Wicked is the Reaper, page 1
WICKED IS THE REAPER
Copyright © 2022 by Nisha J Tuli
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All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission except in the case of brief quotations used in critical articles or reviews. This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, organizations, places, events, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
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For information contact : http://www.nishajtuli.com/
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Cover design by Saint Jupiter
ISBN: 978-1-7781269-1-8
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First Edition: April 2022
Second Edition: January 2024
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10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3
To the girls who think the villain is kind of hot.
Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Also by Nisha
About Nisha
Chapter One
Twenty-three potential suitors stalked into the forest, each with the promise of a crown and a bride in their sights. They were an adequate, if uninspired, lot.
Standing at the tree line next to my sister, our mother and father flanked us on either side, our castle at our backs. They had forbidden us from entering the forest when we were children. The tales of the Reaper who haunted the trees pierced our dreams, leaving us lying awake and blinking in the dark. As we grew older, we still kept our distance, fearing the evil that rooted in its soil.
“Ellis looks so handsome today,” my sister said in a wistful voice as she clung tightly to my arm. Two years my junior, Margaret would never share my fate. “You’re so lucky, Rowan.” My answering smile was tight as we both watched the man in question disappear into the dense trees.
For twenty-five years, I’d awaited this day. From the moment I’d been old enough, I understood the Hunt would be the arbiter of my future. Today I’d be bound by fate, by circumstance, by the order of my birth, to the man I would marry and the man who would rule as king of Aetherus.
When the Fae had colonized our kingdom centuries ago, they’d left behind not only the blemish of their rule, but a decree—the Hunt would decide the betrothal of any royal first-born daughter. It was the way they had always done it in their own world, and we were to follow the same archaic rules that would see me handed over to a man without my say.
It had never been clear to me why the Fae cared at all, but I suspected it was to remind everyone who held the balance of our lives in their hands. Now, we’d wait here for hours as my stable of potential grooms hunted, killed, and delivered the largest stag to the feet of the king.
My father reached over and squeezed my hand, his smile gentle. “Don’t worry, my love. Ellis will have this.” Still clinging to my tight smile, I turned to my mother, who clasped my other hand in hers, her expression meant to be reassuring. We all bore the same dark hair, light brown skin, and deep brown eyes. My mother, Margaret, and I were near images of each other.
Everyone knew Ellis was the best hunter in Aetherus and though it wasn’t a guarantee, today’s odds swayed mostly in his favor. We’d been friends since we were children and had both understood this wasn’t just my fate, but his as well. Ellis was handsome and kind and patient. I couldn’t have asked for a better match. What we lacked in passion, we made up for with respect, friendship, and a mutual desire to do right by the people we’d rule.
Anyone in Aetherus was eligible to participate, but the resources and training needed were the privilege of only the wealthy. Despite the confidence in the Hunt’s outcome, every eligible noble-born son in the kingdom had, nevertheless, arrived to throw in their lot. After all, their prize was a princess and a crown to go with it.
Even if there was an upset and someone else proved victorious, I knew these men. Had known them for years and none interested me either. Maybe some small part of me wished an unexpected suitor had shown up to try their luck, but I kept that errant thought to myself.
“How much longer?” I asked as the sun was setting, my feet tired from standing, my fingers numbing from the cold. I strained for the sounds that would signal anyone returning, praying this would be over soon. This entire spectacle was demeaning.
Behind us stood the whole of my father’s court, quietly waiting. Casting a look over my shoulder, I caught their anxious glances. What did they have to be worried about? I was the one being handed off like a dog-eared book at the market.
With a frown, I turned away, my breath fogging in the air. As the hours wore on, the temperature dropped. It was nearing the end of autumn, the chill of winter’s breath on the wind.
The leaves rustled, drawing my attention back to the trees. A man emerged with a dead stag draped across his shoulders. Hunched over from the weight, his steps were measured and steady. He crossed the tree line, stopped several feet from where we stood and dropped the stag on the ground.
He was a son of a lesser noble. Tyrion was his name, if memory served. He was a few years older, handsome in a classical if predictable way, but he was just window dressing. The stag was small by the standards of this forest, and he would pose no threat to my future.
A group of Fae-appointed overseers approached and began measuring, weighing, and cataloguing his kill for posterity. They would scrutinize everything to ensure we had followed their rules to the letter of the law.
When they were done, Tyrion stood and waited, his hands clasped behind his back as he cast surreptitious looks my way. More figures emerged from the trees, each one bearing their kill.
Every time another man appeared, my breath hitched as I anticipated a familiar head of dark brown hair. Ellis was the right choice for me. His family was influential, and he would make a good king. I didn’t need that furious longing I’d read about in my favorite romance novels. Those were just stories. That wasn’t real.
More suitors emerged from the trees, some of them looking decidedly less princely than they had this morning. Not every one of them would make it back alive. Stag hunting was dangerous, after all. That was the whole point of this barbaric tradition.
More and more hunters arrived, each dropping their bloody prize to be weighed and measured. The cloying smell of death and the forest’s life taken hung in the air.
“Where is he?” Margaret asked, her brow furrowing. “I hope nothing happened to him.”
I shared my sister’s concern, worried Ellis had met with an accident. Even if he was the most skilled, that didn’t make him immune to the spear of a stag’s antler through his gut.
“He’ll be here,” my mother said, focusing on the forest. “Don’t worry. Everything will be fine.”
I nodded, doing my best to believe her when, finally, I spied a figure I recognized through the trees. My heart leapt in relief as Ellis trudged out of the forest with an enormous stag across his broad shoulders. He peered up through a fringe of dark lashes, throwing me a confident smile.
No, our relationship wasn’t about lust or passion, but he was stable and loyal and would make a fine husband. That was better. That’s what a queen needed.
He dropped his stag in the line and then straightened with a grin, his bright blue eyes sparkling. Blood covered his tunic, and there was a splash on his cheek, but otherwise he was whole. Looking down the row, it was obvious his kill was the largest, and I breathed a sigh of relief. Despite everything, he was still my first choice.
The overseers tabulated the numbers, assessing Ellis’s stag. When they were done, they scurried to my father, all of them moving to the side to speak in soft whispers. Two hunters hadn’t made it back, and now it was time to decide the victor.
My mother and I exchanged a glance before I looked over at Ellis and gave him a tentative wave.
When my father finished conferring, he strode over with a beaming smile, his arms wide, ready to embrace his new son and welcome him to our family. “Ellis—”
“Not so fast,” came a low, rumbling voice through the trees.
Every head turned to the sound as a figure emerged. It was enormous, wearing a long black cloak that brushed nearly to the ground, covered in thick shaggy fur. Its boots struck the earth with the cadence of a dirge as it approached, walking straight to where I stood with my family. Covered with a hood, its head was bent low with the weight of its enormous burden.
With a grunt, the figure heaved the biggest stag I’d ever seen off its shoulders and dropped the carcass at my feet with a resounding thud.
Chapter Two
I stared at the dead animal, trying to fit my thoughts together, but shock dissolved them like sugar spun thread.
“The Reaper,” my mother whispered, her hand gripping mine so tight my fingers went numb. Margaret screamed, ducking behind me as my father stepped forward, shielding us both with his arm.
“Wha
The figure then looked up. It wore a matte black mask in the shape of a leering skull, its row of menacing teeth flashing gold. It was the specter of death. A vision to make you believe in the possibility of all your worst fears.
We all knew the stories—nightmares charged with tales of the Reaper and what he did to those he dragged into the forest. The dead girls we’d found over the years. Their hearts ripped from their chests, their vacant eyes staring at the sky, their mouths open with the last screams they’d never utter.
“I’m competing for the hand of the princess,” the Reaper said, his voice like rusty chains dragged over stone. He spat the word ‘princess’ like it was an embittered curse he’d found amongst a heap of garbage. I took a step back from the force of it, where I bumped into Margaret, who squeaked as I trod on her foot.
This monster wanted to marry me?
“You can’t,” my father said, drawing himself up.
The grotesque mask swung to me and then back to my father. The only thing visible was a pair of dark, glittering eyes, sharp as knife points. He tipped his head like a wolf scenting prey, the movement so feral it was as though the forest had born him straight from its roots. “Is it not the right of every citizen in Aetherus to compete in the Hunt, Your Majesty?”
My father’s chin quivered, and his hands balled into fists. “Yes…” He stopped, searching for an answer that failed to materialize. “But you didn’t enter this morning. You must enter.”
“Actually,” one overseer remarked, raising a bony finger. “That is merely a courtesy. It isn’t part of the rules.”
My father’s nostrils flared, a muscle ticking in his jaw. He threw the overseer a murderous glare, and the man swallowed, perhaps realizing he’d just enjoyed his final moments on this plane.
The Reaper took a step closer, and a collective hush whipped around the clearing like autumn leaves kicked up on the wind. My father wasn’t a small man, but the Reaper towered over him. “Record my stag,” the Reaper said.
Huffing out deep, angry breaths, my father faced off with the Reaper, his cheeks red, and his eyes wild. The overseer, who had spoken up, took a tentative step forward, bowing to the king who, after a moment, gave a strained nod.
My father had no choice, I realized. These were the rules of the Hunt. Failure to comply would bring down the wrath of the Fae and their wanton brutality.
The overseer dashed forward, stretching out his measuring tape as his helpers heaved the stag onto the scale. This was pointless, though. Anyone with eyes could see the Reaper’s stag overshadowed the rest. I exchanged a look with Ellis. Held in a trance, he finally snapped and strode forward, his shoulders set with purpose.
He grabbed my arm and pulled me close, staring at the Reaper, whose grotesque mask seemed to grow more animalistic with each passing second. The demon’s eyes flicked back and forth between us, and if I hadn’t known any better, I’d swear they simmered with amusement.
I huddled closer to the man I was supposed to marry, suddenly wanting to be nowhere else but safe and cherished in his arms. This was where I belonged. Ellis pulled me tight, whispering reassurances in my ear.
Finished with their task, the overseers stood and faced the king.
“This…contestant’s stag is the largest by several orders, Your Majesty. Unless there are any other claimants—” he paused, sucking in an audible breath “—the Reaper is the winner of the princess’s hand.”
A cry rose around the clearing as my entire future dissolved into a puff of ashes at my feet.
“No!” Ellis said, wrapping his arms around me. “No, I will not allow this.”
My father studied us both, grim resignation in his expression.
“This monster cannot be the king!” Ellis cried, pointing at the Reaper. “You cannot mean to go through with this.”
“I have no desire to be a king,” the Reaper snarled through the mask, his voice darker than the pits of the underworld from which he came. “I’m taking her with me.”
At that, my knees turned to jelly. It was one thing to be in the castle surrounded by my friends and family, but to be alone with him out in the forest? I’d be dead before the sun rose.
“You will not!” my father said, the words fused with molten rage. “She belongs here.” He looked at his feet and then back up, rolling his shoulders before he grabbed an overseer by the collar of his robe. “Find a loophole in the rules. Something. Rowan is not going anywhere.”
The overseers were already perusing the documents, conferring in hushed voices. But the same overseer who’d spoken earlier shook his head. “I’m sorry, Your Majesty. There is nothing preventing him from taking her. He has won, as per the rules of the Hunt.”
“There must be something,” my father hissed, towering over him. “Find something.”
Ellis held me tighter, as though he could leash the trembling in my limbs.
“I’m sorry, Your Majesty,” the overseer whispered, his voice quivering. “We can keep looking, but by the decree, the princess now belongs to the Reaper.”
My mother covered her mouth while it opened in a soundless scream. “Gerald, you must do something,” she sobbed. “Rowan cannot… she…” My mother trailed off as her eyes found the Reaper, who stood silently waiting for us all to come to terms with what I already understood. He knew his rights; I was his prize. No one could question that.
His gaze found me, those endless black eyes burning with the promise of my ruin, and I shivered. What did he plan to do with me?
My father groaned in frustration and ran a hand down his face. “There’s nothing I can do.” His words held the strain of a razor-fine edge.
He looked at me with a significance that traversed the space between us. All our hopes and dreams were gone. Everything we’d planned and wished for was over, dead and buried in the cold, hard ground. I had no choice. “I’m sorry, Rowan,” he said with so much heartache, it wove into my soul, where I feared it would live forever. “This is never what I wanted for you. I should have taken precautions, but I never thought—”
Ellis pulled me closer, his arms like iron bands. “You can’t mean to go through with this,” he said, his voice cracking. “Your Majesty.”
I shook my head and pulled his arm away. “I have to,” I said softly. “If I don’t, the Fae will come. I can’t let that happen to any of you.”
“Rowan,” Ellis said, cupping my face in his hands. There was something eternal in his gaze. The buried promise of the future we would never have. “I’ll come for you,” he vowed. “I’ll find some way to get you out of this bargain. I swear it.”
I nodded, sure that was a promise he couldn’t keep.
“While this is all very touching,” the Reaper said, his tone mocking and bored, “we should get going before the sun sets any further.”
The bastard didn’t even care that he’d just destroyed my life.
He stepped forward, his heavy boots crunching through the leaves. Holding a rope, he grabbed both my wrists in one of his large, gloved hands and wrapped it around them.
“What are you doing?” I asked in shock. “I’m not an animal to be trussed up and dragged into the forest.”
He secured my wrists with a knot. “That’s where you’re wrong, Princess.”
“Rowan!” my mother screamed before the Reaper tugged me so hard I stumbled.
“It’s okay, Mother. I’ll be okay.” I didn’t believe that for one second, but what else could I say? Tears ran down her cheeks while my father clutched her. Margaret buried her face against my father’s chest, sobbing.
Ellis moved in front of me as the Reaper yanked on my binding again. “I’ll come for you,” he vowed. “Be strong.”
