Page 103 of Reaper’s Curse

He swung back at the summons. “Yes, Your Highness?”

“There is one more thing I need from you.”

Lucas glanced around them, as if noting their relative isolation. “Please don’t keep me in suspense for too long.” He lifted Raven, barely, in his hold. “I may crumble under the weight.”

“I need the cuffs off.” He dropped a pointed glare to the iron surrounding his wrists.

Lucas leaned forward and seethed. “Winter.”

“I’m sorry, Lucas. I know you’re only looking out for me, but what attacked her is still out there.” He dropped his gaze to Raven.

Even with all her cuts and scrapes, she was still a vision.

He closed his eyes and focused on Chace being hauled away by the guards. “There’s something important I must do, and I’ll need my magic in order to succeed.”

Lucas stared at him, his expression blank, but Winter knew the man was scrutinizing him. Judging him ten ways through curse and kingdom. The servant’s lips pressed tight.

Lucas sighed. “You know, it would have been nice if you’d passed this request along before my hands were full.”

A shy, winning smile tugged at Winter’s mouth. “Yes. I suppose that’s true.”

Lucas rolled his eyes. “Right front pocket.”

Winter reached forward.

“And before you get any ideas,” Lucas continued, “that was not an invitation to anything beyond collecting the key.”

A laugh burst from Winter’s lungs. “Noted.”

He reached into Lucas’s right pocket and pulled free the key. Released the cuffs binding…or attempting to bind…his magic. The iron bracelets slipped free, and a welcoming arctic wind swirled around him, then evaporated.

“Thank you.” Winter slid the key and cuffs into Lucas’s pocket and turned toward the nearest palace containment cells, leaving the servant to care for Raven.

Winter made his way across the palace grounds, heading for the containment cages. Every cell in his body was alive—pulsating—with his newly reclaimed magic. He’d forgotten how damn empowered the gift made him feel. If it hadn’t been for Raven…and the glove…he wouldn’t be remembering, experiencing it now.

The glove had prompted him to head to the pub that morning, but instead, he had found himself chasing Raven and the black-garbed guards into a large warehouse full of afflicted.

What the hell were the guards doing with all those afflicted corralled in that manner?

And what was that thing…that enormous, cloaked male…doing going after Raven?

Using the magic of a winter breeze to mask his movements, the prince slid to the outer side wall of the nearest collection of containment cages. They were a holding location utilized while paperwork was filed and an official residence in the castle dungeons was procured. If all went well, Chace wouldn’t go any farther in the imprisonment process.

With a twist of his fingers, Winter sent a whispering breeze through the windows and open door of the small building. The wind collected sounds, smells, and shapes, then reported back to him. Four cages, one of which was occupied.

Chace sat in a holding pen on the bunk, legs stretched out, one bent at the knee. He leaned against the wall with his head tilted back. Eyes closed, as if the guy hadn’t a care about his location or condition.

The buffoon appeared too comfortable. Too confident.

And maybe he had every right to be because Winter was here, set on breaking Chace free.

But Chace didn’t know that…did he?

Winter released a groan of frustration and inched toward the window, peeked inside. Marking the location of Chace and the two nearby guards, he released his power.

The temperature dropped, and with it, the oxygen level. The guards shivered and exchanged a look, began rubbing their arms. Chace sat up straight on the bunk.

Sucking back a breath, Winter pulled more oxygen from the interior of the small building. Closing his eyes, he concentrated on the flow moving away from the surroundings, summoning it to him. His entire being became nothing but the pull and flow of air. Drawing it smoothly, yet swiftly, to him.