia failed her promise.

"I'm sorry I couldn't get Nathalia to help," Alicia starts, sitting on the edge of her seat. "Does anyone know of anything else we can do?"

Lena lets out a heavy breath. "We all agree that attempting to form a truce with the duke may be in our best interests right now. But he might just try to kill us all the moment we reveal ourselves."

Alicia clenches her jaw, glancing at Oliver beside her as he shifts. "Any suggestions then?"

When none of them answer, each of them knowing whoever goes to meet him could be walking into a trap, Alicia leans back in the booth and lets out a breath. She eyes those red drapes, imaging they're bathed in all the blood that's been spilt because of the duke. The man made a single bad call by letting slip the existence of an army of immortal warriors to Igorek and Parshin, and he's still trying to pick up the pieces and cling to his power. The longer he has power, the more people die.