by Silver, Ruth
“Her mother was telling me how Isabella and her father travel to different cities, as traders. That wasn't the worst of it. After you slipped out of the room, I examined her daughter, pretending to be a doctor. Obviously, I couldn't revive her, but what I found was unsettling. Her fingers were black.”
“Why were they black?” Leila asked.
“She contracted a disease, probably during her travels,” Edon said. “My concern is that we took her soul too late, and it had time to spread.”
Leila walked toward the horse and saddled up. “Maybe you're wrong.” She was going home. The scroll hadn't given her another assignment.
“Let's hope so.”
Swiftly, Leila rode home. As she arrived back at the house, she was surprised to see three additional horses tied up alongside Emblyn's. She climbed down and secured Violetta's horse before walking inside. Candles lit up the living room. She was surprised to see Jasper and Wynter joining Emblyn and Violetta.
“You must have made a big mess,” Violetta said, the moment Leila stepped inside.
“I cleaned it up. Why's that?”
Jasper stood up and opened his scroll, showing it to Leila. “Look at my assignment.” In three days’ time, he had twenty reaps to perform at approximately the same time. No more could fit on the scroll.
Leila cleared her throat. “Has this ever happened before?”
“Not to this extent, no,” Jasper said. He walked back toward the couch, sitting with Emblyn. Wynter sat on the floor and Violetta took her favorite chair across from the sofa.
“Do you all have excessive assignments?” Leila asked, hoping it was a one-off thing. Maybe Jasper was being given overtime or something.
“Don't you?” Violetta asked. “Let me see your scroll.”
Leila hesitated before she finally reached for her scroll, removing it from her stocking. Unrolling the scroll, Leila revealed that it was blank.
“They don't trust her,” Jasper said. “She's on probation. It's the only explanation.”
Leila snatched her scroll back and held it in her hands. She sat down on the floor beside Wynter. “Who doesn't trust me?”
Wynter pulled out his scroll and unraveled it, revealing his too was empty. “Whoever gives out the reaping assignments. No one knows, except for maybe Edon, but he's not saying. I've been in some hot water over the past few decades, so it's not a surprise they didn't hand me a massive assignment.”
“Well, I'm new,” Leila said. “Maybe they're waiting to make sure I know what I'm doing?”
Emblyn showed Leila her scroll. “Violetta, Jasper and I each have a scroll filled from top to bottom. It can't hold any more names. We're worried that once we reap the first person on the scroll, another will follow in its place.”
Wynter shrugged. “Hopefully, you're wrong. Maybe it's just sixty unfortunate souls in a boating accident.”
Jasper shot Wynter a look. “You know it's not that.”
“No,” Wynter said, “I don't know what it is. That's why we came over. Well, that and we brought Leila a horse. We figured she'd need one.”
“How much do I owe you?” Leila asked, a frown on her lips. She still didn't have any money.
“It's on the house,” Wynter said. “I assure you, she won't be missed.”
“So you stole her?” Leila asked. She was already in trouble; she didn't need to be riding on it.
Wynter didn't answer her.
Jasper stood. “I'm heading home. This week is going to be brutal. I may as well relax and sleep while I can.”
Leila waited until Jasper left and shut the door, before she turned to Wynter. “Is it possible for reapers to get sick?”
“What do you mean, like catch a cold?” he asked.
Leila sighed. She didn't want them judging her for the mistake she'd made, again. “I had to reap a little girl.”
“Children are always the hardest,” Emblyn said.
Leila stared down at the floor. She didn't want to talk about Isabella. “She may have died of a disease. Her fingers were black. Edon was concerned that she might have caused the spread of the infection to other people in Lyra.”
Violetta stood up. “Were you late reaping the girl?”
Leila refused to look up at Violetta. She stared down at her hands in her lap. “I was.”
“Then you're probably the reason we have to take on extra work. Thanks a lot!” Violetta snapped and headed to her bedroom. She slammed the door behind her.
Wynter rested a gentle hand on Leila's arm. “You couldn't have known.”
Emblyn stretched and stood up. “I'm heading to bed. Jasper was right. We're going to have a busy week. We should rest while we have the chance. I just don't get why you aren't being held responsible.” Emblyn stalked off toward her room. She didn't slam the door, but she wasn't quiet about it either.
The candle light flickered. Leila glanced up at Wynter. “They hate me.” She was surprised he hadn't left yet.
“You have to see it from their side,” he said. “You're the new girl and you just gave them a lot more work to do.”
“You don't know that this is my fault.” Leila wanted to believe she wasn't responsible for those who were scheduled to die in Lyra. It all seemed so morbid.
Wynter stood up. “You're right. We don't. They shouldn't blame you, but you also should be more careful to follow the rules.”
“She was four years old,” Leila said. “Was I just supposed to reap her and be done with it? I wasn't all right with letting her die.”
“It's not our choice to make.” Wynter leaned in and gave her a hug. “Call it a hunch, but I think we'll have our own assignment while they're in Lyra.”
“You do?” Leila didn't know what that meant.
“Try and get some rest.” He walked to the door and glanced back at Leila. “Don't forget to blow out the candles.
“Goodnight, Wynter.”
“Night, Leila.”
The Execution
Chapter 5
Violetta and Emblyn slammed doors in the house, as they rushed to get ready and head out for Lyra. Today, they had at least twenty reaps each and she had none. Leila wanted to be grateful, but she felt hung over from reaping little Isabella. She hid in her room, not wanting to face the world. Some memories would haunt her for eternity. Behind the closed window and curtains, Leila heard the horses’ hooves; they pounded against the hard terrain and faded into the distance.
“Finally, I can sleep in,” Leila said. Her eyes shut, and she willed herself to fall back to sleep. She was exhausted.
Not ten minutes later, Leila heard an insistent knocking against her bedroom door. “Go away!” she shouted. Weren't Violetta and Emblyn gone? She didn't know who it could be and didn't care. She wanted to be left alone.
“Leila.” Wynter's voice carried through the bedroom door. He'd let himself into their cottage. “I got my reap for today, and I think you should see it.”
“Ugh!” Leila was not in the mood. She pushed the covers down and rubbed at the sleep in her eyes. “Come in.” It seemed he wasn't going to leave without showing her whatever it was he wanted her to see.
Wynter walked to the side of Leila's bed and unraveled his scroll. He slowly turned it around, showing it to her.
“No.” Leila’s breath caught in her throat as she read the name. Larkin Alis. She didn't have to finish reading the scroll to know what it meant—the man she loved was going to die.
“He's your friend. The one you were with when you died?”
Leila nodded faintly. “How did you know?”
“Edon may have mentioned it this morning.”
Leila gently pushed Wynter away from the edge of her bed. “What do you mean?”
Wynter turned his back, letting Leila climb out of bed and grab a robe. He waited until she came around to face him before he said, “He stopped by. Edon wanted to make sure I wouldn't screw the job up. I have a knack for getting myself into trouble. Seeing as how you've broken two rules latel
y, he made it clear that this reap had to be done by the book.”
“You're going to kill my boyfriend.” Leila’s chest tightened, making it difficult to breathe.
Wynter reached for Leila's arm and gently guided her back onto the bed to sit. “We've discussed this before. Our job as reapers isn't to kill. People die every day, with or without us. It's better if we're there to help accompany them onward.”
“I don't like it.” What was there to like? Larkin, the boy she'd been sneaking out with, had an appointment with death.
“You're not supposed to,” Wynter said. “I talked with Edon. He thinks you should stay here for today.”
“The hell I am!” Leila stood up. Her hands in fists. “I'm not going to sit by and idly watch as you reap my boyfriend! Not a chance in hell!”
Wynter sighed. “I know you want to help, but the reap is assigned to me, and I really don't think you want to screw up Larkin's death. It's not going to be an easy one.”
“What do you mean?” Leila felt her stomach sink.
“He's being executed for treason and murder.”
“What?” Her eyes widened in horror. She felt like she was going to be sick. “He's innocent! He didn't kill me!” Leila had no idea who had murdered her, but it wasn't Larkin Alis. He loved her, and she him.
“You and I know that, but we can't exactly storm into the kingdom and declare he had an alibi. It's a little more complicated than that.”
“Can't you fix it?” Leila pleaded. She wasn't against begging right now.
“What's written can't be undone,” Wynter whispered. He ran a hand through her red tangles, pushing the hair out of her face. “You don't have to come with me.”
Leila closed her eyes and hung her head. “I do.” She couldn't let Larkin die all alone. Even if he wasn't physically alone, she wanted to be there beside him. “Is there any way I can take his soul?” It felt wrong to allow anyone else to do it. Watching would be painful; reaping his soul would be even more difficult, but it was her job and she owed it to him.
“We can sneak into the asylum and borrow the scythe. It can transfer the assignment from one scroll to another.”
Leila's head tilted up. “Borrow?” she asked and raised a curious eye. The words sneak and borrow didn't belong together. It sounded more like stealing.
“I told you I tend to bend the rules. You've been a reaper for a week. Give it a month, and you'll see all the crazy trouble we can get in together.”
“Let me get dressed and then let's go.” Leila shooed him out the bedroom and locked the door behind him. It was going to be a long and exhausting day.
Leila stared up at the beige and red bricks of the asylum. The shuttered windows and shaded front disturbed her. “Can't you go in, get what we need, and bring it out?”
“We're doing this because you want to reap Larkin's soul. You're coming in with me,” Wynter said.
Together, they walked in through the main doors and toward the back stairwell. Walking past locked wooden doors, Leila's heart skipped a beat. Were people being held hostage inside the rooms? She slowed as she passed, jumping out of her skin when a loud tapping sound came from the other side of the locked door.
“Hurry up,” Wynter said. “You don't want to be around if they get out.”
“Who are they? What's in there?” Leila walked past another door and could hear a faint whimpering inside.
Wynter gripped her arm and led her forcefully toward the back stairwell. “Come on.” Glass windows lit the path up to the third floor. “Edon’s office shouldn't be occupied. He's only in there twice a month.”
“One day a month is too much for me.” Leila followed Wynter out into the hall. The door slammed shut behind them. Leila jumped and let out a slow heavy breath. She needed to calm down.
“Come on.” Wynter walked to the end of the hall and turned the knob. It was unlocked.
Leila was surprised, but then again who would have the courage to come into this place? She was already dead, and it frightened her to no end. “What does the scythe look like?” She'd heard stories about grim reapers when she was a child; none of them were even close to true.
Wynter rummaged along the desk, pushing papers aside. He opened the drawers, digging around until he found something the size of a pen, the scythe.
“That's what you were looking for?” She'd expected it to be bigger, scarier.
“It has the power to assign reaps and reassign them. Bring me your scroll,” Wynter said.
Leila carried her scroll over to Wynter and unrolled it.
Wynter removed the scroll from his pocket and uncurled it, laying the paper out onto the desk. “Hold both open.”
Leila held the top of the scrolls with one hand and the bottom with the other. Wynter struck a line through the name Larkin Alis on his scroll and repeated the motion on Leila's scroll. After a minute, the words began to disappear from Wynter's scroll and reappear on Leila's.
“It worked!” Wynter exclaimed.
“You sound surprised.”
“I am. I've heard stories, but never saw it put to action.” Wynter shoved the scythe back into the drawer, doing his best to make it appear untouched. Then he rolled up his scroll and shoved it into his pocket. “Let's get out of here.”
Leila grabbed her scroll and closed it up, shoving it in her stocking. The burn had disappeared from her first reap. Hopefully, she'd never experience that horrible sensation again.
Together, they rushed down the stairs and out of the asylum toward the front lawn. Thunder clapped overhead. They mounted their horses and rode toward Leila's old home.
The storm clouds grew thick, and the sky darkened like night. Leila felt as if the whole world were mourning for what was about to occur—Larkin's death. A flash of lightening illuminated the sky. Leila coaxed the horse to keep going.
Approaching the town, Wynter slowed his horse and climbed down. “Stay here, girl.” He tied her to a post and patted her back, waiting for Leila to do the same. Once she had, he walked alongside her into town.
It wasn't hard to find where Larkin would be executed. Most of the citizens stood in the town center, watching as the executioner secured a rope around the post. Leila's skin paled. She shivered, but it wasn't from the cold. The crowd was noisy, and the sound swallowed her into a small mass. Sweat prickled her forehead, and her vision blurred. Her nerves were getting to her. Leila clenched her hands. She found it impossible to move.
Wynter reached for her and took her hand in his. “It's all you, Leila. You have to do this.”
She'd made it her responsibility when the scythe grazed her scroll. She didn't have to open the scroll to know the time or location. It was going to happen soon, just a few feet from where she stood. She stepped away from Wynter and pushed herself into the front row. She watched and waited as trumpets sounded. King Philip and Princess Mara walked out to the platform, standing above the people. She carried a candle with her to the platform.
King Philip held up his hands to silence the crowd. Princess Mara lit the candle and shielded the flame from the wind. “I am greatly saddened that my daughter, Princess Ophelia Dacre, is not here with us today. Her life was snuffed out like the flame of this candle, too short, too young, too soon.” The wind extinguished the small flame. The small evidence of smoke disappeared before the young princess. “Today we carry out Larkin Alis's sentence of treason. He stole my daughter's life. Let it be known to all of you that if you so much as look at Princess Mara in the wrong way, you will suffer the same fate.”
Soft gasps erupted throughout the crowd.
“Bring out the prisoner!” King Philip shouted into the roar of the wind.
Larkin's hands were tied behind his back. His head was down and his face coated with dried blood and bruises. He looked much worse than when Leila last saw him in the prison cell. The guards walked Larkin in front of the first row of onlookers.
She had to do this; it was her responsibility. Leila reached out, swiping her palm a
cross his arm. No one paid any attention, except Larkin. His eyes narrowed as he caught sight of Leila. “I'm innocent!” he shouted, hoping the king would come to his rescue. “I loved your daughter! I never meant any harm to come upon her!”
It made no difference. The king refused to acknowledge Larkin. Princess Mara turned her back and refused to watch the hanging. It was a small act of defiance.
Leila stood in the front row, watching as Larkin trudged up four stairs onto the wooden platform. She felt the first raindrop tap her forehead.
“He’s innocent!” Leila let her voice be heard among the silent crowd. She knew she should keep her mouth shut, but it wasn’t just anyone getting executed, it was Larkin.
King Philip’s eyes narrowed and locked on Leila. “Detain her!” he shouted, pointing at the teenage girl.
Whispers bubbled up, and Wynter grabbed Leila’s arm. “It’s time to go, now!”
Two guards strode swiftly toward Leila.
Wynter pulled her back through the crowd of onlookers.
“Stop!” Princess Mara shouted to the guards. Silence once again fell on the kingdom. “Princess Ophelia wouldn’t want this!”
Taken aback, the guards stopped their pursuit glancing at King Philip to determine if their orders had changed.
King Philip’s top lip snarled. He stared at his only remaining daughter. “Silence! How dare you defy me.”
Princess Mara crossed her arms across her chest.
Wynter dragged Leila away from danger. The citizens of Casmerelda gathered closer, watching the scene unfold on the platform before them. Leila and Wynter were forgotten.
Princess Mara had bought them time, although Leila had no clue as to why.
“We have to go back,” Leila said.
Wynter laughed. “Please, tell me you’re not serious. We barely escaped with our lives and you want to rush back into danger?” He ran a hand through his hair. “You’re crazier than your sister, and I can’t believe she just saved our lives.”
“She’ll pay for it later.” Leila knew her father wouldn’t forget what Mara had done—embarrassed him in front of his kingdom.
Leila watched as King Philip slapped Princess Mara across the face and resumed the execution as scheduled. She couldn't witness the rest. She hung her head and closed her eyes. A few stray tears mixed with rain trickled down her cheek. Her eyes flashed open, but focused on the dirt. The shouts and words of sadness for Princess Ophelia and hatred for Larkin made her sick. She stumbled backwards, knocking into Wynter.
