Page 124 of Reaper's Quest

My body began to thrash.

Your death is yet unaccepted.

What does that mean?

As if prompted by a shove of hands on my shoulders, my body hitched backward. I toppled away from the tub and fell to the washroom floor. Curled in on my side, water expelled from my lungs with savage shakes and shudders.

When I had nothing more to force free, I shoved myself across the floor and sat with my back pressed against the wall. Rubbed at the rising bump at the edge of my hairline.

My plan had failed.

My thoughts ventured back to the image of me as a wraith, wild with power. A force taking ownership of the energy that dwelled within me. Energies of both life and death.

A sigh dragged through my chest.

The Killian hadn’t come. He had rejected me.

And there was nothing I could do about that.

But I refused to sit around and let Winter slip into a state trapped between worlds. Shoving my sodden hair away from my face with a sweep of my hand, I pulled to a stand and stared at my reflection in the mirror across the room—forehead bruised, face haggard with dark circles beneath my eyes, and hair wet and tangled.

My gaze flittered to the bucket on the floor beside the mirror. The bucket Earl had used to transfer the water from the spigot to the tub. Grabbing it and placing it beneath the spigot, I pumped water into the container, then I drank my fill, quenching the burn that still simmered inside of me.

Mildly satisfied, I returned my gaze to the mirror once more. A barely there hint of color bloomed across my cheeks, but for the most part, my reflection remained unchanged.

Doesn’t matter, I decided.Time to step up.

I would take ownership of who and what I was. And I would use that part of myself to help Winter. Even if what I planned to do might exact a painful toll. I owed him that much.

My thoughts momentarily settled on the afflicted woman I had unknowingly healed. I didn’t care to admit it, but I’d been extra tired afterward, and I headed into the situation with Winter already physically and mentally drained.

Could I have been suffering long-lasting effects from that healing without realizing it? Could that have contributed to the wounds I suffered at the palace—the reason I had been left incapacitated for far too long?

I shoved those thoughts away and pushed them into a tiny crevice in my mind.

Turning from the mirror, I grabbed the notebook,deposited it in my room, snagged my reaper’s tool, strode straight to where Winter had been taken, and kicked open the door.

At Winter’s side, Aoes and the healer jumped to their feet.

“Damn.” Aoes ogled me. “You could have turned the knob like any normal person. The door was unlocked.” He jabbed a point to my forehead. “Is that a bruise? What happened?”

I ignored his questions and visually swept the room. I’d heard him lock the door earlier, but the men who had helped carry Winter in had left.

“Leave us. Both of you,” I said with a slight wave of my hand. “I’m going to get him back.”

I moved to the bed, took a seat at Winter’s side, and placed my hand upon his chest. He was a block of ice beneath my touch.

The healer stepped into the hall without argument, a twinge of fear and apprehension on her features. But Aoes… He lingered.

“You’re injured,” he said.

I flicked a finger toward the door. “You, too. Go.”

“But—”

I halted him with a raised hand and a pointed stare. “Go.”

Aoes backed into the hall as if my order had blown him from the room.