The Deathsinger: Book 1

Ch 6: Captured

Tievel did join The Hunt, and for the next three days, he stumbled home at dawn and left before the Midday bell. I glimpsed him once in passing, and he spared me a soft smile. It was gone as quickly as it came, replaced with a foreign tight-lipped expression of concentration.

Even if he had not joined the others in the search for the Deathsinger and Reaper, I would not have seen much of him. All the upper nobility had come to the castle to pay their respects to the king, and they had stayed for The Hunt. Most would stay long after since there was no point in returning to their country estates so close to the beginning of the social season. That meant the palace was severely short staffed, and I had to join the maids on their daily rounds until they could bring in help.

I didn't mind the arrangement. Not only did it keep my mind busy, but it gave me an excuse to avoid the noblewomen who went out of their way to make me miserable. If they knew I was the one cleaning their rooms and tossing out their chamber pots, the teasing would never cease, but thankfully, they were too conceited to look the servants in the eye, which offered me some sense of anonymity as I went about my work.

The same couldn't be said of Joreen, though. Since her treasonous outburst in my bedroom, she steered clear of me when possible, and on the few occasions we were forced to share a lift or clean a room together, she spoke little and didn't look me in the eye.

It didn't matter. Her passion and accusations haunted me every hour—waking and sleeping. I wanted to tell her I believed her. That I'd seen the darkness creeping into the kingdom, too, but acknowledging it felt like I would have to do something about it. I wasn't ready.

"Why are we heading up here?" Astreia asked. She'd taken to joining me whenever she could escape the queen and her ladies, and she also requested I be assigned to her room and Tievel's.

The lift came to a jostling halt, and the attendant raised the gate to let us out. Thanking him, I waited until we were at Tievel's door to reply.

"Tievel was still sleeping during our normal cleaning time. He's been out late with the Hunt. They return at dawn and leave before midday bell."

"Is it not easier to search during the daylight?" Astreia said, launching herself into the middle of the prince's untidy bed. "They only have a few bells of daylight if they leave at midday."

"I suppose they think Deathsingers are creatures of the darkness," I joked. If they did have a penchant for darkness, then perhaps I wasn't one. Sunlight pleased me as much as moonlight.

Staring about the room, I tried to figure out what was different. Books were piled high on the nightstand; not unusual, though the covers looked worn with age. Tievel wasn't one for the classics, preferring modern literature and poems written by his peers over ancient texts penned by a bunch of dead people. Leave it to him to be prejudiced against death, even in his reading taste.

"Does the air seem really fresh in here?" Astreia asked, her nose wrinkling as she sniffed.

Snapping, I cried out, "That's it."

Hurrying to the nightstand, I found it free of the usual Kanna ash. No soured cups of Goblin wine littered the surface, either.

"Is our little prince running about completely sober?" the princess crowed with glee. "Oh, he must feel miserable."

The first book on the large stack drew my attention. There was no title on its cover or spine, but when I flipped to the first page, the topic became very clear. A woman, almost skeletal in appearance and dressed in rags, filled the entire page. Her mouth opened in an unending scream, and black swallowed her eyes and fanned out across her skin.