by Silver, Ruth
Changes
Chapter 8
Escaping the castle, Wynter slowed the last few steps. “Come on.” Leila's heart raced as she encouraged Wynter to hurry up. Guards were searching the castle for the intruder. They needed to get as far from the castle as possible. Leila hoped King Philip and the guards would listen to Mara, that Warner de Clare had been the murderer.
“I'm trying,” Wynter groaned.
Jasper pulled back and wrapped an arm around Wynter's waist. “You're not hurt, are you?”
“What do you consider hurt?” Wynter's face contorted.
“What's wrong?” Leila asked, her pulse quickened and her palms began to sweat.
Violetta's face was grave. “He's becoming a dark angel. Making a deal doesn't come without a price. Grim reapers can't meddle with death. When they do, there are always consequences.”
“What?” Leila couldn't believe what she was hearing. “A dark angel? Like that woman we met, Juliana?”
“Get me to the carriage,” Wynter grunted.
Leila’s hair had fallen down her back, the clip long forgotten in their dash out of the palace. She stared up at the night sky, transfixed. The clouds recently parted and a rich purple clustered the heavens. A sea of purple shooting stars peppered the sky, and the light reflected off the water. She'd never seen anything quite like the display tonight.
“Leila!” Jasper struggled to get Wynter into the carriage, and Leila was falling behind.
Leila lifted her heels and jogged the last few feet across the grass toward the dirt path. “Did you see that?” Leila asked, glancing over her shoulder at the night sky behind them. In all of Casmerelda, she’d never seen a sky so beautiful.
“Get in.” Jasper helped Wynter into the back. The girls climbed into the carriage and Jasper took off, fast.
Leila kept silent. Every time she opened her mouth, she glanced at Wynter, wanting to know how he was doing. She didn't have the courage to ask. She shut her lips and stared down at her hands in her lap. She'd caused this, because she didn't want her sister to die.
The ride was thick with silence. This had been her fault. Arriving at the asylum, Edon stood outside the grounds.
“We're here,” Jasper said. No one ever liked visiting the asylum. Leila wanted to ask why they'd chosen to visit Edon but it wasn't a question worth asking. Besides, Edon seemed to know everything.
“Go.” Wynter waited for Violetta and Leila to climb out first. He hesitated before stepping out, his head bent down. A full set of black wings followed behind him. Leila gasped, seeing what he'd hidden from her in the shadow of the carriage.
“I need you to pack Wynter's things and bring them to me,” Edon said to Jasper. “Then return this wretched piece of garbage to its rightful owner.” He pointed to the carriage. “We're not royal. Return it.”
“They're dead, sir,” Jasper said.
Edon rolled his eyes. “I'm sure they have family who would want it. We're not scavengers of the dead.”
“Yes, sir.”
Edon walked over to Wynter. “Let me show you to your room.”
“Wait!” Leila chased after Edon and Wynter. “There has to be another way.” She followed them inside the asylum. It was the last place Leila wanted to visit but she knew Wynter well enough to know he wouldn't want to live here. There had to be something she could do to fix this mess.
“If there was, don't you think I'd have thought of it? Do you think I enjoyed watching my family, friends, and city be buried in Stile? Would I have done anything possible to save them? Of course! We don't get to make those choices. Not without serious consequences, which Wynter is experiencing right now.” Edon unlocked the heavy wooden door.
Leila took a step back in hesitation. Her fingers played with the chain on her neck. Glancing down, she saw the pendant was a sea of black with silver sparkles. Her breath caught in her throat. She wanted to tell Wynter not to go in, not to listen. He was happier when he was breaking the rules. They were happier.
“I'd like to be alone.” Wynter walked into the room and closed the door behind him. It creaked shut.
The room lacked any sign of home. He’d traded the house with Jasper for a bedroom at the asylum. A bed nestled against the wall and an empty dresser rested against the opposite wall near the window. There were no signs of life, or that anyone had ever inhabited the space.
Every bit of him ached. His heart, his back, his lungs. As a reaper, he’d known in some ways he was still alive. He needed air just as a human, or he’d die. He had no idea what to expect as a dark angel.
His hands trembled, and his feet felt heavy. He stumbled onto the bed and lay on his stomach. His wings spread out; his scream pierced through the room.
What had he done?
Edon knocked and walked into the small room, not bothering with pleasantries. “We need to talk.”
Wynter turned his head to meet Edon’s intense gaze. “I screwed up.” He’d done it out of love, but he’d be cursed as a dark angel for eternity.
Edon sighed and shut the door behind him. He walked toward the bed and took a seat at the edge. “Someone had to intervene to save Mara.”
Wynter raised an eyebrow surprised that Edon wasn’t scolding him for his actions. He’d made a lot of mistakes through the years, but most consisted of getting yelled at and punished in some small way. This wasn’t a small punishment, by any means.
“Consider this a new adventure, Wynter. It doesn’t have to be hell for you.” Edon had always been his mentor.
“I’m here, in the asylum.” What else would describe his current living conditions? Maybe there wasn’t fire and brimstone, but being forced to live in a room at the asylum for the rest of his life was his own personal hell.
Edon nodded, acknowledging Wynter’s concerns. “Yes, but with time and experience you will be able to leave. Your wings aren’t something to be ashamed of, but humans won’t take well to seeing them.”
Wynter sat up in bed, pushing his legs over the edge, sitting beside Edon. He nearly smacked Edon in the head with his wings, and the older man ducked. “I can’t exactly hide them. Let alone control them!” It was frustrating and painful, physically.
Edon rested a hand on the young dark angel’s shoulder. Wynter’s shirt was torn, ripped, and blood-stained from the wings protruding out the back of the garment. “It gets easier. We’ll get you some new clothes and a coat that will conceal your wings from humans.”
“I can’t hide forever.”
“You’d be surprised.” Edon offered a faint smile. “It’s customary for the dark angel who makes the deal to help mentor you, but Juliana isn’t always the easiest to get along with.”
That caught Wynter by surprise. “You know Juliana?”
Edon didn’t answer the question. “I’ll help you, Wynter, in any way that I can. You won’t be alone, and with time you can return to live with Jasper, if you choose.”
Jasper accompanied Leila and Violetta back to the house. He slowed the carriage to a stop and helped the girls step out.
“Are you really going to get rid of the carriage?” Violetta asked. “It's better than riding a horse.”
Jasper sighed. “I don't want to, and the man I borrowed it from is dead.” Jasper locked eyes with Violetta. “They won't miss it. Promise me you won't say anything to Edon. I can hide it for a few months until things settle down.”
“You know I can keep a secret.” Violetta smiled.
Jasper grinned. “Yeah, I know.”
Leila stepped out, planting her feet on the grass. “I'm sorry about everything. I appreciate what you both did, trying to help me save Mara and for attending the party with me. It was fun until I got Mara’s name on the scroll.” The corners of her lips tugged upward. “I should go in, check on Emblyn.” Someone had to give her the bad news about Wynter.
“We'll see you later.” Violetta waved goodbye to Jasper. She watched as he climbed back onto the carriage and drove back to his house.
“Do you think he'll be lonely, now that Wynter's gone?” Leila asked. Wynter wasn't just his roommate, but also his friend.
Violetta grimaced. “I don't want to think about it.”
Leila headed inside the house first. “Emblyn!” There was no answer. “Are you sleeping?” She stormed into the girl's room, only to find it empty of her belongings. It was bare, except for the bed and dresser. “Emblyn?” She swallowed the lump forming in her throat.
Violetta watched from the hall. “What's wrong?”
“She's gone. Why would she leave?” Leila didn't understand what was going on. Was this another punishment for disobeying the laws of the reapers?
Violetta sighed. “She probably was reassigned. It happens.”
“You don't sound concerned.” Leila was surprised. She walked into the kitchen, finding a note in Emblyn's handwriting. It wasn't the easiest thing to read with her scribble. New assignment in Stile. Finally get to see the ruins. Come visit me.
“She's gone.” Leila pushed the note across the table. “I can't believe she left.”
“I'm sure it wasn't by choice.” Violetta plopped down on the chair at the kitchen table. “You know what's worse? Even if we wanted to visit, we can't. Death doesn't take a vacation.”
“Do you think she will be lonely in Stile?” Leila asked. She had no idea what it was like when reapers were forced to move. Did they get to live with other reapers in new cities? Were they forced to live in an asylum like Wynter? Her stomach flopped just thinking about it.
“It won't take Emblyn long to make friends.” Violetta crumbled the note and walked with it toward the fireplace. She tossed the paper inside. The next time they lit the fire, Emblyn's words would be destroyed, but not forgotten.
“Do you think she knew?” Leila stood up and walked to the living room. “She didn't come with us to the party. Was she trying to spare us from having to watch her leave?”
“No one likes to say goodbye.”
Leila slept most of the day. They'd gotten to the house just after the sun came up. When she woke, she changed and grabbed a bite to eat in the kitchen. Violetta was still sound asleep. She needed to see Wynter and make sure he was all right. Leila grabbed her coat and scarf, knowing the air outside was chilly. Walking around back, she mounted her horse and rode toward the asylum. As a grim reaper, she had learned to no longer fear death, but she was still frightened of a lot of things, including the asylum. Wynter was the only reason she was visiting. She wondered how he felt being forced to live there.
Securing the horse outside, Leila pushed open the heavy wooden door and stepped inside. Her scroll hadn't given her the next assignment yet. Until it did, she could spend the rest of the afternoon with Wynter. Hopefully, he wanted to see her.
The smell of the asylum made her gag. It reeked of mold and rotten eggs. She held her breath and knocked on the door. “Wynter. It's Leila. Let me in.”
“Go away.” His voice was gruff, his tone sharp.
“Come on. It stinks out here. Please.” She wasn't opposed to begging right now. As long as the smell wasn't permeating his room, she'd be fine. Wynter unlocked the door and nudged it open a few inches. Leila didn't wait a moment longer than necessary. She darted into his room and slammed the door shut behind her. “It smells awful out there.” She inhaled a huge breath of oxygen and felt it tickle her nose. At least the smell was pleasant, like Wynter—almonds and milk. She stared at him. He was shirtless, muscular. His back had fresh scars from the wings breaking through his flesh.
“What are you doing here?” His voice was short, his temper quick.
“I'm visiting you.” Leila stared at him, curious about the changes. She reached out to touch his wings, her fingers barely brushing the black feathers before he pulled back, as though her touch were fire and burned him.
“Don't.”
“Sorry.” Her eyes shifted down to the floor. Was he embarrassed about his wings, the changes that happened to him? She cleared her throat and glanced up to meet his stare. “I'm not afraid, Wynter. I think you're beautiful.”
“Yes, because that's what a guy loves to be called.”
She walked the length of his room before plopping down on the edge of his mattress. “This sucks. Everything about it.” Leila didn't want him in the asylum, and she knew he didn't want to be there. “Why are you here?” Aside from the obvious change—the giant wings that didn't seem to be going away—she couldn't fathom why he wasn't back at the house. Couldn't he hide at home?
“Are you blind?” His temper and frustration forced his wings to expand the full length of the small room. He took a few deep breaths. As he gathered air into his lungs, his wings lowered before tucking themselves back against him. “It takes some getting used to. Once I master it, I'll be able to return home.”
“So, what are you supposed to do here all day?” Leila glanced around his room. It was dark, except for a filth-covered window. It didn't allow a lot of light in.
“Edon was going to bring me some texts. He wants me to brush up on dark angel history. Then, I learn about my responsibilities, which is to say I get to intervene, whereas you reapers don't.”
“That sounds nice.” It was better than not being able to stop death from happening. Leila was trying her best to lighten the tension and break Wynter’s sullen mood. It wasn't as though either of them loved being a reaper. “What happened to the dark angel you asked for help? The one who took Sophia's life in exchange for Mara's?” Had Juliana been cast out of wherever she lived? Leila didn't know what was going on. Had Wynter taken her place? Had the dark angel been like a genie in a magical lamp, trapped until Wynter had set her free, only to find himself trapped in her place?
“Edon mentioned that she's been given a promotion. Whatever that means.” He sighed and took a seat on the bed beside Leila. “What are you doing here?”
“I came to see how you were.” Leila rested a hand on his arm. “I was worried about you.” The asylum frightened her, and to think that Wynter had to stay there because of what he'd become made her feel guilty too.
“I'll be fine.”
Leila removed her hand from his arm and placed it back in her lap. “I'm sure you will.” Silence filled the room. She didn't know what to say, or how to make it right. “Can I ask you something, personal?”
“I have a feeling if I say no, you'll still ask me.”
Leila laughed and rolled her eyes. “Probably. I wanted to know how you died. What made you decide to become a grim reaper? In my case, I wanted to know who killed me, but you know how you died. There was no mystery involved.”
“I wanted revenge. Not initially, but I wasn't ready to rest, at least my soul wasn't ready.” Wynter stared at her and tilted his head slightly to the side. “Does that bother you?”
“No.” She didn't see why it would bother her. “You had a horrific death, Wynter. I can understand how you weren't ready to let go of this life.”
“What about the fact I murdered two men?”
“Murdered is a strong word, Wynter. Tell me what happened.” Leila knew he wasn't a bad guy, even if he did bend the rules. She wasn't all that different from him.
“Two men attacked my sister, Hannah, on the way back from the market.”
“So, you killed them in retaliation?” Leila stared at his face, noticed the frown across his jaw line and reached out to stroke the rough stubble along his cheek.
“Not quite.” He let out a heavy sigh. “I went to the brothers’ home and demanded a public apology. Others in Wisteria needed to know that these men were monsters, and their wives and daughters needed protecting.”
“What happened?” Leila asked.
“Well, they weren’t going to apologize. They called me names, spit on me, and then there was a scuffle. I was forced to defend myself. I didn’t want to kill either of them, but I had no choice. It turned out they were the sons of the archduke. So, I was convicted of murder and treason against my country.” Wynter frowned, his brow furrowed. “
Even worse, after my death, I wasn’t there to protect Hannah. She was attacked by the archduke and beaten to death. Angry, I returned to the village and sought retribution. If I hadn’t died and if I’d done a better job of protecting her, she’d still be alive.”
“You can’t think that, Wynter. You’re not responsible for her death.” Leila reached for Wynter, throwing her arms around him. His wings expanded as his emotions ripped through him. It was all too familiar a feeling for Leila. It reminded her of King Philip ordering Larkin's execution.
“She didn't deserve to die.”
No amount of time would ever completely heal old scars. Leila knew that with Larkin. A part of her wished she hadn't brought it up, asked Wynter about his death, but another part of her was grateful he shared his pain with her. Leila leaned closer, brushing her soft lips against his cheek. “I'm glad you became a reaper, even if you were out for revenge.”
Wynter shifted along the mattress, leaning forward, pushing his forehead against hers. “I'm sorry you had to become a reaper, but I'm glad I have the chance to know you.” He leaned in, brushing his lips against hers.
Her bottom lip trembled against his mouth, Leila’s nerves getting the better of her. Wynter is kissing me. She couldn’t stop her racing thoughts. His lips are on mine. Her heart pounded and her fingers trembled. Wynter’s thumb stroked her jaw, soothing her nerves.
She gave him her strength and warmth, wanting to keep him from unraveling. Reluctantly, Leila pulled back. Her fingers traced a path down his arm, until she reached his hand. “Did you hear about Emblyn?” She had to tell him if he hadn't heard it from Edon already.
“No. What about her?”
Thinking about it hurt. She gnawed on her bottom lip anxiously. “We got back to the house and she was gone. She left a note that she'd been reassigned to Stile. I get the feeling she's not coming back.”
“She probably won't.” He sighed, thinking it over. “The Great Plague was bad here for a while. It may have spread. It's possible they need more help.”
